New York, New York

I fucked up and answered the waitress at the coffee shop with a “yes ma’am” and immediately blew my cover. Nobody says “ma’am” here. What killed me was the almost uncomfortable look that came over her face when I said it – a look that said, “You must be from out of town.”

Observation: When Wyclef said he liked his chicken wings fried hard, I honestly thought it was a joke. 

But nah, I ordered some chicken wings yesterday and they were fried hard as shit. Is that a New York thing?

They were good though.

There is no order in Manhattan. You’d think folks would walk on the right side of the sidewalk, the way we drive but no, it’s just an anxiety inducing free-for-all. 

Yet everyone manages to get where they’re going unscathed, for the most part. After a while, I could see the chaotic harmony in which people move here. 

Culture shock. 

I’ve always thought it’d be cool to live in New York but my first visit tells me that it’s going to be more of an adjustment than I thought. 

But with time, I think I could do it. 

The things that I find strange still have a certain charm that I can’t put my finger on. Even the smells. 

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