Opinion: I’m Walkin’ Here

MANHATTAN Hey! Yeah, youse over there! I’m walkin’ here!

You think you’re so classy in your fancy Toyota whip, huh? Oh, did I scare you? Was I exclaiming my rights too loud, you scum? Well, you bet your sorry ass I’m going to make it known that these are my streets. You wanna shoot the fair one, huh? This is my city! You come here from your little small towns, your Californias, and think you can just waltz right in with your Honda Civic and take over my New York? Fuggedaboutit!!

Eyo, boss, listen up! Real New Yorkers walk the streets or take the Subway. That’s it. You look like someone who’s never even heard of bus line 11. What’s that, you ask? I ain’t gonna explain it to ya, valley girl!

You honkin’ to me? Don’t you dare try to interfere with my carefully planned yet effortless daily 11am bodega run. I gots to get my chopped cheese and no Hollywood hot shot bozo’s gonna stop me!

You probably go to Sbarro’s lookin’ for a nice slice—lactose free—don’t you? You probably drive around looking for Magnolia Bakery and that cute lil’ gluten-free cake shop you saw on the Food Network (Bobby Flay, our finest export! Look at that beautiful amber head of hair). You got tickets to see the Lion King on Broadway tonight, huh? Well, joke’s on you, the best show in town is Johnny-One-Leg outside of the Duane Reade across from the other Duane Reade. I would say you know the one, but you and your moolah come from far outta town.

And guess what? I am New York. My tight-knit yet dysfunctional Italian-Irish Catholic family built this city. New York runs in my blood; my 23&Me came out as 50% Italian, 20% Irish, and 30% Subway Rat. I says I got City Blood, but not the kind you find on the sidewalk on 49th and Broadway. If you even try me one more time, I will come at you like an express C train coming into the Port Authority station. You won’t know what hit ya.

Okay, I’ve got an important business phone call I’m now going to take in the middle of the street, traffic be damned, so I’ll forgive you just this one time. The call is either regarding my Mafia business (which is none of yours) or my current battle for my grandmother’s meatball recipe over on Staten Island.

Now piss off!