Why We Hate Tourists

Of course New Yorkers don’t hate tourists. But we are often very frustrated by them, and we do judge them.

I live just steps away from Ground Zero (or are we calling it the Freedom Tower, or the 911 Memorial or something else now?) It’s got to be one of the more popular sites to see among tourists both domestic and international. Hoards of them descend the steps of their tour busses led like cattle to the slaughter down Church Street or they climb wearily out of the Chambers Street Station dazed and confused by their surroundings. They consult their paper maps or check the GPS on their phones and often ignore the neighborhood people passing by – people who know where they are going and would happily give them directions. I know because I’m one of them and I have given directions to hundreds of tourists – even in French (to the utter shock of one family visiting from Paris!) But these days, the tourists would rather ignore New Yorkers as if we’re just part of the crazy scenery and rely on their unreliable technology.

So that’s reason #1. No one likes to be objectified or – even worse – feel invisible. And I believe that many tourists think of us natives as just part of their tourist experience. We’re not actually humans with families and jobs and homes like them. As they take photos on the subway it doesn’t seem to matter that I’m part of the background as much as the ad for Manhattan Mini Storage. I usually change seats so that I don’t wind up in some naugahyde album next to a photo of the naked cowboy of Times Square.

Reason #2 lies squarely on our shoulders. And that’s the fact that tourists don’t look like us and it’s just plain old human nature to dislike and fear the different. It’s called xenophobia. Come on, you can spot them as easily as I. They’re wearing crewneck sweatshirts with some local team or school emblazoned on it over sturdy walking shorts and sneakers. It’s really the sneakers that make them stand out. New Yorkers can walk the mean streets all the live long day in just about everything from flip flops to stillettos. Even when my plantar fasciitis was at its worse I would never had considered wearing athletic sneakers with anything other than gym togs on my way to the gym. Foot wear distinguishes the foreign tourists as well. Notice the happy somewhat fatigued family of blondes across from you on the F train. Now look at their feet. You’ll see a species of leather flat walking shoes that you know has never existed in DSW. They look well-made, utilitarian but just slightly funky. I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that family is from Germany or somewhere close to that.

But even with sensible walking shoes, tourists just can’t seem to keep up with the pace of native New Yorkers. And that brings me to reason #3: You’re in my fucking way! If I could write a guidebook for people planning a visit to New York City the first chapter would be called, “Don’t Gather on the top of the Subway Stairs!” Subsequent chapters may be called, “don’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk,” “don’t take forever to order your drinks in Starbucks,” and “please cross the street when the traffic has stopped.” There are many famous expressions known world-wide about the pace of New Yorkers: the city that doesn’t sleep, in a New York minute, etc. So I am pleading with you tourists, please train before you come here. Walk around the mall speedily a few times without stopping at Aunt Annies, and see if that helps. 

Of course, it could be that we’re all just jealous that these people actually have the time to stop and smell the….the urine, I guess (it is summer after all.) It would be nice to be able to spend time with your family and friends, eating pizza, seeing historical sites, shopping at Century 21, riding on the Circle Line with the breeze off the Hudson on your skin. So I guess reason #4 is envy. It’s really hard to admit, but wouldn’t we rather be on vacation and wouldn’t it be nice not to rush around and worry about how we appear to our fellow New Yorkers?

But as I thought about this issue a bit more I began to have darker thoughts that I am going to share with you with some reservations. In the last few weeks there have been a few polarizing issues in the national news: the Paula Deen “N” word controversy, the abortion issue raging in the Texas State Senate and the Supreme Court decision regarding marriage equality. Again, the country seems divided among the red and blue states, between liberals and conservatives. As a liberal it always seemed to me that the conservatives make these issues about our morality rather than keeping it about civil liberties. And that is my thinking behind reason #5. I think that secretly – or not so secretly – that many of our visitors from other parts of the country probably judge or even hate liberals, Jews, ethnic minorities and gays, or in other words, all of us. When sharing this dark thought to some friends they even agreed that could be a reason for their visit: to gawk at the animals in the zoo as it were, to observe up close the objects of their derision.

Here’s the thing, I don’t want to believe this. Deep down in my fiercely liberal heart I want to believe in the good of all people. I want to hang on to the idea that if we’ve become unfortunately warped by our environment, that the kernel of light and truth can still reside in the hearts of everyone. But sometimes when I hear a southern or Midwestern accent in a loud oblivious volume those dark thoughts begin to rise to the surface.

