Here in New York, they kiss on one cheek. Two would be both pretentious and European. When the opposite traffic light turns yellow, your foot had best be moving steadily from brake to gas, lest you be taunted with unnecessary horn honking from behind. Instead of “bless his heart” and “I’m not being ugly, but,” conversations are littered with “FUCKIN’ A!” and “Fah-getaboutit!” They’ll pay $75 for a burger, yet insist on turkey sandwiches from the filthiest, grimiest deli on the block. You’re a snob if you buy coffee from Starbucks instead of aforementioned deli, (but Dunkin’ Donuts is acceptable) yet completely tacky for purchasing a knock off handbag. Kids don’t have play groups – they’ve just got their cousins. And Football? Fah-getabout it. It’s all about baseball here.
It’s a city as cold as its Februaries and abrasive as its sidewalks. Which is why every time I hear the city’s nightly mantra, I can’t help but grin and grant a couple grace points.
Get home safe.
Not “y’all come back now, y’hear?” or “love you” or “so long” or “cheers” or “good night.” And it doesn’t matter your relationship to the person bidding you adieu. It’s your coworker, your best friend, your cousin, your teacher, the guy at the deli, or the stranger on the train. And it’s simultaneously necessary and comforting.
Get home safe.
Whoever you are, whenever you leave, whatever you do – you WILL hear this phrase. You will repeat back. And then you’ll kiss on one cheek and hail a cab, head for the subway, or check for a bus.
Get home safe.
Thank you, New York. That was always the plan.
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