I woke up earlier than any human ever should this morning (5 am). I had to get ready, take care of the kitties, say goodbye to my housemate's munchkins, then drive 30 minutes, park, and get to the gate for an 8:05 am train. I arrived at Penn Station at 10:35, and departed on a train bound for Richmond at 11:35. So far, so good.
As I was standing in Penn Station, hovering around the departure board waiting for my gate to be announced, I realized something, that I think I can finally admit:
I really don't like New York City.
It's not that it's scary, because it really isn't. True, I find it a little intimidating because I don't know my way around, but it's actually pretty easy to navigate if you just pay attention. I'm not worried about crime or terrorism or anything because, well, worrying would do no good. Also I've never seen so many security people in one place at one time.
It isn't that I find the people rude. I know New Yorkers have that reputation, but honestly, I've never really encountered that issue. Not to mention - it was Penn Station. Not everyone in there is from New York. This morning, I saw an older woman drop a bunch of paperwork, and no fewer than three people rushed to help her.
I even enjoy the part of New York that involves walking around, seeing sights, shopping, and wandering in and out of museums. Oh, and people watching. Don't forget the people watching.
What I don't like is the pressure. All the bustle and confusion and hurry up and get where you need to be, even if all you're going to do is wait. I don't like the pressure of always hurrying, never stopping, and feeling like I'm in the way.
I'm not high-strung, and I'm never urgent. Almost nothing is an emergency to me. I feel very out of place in an environment like Manhattan - where everything is a "my hair's on fire" kind of moment.
I guess the truth is, I'm more an upstate kind of gal...my pace is a little more relaxed, and my hair is never on fire.