After fifteen long and ridiculous years, I am finally getting the fuck out of New York.
I’ve had enough. I’ve been telling everyone I’m leaving for years, but I’m really splitting now, and I can’t wait. I don’t want to sound ungrateful though; this city has served me well. But I have to get out before I become that miserable old bastard who lives two flights below me with the parrot and eczema. Sure I’ll miss NYC, but it’s easier if I focus on the negatives–so here’s a bunch of things about the Big Apple I am definitely not going to miss at all.
There’s this dude who cruises around the East Village with a cat on his head. That’s fine. Put a cat on your head. But don’t get all snooty when people talk to you about the fucking cat you’ve got on your head. It’s like, Look at me! Look at me! LEAVE ME ALONE! I won’t miss seeing that guy. Same goes for unicycle man and that homeless dude whose pants are always ‘accidentally’ falling down to expose his huge, weather-beaten penis.
Getting Pissed At Everyone
I went to Barcelona a few weeks back and became a different person. I was relaxed and nothing bothered me. I walked slower and I smiled more. I was in my natural state. In New York, I can’t leave my pad without becoming an exasperated asshole. Every day at least one cab driver, pedestrian, or guy with a cat on his head sends me into a rage. New York City is the only place I have ever looked squarely into a stranger’s eyes and said, with more sincerity than I’ve ever said anything, ‘Fuck you.’ That’s not good.
Everyone marvels at the size of my apartment because it’s big by New York standards. By everywhere else’s standards, however, it’s an example of human rights abuse. I pay 2K per month to live in a slightly nicer version of Alcatraz. If you want to swing a cat in this town you need a lot of money. If you want a backyard you need to leave.
New York is lousy with Australians, and they all think they’re better than the Australians back home because they moved to New York. Big deal, Shane, you scraped together enough money for a plane ticket. That’s not an achievement, that’s just relocating. Also, Aussies in New York do this weird one-upmanship thing where they ask you how long you’ve been here so they can tell you they’ve been here longer. I won’t miss those fuckers.
Not Great Food
The food in New York isn’t so great. In fact, there’s more nutritional value in a bag of Wizz Fizz than there is in a three-course meal here. That’s an exaggeration, of course; there are some great restaurants in New York, but when I visit Australia it’s like my mouth recovers from depression. Food is just better in Australia.
Fuck you, New York University. You’ve flooded downtown with the worst people on the planet: frat boys and the scatter-brained trollops they date rape. The recent influx of vapid, pop-collared, lacrosse stick-toting, future bankers of America is driving everyone away. They suck. And they’re turning The City that Never Sleeps into the city that orders another round of Bellinis at Sunday brunch, like, oh-my-God, literally.
Green waves with trash. That’s what you get if you go swimming at Coney Island. That and gastro. Your best bet is Montauk, but who wants to drive for three hours to go for a dip? Swimming in New York takes planning and work. The community pools are Band-Aid soup, so forget about that. In Sydney I can ride my bike from the office to a beautiful, world-renowned beach in minutes. So long, suckers.
Rats and Filth
No two ways about it, this place is a filthy, dirty shit-hole. I’ve seen garbage bags that squeal and undulate because they are full of feasting rats. I’ve seen a man take off all his clothes and defecate in a star-jump pose on the street. I’ve seen a Chinese woman fish a human hand out of a drain with a stick. I’ve seen Jeremy Piven. My God. The things I have seen in this filthy city.
If I never see another exhaust-blackened pile of slushy snow ever again it’ll be too soon. Goodbye forever, NYC winter. And also, fuck you, the subway. Crombie out!