The Upper East Side is the closest thing to a ring of hell.
I've been traveling around more so than usual lately.
Two weeks ago I started doing a lot more stand up and I was all over Manhattan, in places I hadn't been to in a while, some even never before. I went to the East Village, the Lower East Side, The Upper West Side, Jersey City, and Atlanta*.
But last night, I went to the Upper East Side. I have to say, hanging out past 90th street is a magical place. Because I really don't believe that naturally humans could become so vapid and lose all sense of humor. Out of the thirty people or so I met last night, let me say this - the Kareoke night at Brother Jimmy's BBQ is a great touristy fun spot, there are some very cool people who hang out there. There are also a lot of rules, no bums outside, girls having fun with their girl friends but hating other girls having fun that aren't their friends.
The most frightening group I met though was at this "Irish Pub**".
There was a guy there who doesn't laugh.
And not in the - oh I don't laugh out loud, but yes, that is amusing.
And I'm also not claiming that I have some master power to make everyone laugh.
But this dude, this dude was beyond serious to almost comatose personality. When I spoke of how I don't normally hang around these parts, he asked me how the girls looked down there and if he would be considered "a gay" if he came down with his friends, who are all male and all good looking. Girls that are just friends with a guy are just "sad".
Hey, did I mention all my friends are guys?
Wow. You do have a personality - it's asshole.
This is when I decided to stop drinking, because no amount of alcohol consumption in the world would make the pain of such stupidity go away.
On my way out I saw my friend who lives in the neighborhood, I said good night and went to hail a cab - this is when she decided to teach me how to hail a cab***.
Folks, let me say right here that there are very few things that really fry my fanny.
I just found out last night though that a big fanny fryer is someone trying to teach me something I've done a million times. It's like someone walking into the bathroom while you're brushing your teeth and being like "Oh, you gotta go up and down with the brush, up and down, yeah, ya know what- let me help you with that...."
In summation, I must admit that maybe all the people in the Upper East Side aren't bad, but I think a lot of them need to realize that they aren't great - in the sense that they are just like the people who live all over this overly populated island, and they're not any better just because Daddy got them that super fabulous job and apartment.
*Which by the way the term Hotlanta, isn't because it's so much fun and thrilling no, no - Atlanta is oppressively hot and sunny and seems to be not yet ready to be a city because there's so much construction. I'd recommending waiting about ten years before going to Atlanta and see how they build it up.
**I don't even think the owners had a potato in their life let alone any Irish ancestry.
***I think the best part was telling me I could go to another avenue and asking if I could do it myself - really? really? you can walk up a block and get to another avenue? Can you explain the number system to? It's totally mystifying to me.