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Transgender Snow Day
Taking a Break from Gender Dysphoria
I love New York City during a snow storm. It slows the tempo of the city down and give the world a softness that is just beautiful to see. It feels different.
You feel it more outside of Manhattan.
Real New Yorkers live in the surrounding outer four boroughs of NYC or north of 125th Street in Manhattan. South of 125th Street is filled with global transplants and in some cases, the New York City “wannabes”. You know who they are. When tourists to NYC complain about how rude New Yorkers are, I always laugh because their visits usually center on Manhattan and the rude “natives” they have met were the Type A’s that migrated from their own home towns.
A friend of mine who is a bartender in a very high-end midtown Manhattan steak house (home to the “Masters of the Universe” egos and self-image promoters) told me his trick for weeding out the posturing wannabes. When one of them claims to be a New Yorker, he simply asks: “What high school did you go to?” That instantaneously weeds them out and checks their ever-expanding egos.
I am not suggesting that all the people who move to New York City are posturing, pompous wind bags. On the contrary, most are just people who love being a part of New York and that is OK but they just see the “Manhattan” view New York.