But I won’t let these dark thoughts or even the lighter ones listed above change my behavior. I’m still going to let them pet my dog because yes, he is a beautiful boy! And I’m going to give directions when asked and even sometimes when not asked. I’m going to be grateful that they’re bringing much-needed revenue to my hometown. I’m going to take a deep breath when they’re in my way.

Bring on the summer tourists. We're ready.

 

 

 

Sleep Snobbery

Growing up I knew something was different about me, something that would eventually make me a second class citizen looked down upon by normal society. It wasn’t that I was a woman (well, it was in a way but we’ll deal with that in a different blog entry.) It wasn’t because I was from a “broken home” (OK, fodder for another blog…) It was because I wasn’t a morning person.

Seriously, the discrimination came as early as grade school. I remember discussing our favorite TV shows with my first grade classmates around the lunch table. They were aghast when they learned I had never seen Land of the Lost, HR Puffinstuff or any show that aired before noon, in fact. Conversely, they didn’t appreciate my devotion to Johnny Carson.

But childhood derision was nothing compared to the onslaught of prejudice I would face as an adult. Those haughty looks from “larks” who rose at 6 am to run in the park, then read the paper, and do their shopping all “before you even got up – hee hee.” Then came the chiding from bosses when I tried to request that our monthly all-staff meetings move from 8 am to 3 pm.

I come from a family of Night Owls. None of us would ever wake up at 8 am on a weekend unless we had to catch a flight or go to a funeral. Does that us bad people?

No, in fact there are millions just like us hiding under blankets of shame. Each and every one of us has an internal clock or “chronotype,” which makes us either early-to-bed-early-to-rise larks or nightlife-loving owls. Research shows that our chronotype seems to be largely inherited just like eye color or blood type. But the difference is that people don’t think you’re lazy just because you have hazel eyes, and they don’t exclude you from early brunch plans when your O negative.

But, sadly the world is geared toward the larks. The American work day starts at 9 am or earlier, a time when most of us owls would rather be easing out of a good dream and readjusting our pillows. And it’s getting worse. Nowadays, corporate types schedule breakfast meetings at 7 am so as not to waste a precious minute of real work time. Uggh.

The truth of the matter is that I – and most other owls – work as hard as those annoying larks. I just do my work at a different time of day. I exercise in the afternoon or evening and sweat as much – or more -- as they do at 6 am. I read in bed before going to sleep and am somehow able to absorb the same information as they do at the breakfast table at 7 am. But yet the derision continues.

Unfortunately, it’s not just the judgment that hurts. Having to live in a lark-oriented world deprives most owls of a full night of sleep. And that has devastating long-term consequences on our health, our mood and even our weight!

I am currently enrolled in a course just about sleep at NYU led by Nancy Rothstein -- a women referred to as "The Sleep Ambassador."  I’ve been fascinated by what I’m learning. Just a night or two of under 7 hours of sleep can affect the areas of the brain that control impulses, imagination and our abilities to incorporate new information. This puts us in a serious disadvantage at work – or really any important life situation. It makes us crabby spouses, impatient parents and in some cases can lead to very dangerous sleep disorders. Sleep also helps balance gherlin and leptin, two hormones that regulate hunger and appetite satiety. Meaning that lack of sleep can lead to serious carb cravings the next day. And, over time ,can cause major weight gain and diabetes.

Sleepy driving is perhaps more prevalent that drunk driving has also been cited as the cause of hundreds of fatal car accidents. And, in some bizarre cases, sleep deprivation has led to a form of sleep walking in which violent acts were perpetrated by “innocent” people while fully asleep. Disturbing and sad, really.

Thankfully, parts of corporate America are waking up (pun intended) to the importance of sleep and how it relates to productivity. Many companies are hiring sleep experts -- like the Sleep Ambassador to coach their staff in proper “sleep hygiene.” This includes helping to balance your circadian rhythms by getting adequate exposure to light during the day and shutting down electronic light during the late evening – something that I have been trying with limited success. They also advise maintaining a calm, clean, cool and comfortable sleep environment free of any electronic devices. While I’ve never had a TV in our bedroom, I do have pretty serious clutter and dog hair tumbleweed issues that I blame on the other two beloved residents of my home!

