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| Stopped in traffic on the 207th Street Bridge |
We used to poke fun at locals in Pennsylvania, both in
Juniata County (where we taught high school for two years) and in Franklin
County (where we lived for eight years). Though born-and-raised Pennsylvanians
ourselves, we each hail from different parts of the state. And we saw everywhere a kind of indigenous logic that the "natives" simply
seemed to know, but which non-natives such as ourselves struggled to
comprehend. Have you ever gotten directions from someone who included landmarks
that no longer exist? (Our favorite in Franklin County was “Turn where the
Sheetz used to be.”) Bizarre intersections mock common sense (“Stop except left
turn”), but somehow traffic flows through them without incident (most of the
time, of course). If you’ve ever been frustrated by local “traditions,”
bristled when someone pines for “how it used to be,” or – worst of all – states
the dreaded words “That’s just how we’ve always done it,” then you know what I
mean.
New York City is completely different. Completely.
And by that I mean, of course, that their bizarre traditions
and cultural oddities are different than the bizarre traditions and cultural
oddities we had to learn in other places.
It doesn’t surprise us, really, that we’re still dealing
with this stuff up here. We knew that we would become OAFs (Outsiders/Aliens/Foreigners)
when we moved, and that learning how to do NYC life would take some time. And I
should say that it has not been all weirdness and stress since we’ve been here
– not at all. But the weird things do stand out, of course.
We haven’t been here long, and I’m sure we’ll have more
examples as time goes by, but for us so far, the most glaring example of this cultural
weirdness has to be parking. It’s crazy and terrible and stressful. Most
places, outside of big cities, take parking for granted. Wherever one goes,
whether to Walmart, the post office, the grocery store, or a friend’s house,
there will be parking; when I go home, I will park in my garage/driveway/etc.
Not so in the city.
Parking is a crapshoot. Unless you pay exorbitant fees for
reserved spaces, there is no guarantee that you will be able to find a
convenient parking spot anywhere, including where you live. As a general rule,
if you can take public transportation somewhere, then you should take public
transportation. We’ve been to a particular church four times now, and haven’t
driven there once, even though it would definitely be faster than taking the
bus. But there’s hardly anywhere to park,
so we bus it.
Complicating everything is the misery that is alternate-side parking. This
video from the New York Times explains it much better than I would be able to: Swept Away: The Parking Dance in New York City (I am all for the councilman's proposal, incidentally).
I am constantly thinking about our van and where it’s
parked. How long can I leave it there? Did I fold back my side view mirror?
After I come back from dropping Ginny off at school, will there be a spot on the right side of the
street? If not, what am I going to do for the hour and a half when I can’t park
there? What about if someone comes to visit us? Where will they park?
It’s weird that I am constantly thinking about parking. But
ironically, stressing out about parking, I’ve found, makes me fit right in with
car owners in New York City. Everybody deals with this! It’s
reassuring to find out that you’re not the only one who has a problem, that
someone else (or in fact, everybody else) has the same issues you do.
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| Our first busted mirror |
So yes, it’s weird, and the system has lots of flaws. But we’re
learning some strategies, some little tricks (we found two nearby grocery
stores that do have small parking lots, so I’ll go when they sweep the street).
And I’ll never again take a parking space for granted. Even
if all the locals are weird.
