A Brush with the “NY Attitude”

Today, I had a brunch appoinment with my friend way down town in Tribecca. The restaurant was called [Paradou] and the address was: 8 Little West 12th st.

I took a taxi as I was not familiar with that area and didn’t want to be late. I gave the address and a map to the taxi driver but he had difficulty finding the place. He stopped in front of a restaurant, opened the window and shouted whether the restaurant was called [Paradou]. The waitress shouted back which to me was incomprehensible but the taxi driver said that was the restaurant I was looking for.

Then I saw a little sign with the restaurant’s name on it and the name was not Paradou but had a different name. So I asked the driver to take me to the right restaurant. He tried but couln’t find where Little West was and as he didn’t seem capable of taking me to my destination I decided to get off the taxi and find the restaurant on my own.

Since the driver left me on 12th street near west end I thought it must be close to the restaurant’s address LittleWest but didn’t know which direction to go.

So I asked two elderly ladies who were walking down the street by given them the address and they seemed to know where Little West was. They seemed to know where it was but had a difficulty in explaining me the direction. So I wanted to make sure I was on the right track and said a few words to confirm . Then suddenly one of the ladies said in a very strong tone: “Listen to me!”

Her tone of the voice was as though she was scolding a child and not to somebody you had just met.

Yes, I did appreciate the fact she was taking time to help me find the restaurant but I was little starled by her attitude. Why did she react in such an authoritarian way? Pehaps it was something I said which got on her nerves.

So I listened to what she had to say and thanked them very much for helping me. Well, in the end I did find the restaurant but I was late for the appointment.

Then I had another adventure coming back as I decided to take the subway back home. It was not difficult to find the subway station but it did not have the subway line which would take me back to my place. So I asked a policeman and he told me to take down town train and change to my line which was No. 1 line at the next stop to my train number.

I thanked him and followed his direction but there was no No. 1 line at the subway station he indicated. So I asked two Afro American who were very kind and even went out of the ticket counter twice to ask for the direction. However, nobody was able to provide me with the right information and therefore I gave up and decided to take a taxi back to my apartment.

On a lighter note, a friend sent me this interesting collection of pictures, Only in New York.