About a dozen or so major companies are also enacting a fantasy of mine which they've named “Results Only Work Environments (ROWE)” In a ROWE employees don’t have set schedules. How, when and where they get their work done is totally up to them – as long as they get it done. Across the board worker productivity, engagement and satisfaction rise in these idyllic offices.

And perhaps you’ve heard of the sleep pods and napping rooms at Google and other 21^st Century workplaces. Sleep is finally coming out of the closet at work – that is as long as it helps the bottom line.

Sleep is a complicated issue taking into effect our genes, our environment and a host of common physical disorders such as sleep apnea, restless leg syndrome and insomnia.  It is often not a matter of choice and is certainly not a measure of laziness and anti-social behavior.

So I call upon you owls out there to rise up with me and demand the respect we deserve. Plan those 2pm brunches, schedule a meeting at 6pm, call your buddy at during Jon Stewart – its all our birthright.

I have a dream that we will all live in a land of harmony and understand between larks and owls. I have a dream where we can have a dream at 10 am and brag about it.

 

For those of you who'd like to read more about this topic I highly recommend this book. It's fascinating while being a fun summer read: http://www.amazon.com/Dreamland-Adventures-Strange-Science-Sleep/dp/039308020X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1371833057&sr=8-1&keywords=dreamland#_ or contact Nancy Rothstein at nancy@thesleepambassador.com

 

To Move or Not to Move

Where I grew up we referred to Manhattan as “the city” even though we were, in fact, living within the geographic boundaries of New York City. But this inaccurate description was really more about the sophistication, the vastness, the glamour and the gravity that Manhattan represented. When we heard Frank Sinatra sing, “if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere,” I’m pretty sure he wasn’t crooning about Mill Basin, Brooklyn or Astoria, Queens.

As a child, I understood that Manhattan would be my eventual home: sixteen miles from my birthplace in the above-mentioned Mill Basin, but a world away.  But, I didn’t feel the kind of yearning you associate with wide-eyed transplants from Iowa hoping to make it big on Broadway, it was more like pleasant resignation. I mean….where else would I go? Long Island? New Jersey? Westchester?

There’s nothing wrong with those communities, they just didn’t call to me. I always felt like I was different from my friends and their families with both mothers and fathers and more traditional upbringings. I just knew I belonged on that mysterious island of misfits and superstars hoping that I’d find a place to fit in. I’d find a cozy garret somewhere, wear fabulous clothes, and have interesting friends and exciting experiences that would provide wonderful fodder to write about.

And, guess what…it all came true. So why do I sometimes suffer from mild cases of suburban envy?

As I mentioned in my very first installment of this blog, it’s not easy being the last of a dying breed. There’s a reason that my childhood friends live in Long Island and my college buddies who all settled with me on the upper east side right after graduation have returned to their hometowns or the burbs, and other one-time New Yorkers have moved on to different cities like San Francisco, Atlanta or Seattle. New York is not for wussies. It makes common aspects of the “American Dream” like home ownership, child rearing and driving nearly impossible – especially for the middle class.

I began to give this whole conundrum serious thought after I was interviewed for an article for the New York Times earlier this year (click here to read the article) after the reporter had discovered this blog. She asked me what I had to give up to stay here and what my friends living elsewhere wouldn’t understand. My answer was long and had multiple parts.

So my question is now: is it worth it to stay in Manhattan? Given the enormous financial, emotional and logistical upheaval a move would cause, I decided to develop a list of pros and cons. For your consideration:

Pro: The Subway. Oh how I love the subway! My fixation on efficiency of cost, energy and time is utterly soothed by a subway ride despite the crowd and periodic delays. I am still thrilled at the notion of travelling from Coney Island to the upper reaches of the Bronx for just $2.50 –even though I have never and probably will never take that ride.

Con: No Car. I often feel like some kind of alien when I admit that I’ve never owned a car. It seems like an automobile is more like an appendage for most American adults and a second home to some. When it’s time to visit friends or family in the burbs it would be so much easier to just climb in our car and go directly there instead of walking to the City Hall, waiting for the #5, negotiating our way through Grand Central for an 75 minute ride on Metro North – all with overnight bags, gifts, and dog in tow. But given the fact that most garages charge upwards of $600 a month (plus insurance, gas and maintenance) this is not an option for me or other middle classers.

Pro: The best food in the world. At any given time of the day I can walk to or order from the finest restaurants in the world, sample any type of global cuisine, shop at a multitude of ethnic markets and pick farm fresh fruits and veggies at my choice of local greenmarkets.

