By nature, New Yorkers are convinced that nothing but a wasteland exists between NYC and Hollywood. If I had become that powerful Manhattan woman I had once fantasized about then my idea of “roughing it” would be a nice weekend at Canyon Ranch. Unfortunately, that is not the case; I once spent a night with no place to stay and went to three friends houses before I found a bed that was available for use, but that’s another story for another day.
Last week I went to the doctor due to some recurring stomach pains. While my car salesman-like doctor was poking my abdomen, he began making obligatory small talk. Upon revelation of my mid-western roots, he questioned how I feel about living in the Big Apple. After replying that I love this place, he said, “Well, you’d have to love this place compared to Utah. I’ll bet there’s nothing to do there.” Well, there may not be Broadway and the Met out West, but what about the Mountains and the Lakes? What about the great outdoors? There’s a lot to do in a place where you can see a canopy of stars, build a tree house and at one point in time, even sleep with your door unlocked.
After this conversation I voiced my concerns to the nurse that I would pass out during my blood work. She objected and declared that she could hold my interest and then asked me to elaborate on who I thought was better looking, Vin Diesel or Paul Walker…Bless her heart.
I left that office hoping I never become so Gotham centric that I consider New Jersey the epitome of western living. While I am fully capable of admitting how naïve I am, New York can be a little naïve as well.