Couldn’t say about NYC as I’ve never been there, but where Paris is concerned, I have become convinced there’s a positive feedback effect going on. Regular guy takes the subway or walks the business district, sees everyone but him is frowning, impatient and in a hurry, figures he’s the weird one, tries to act surly, impatient and hurried to blend in, influences another FNG.
That’s the only sensible reason I could come up with to explain how a person can be sweet, patient and friendly at a café terrasse, yet 5 minutes later instantly turn into some sort of very understated berserker the second they’re past the ticketmunching thingy.
What Kobal said fits in with what I said, about the need to buy into the common myth, with an added dimension: In NY it’s not a fear of being “the weird one” - NYers are far less outwardly conformists than Parisians - but a fear of not being psychically armed, not being a survivor, not deserving to get by. Courting the evil eye, perhaps; being the nail that sticks out and gets hammered.
If you don’t wanna be fast-paced wotinhell are you doin here? Excuse me, but no one your age who doesn’t need a cane or a walker needs to move that damn slow. You move like you keep forgetting exactly which foot should come after which. There a reason for that? I’m not saying you gotta put on your Nike’s and run, but you’re on a sidewalk. Not a side-meander or a side-stroll. So WALK already!
Would it be asking you business walkers too much to put a little bounce and flow into your gait? Most of you jerk along like robot cockroaches - knees locked, mouths set tight, constantly almost-slamming into one another as if you’re under remote control.
Put a little Jerome Robbins into it, why don’t cha. Longer looser strides. An elegant sidestep every so often. If you must have tension, at least let it be artistic tension.
When I worked downtown here at a tourist bar, my most common observation about not just New Yorkers, but about people from the East Coast region in general, is the general brusqueness of their manner.
I grew up in South Texas; you generally smile at people, say, “How are you,” or “Hello,” or something to that effect and then say, “I’d like a Drink X, please.”
East Coasters just walk up, unsmilingly, may or may not even make eye contact, and say, “Drink X.” Or “I’ll have/I want/I’ll take Drink X.”
At first I thought it was rude. But then if I engaged them in conversation I realized that they weren’t being rude; their idea of “normal” and mine are just different. They don’t “waste time” with excessive politeness/friendliness, while Texans sort of pride themselves on it.
My SO is from Connecticut, and sometimes I still feel the urge to “cover” for him when we’re at a restaurant or bar or whatever, because while I know he isn’t trying to be rude, his manner can strike people that way…and the excessive friendliness can sometimes get on his nerves. (Which is when I laugh at him and point out the fact that he’s sworn he’ll never live in Connecticut again because “it’s too f–king cold” so he might as well get over it.)
He says that at some point he’ll take me “back home” with him and we’ll visit the Big Apple…and I will be intrigued to see if my observations hold true.
Saying please or looking up doesn’t waste a fraction of a second or a sliver of breath. It’s got to be some attitude that what others consider “politeness” is either a sign of weakness or a hypocritical fake-niceness. Not doing so must be a ritual of faith, a bow to the common myth.
I agree with a lot of the posters here who have said that New Yorkers aren’t necessarily rude, just direct. My husband grew up on Long Island, and the bluntness kind of took me by surprise the first few times he took me home to visit his family and friends. I got used to it though, and I’ve grown to like the direct attitudes and the accents! I love the way my 8-year-old SIL says “coffee” and “orange.” My husband used to have a New Yawker accent too, but six years of living in West Virginia has changed that. His dad says he sounds like “a fuckin’ redneck” and I have to say I agree. He has more of a West Virginia accent than I do, and I grew up here!
He still drives like a New Yorker though, and does not have much patience for slowpokes and drivers who hold up traffic on the main road near our house to let other cars out. I have to tell him all the time to chill out–laying on the horn and shouting obscenities is not going to make the other guy go any faster! Old habits die hard, I guess.