Con: No space. I’ve become both an expert in organization and a big-time purger as a Manhattanite. Even with an enviable storage cage in the basement of our building, I don’t have room for all the belongings and treasures my husband and I have accumulating during our lifetime. Warning to my hubby: the pelican statue is living on borrowed time.

Pro: Culture. This tiny island is home to the center of theater, music, dance and visual artsand much of it is free or low cost. So why haven’t I been to a museum in a year?

Con: No room for visitors. It’s really difficult for me to entice my middle aged buddies to come visit when they know they’ll be spending their nights on an old pull-out couch.

Pro: No room for visitors (just kidding!)

Con: Expense. People are aghast when they learn how much we spend on groceries, movies, haircuts, and home repairs, let alone the homes we live in. Want to drive yourself nuts…see what kind of house you can get outside the city for the cost of a one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan!

Pro: Health. Manhattanites are amongst the most fit Americans – mostly because of all the walking we do. We also have access to healthy food, world class gyms, public tennis and basketball courts and lots of inspiration in the form of really beautiful people everywhere you turn.

Con: Little access to nature. Because I love animals I get frustrated staring at the same six species in Manhattan: pidgeons, sparrows, crows, seagulls, squirrels and rats. Not exactly an exotic array of fauna. And flora? Well we have beautiful parks and you can enjoy them if you don’t mind being shoulder to shoulder with stroller wielding moms, skateboarders, hordes of tourists and the occasion ne’er do well. Wanna go to the beach, better book an hour or two or more to get there and compete for a square foot of sandy real estate. Unless you “summer” in the Hamptons – which we don’t. We don’t make a verb of any season, in fact.

Pro: Shopping. For a lover of all things apparel like me, walking into Bergdorf’s or Barneys is like a Viking approaching Valhalla. Sure, I shop at Banana, Loft and lots of other stores that populate malls in Bumbletown USA, but just walking by all the cute boutiques, designer flagships and vintage thrift shops  provides inspiration at the very least.

Con: Noise. Why does it seem that an ambulance of fire truck must pass under my window whenever I’m on the phone with an out-of-towner? They always exclaim, “how can you live with all that noise?” It’s not easy. I would love to sleep with the window open but the drunken revelers coming from the “high class” bars in my hood make that impossible. Taxi horns, airplanes, passersby, dogs barking, garbage trucks at 2 am, car alarms…I can’t even hear myself think sometimes. When we stay outside the city I am impressed immediately by the peace and quiet – and the depth of my sleep!

So there it is. The pros and cons, a logical presentation. But living in New York is not about logic. It truly is a calling. Overtaking all the cons is the innate understanding that this is where I belong. Just as I had that pleasant resignation at 12 years old, I still own it today. Sure I want space, peace, convenience and all that living outside Manhattan would provide, but I still envision myself as one of those old New York ladies with a jaunty scarf, taking a stroll on a wintery day by the Hudson, bickering with her cardigan-wearing husband in Fairway, and attending a fascinating lecture (for free) at night.  

So for now – and maybe forever – I’m staying

The Challenge of the Second Act

Sometimes I worry that I acted like a spoiled brat. I didn’t like the game so I picked up my ball and glove and stomped home. But in reality what I did was enter one of the most challenging times of my life. What sometimes feels like a cowardly retreat was actually bravely stepping into the unknown.

August 24^th 2012 was the last day I spent in a career that spanned more than 25 years.  I left, not for better pay or even a more satisfying job, but for the opportunity to explore what I want to do when I grow up – at 48 years old!

I’m not alone. As many as 8.4 million Americans between the ages of 44 and 70 are launching their second careers, seeking positions that combine income with personal meaning and social impact, according to a recent survey on boomers, work, and aging by the MetLife Foundation and Civic Ventures, a San Francisco think tank.

Sure, it’s an exciting endeavor and I feel blessed for the opportunity to take the time, to toss out the alarm clock and spend leisurely hours with my doggie and husband (in that order?) but it is also pretty darn scary.

Me, mid career at a national conference

I gave up a healthy, steady income, structure, routine and a capable IT staff. I turned my back on a career where I had risen to the upper echelons, earned a solid reputation among my peers and – honestly – was very talented. And it wasn’t like it was some soul-sucking venture either. I raised money for worthy non-profits in New York City – places that fed the hungry, tended to people with AIDS and cancer, protected children from abuse and more. But the fact of the matter was I was not happy and I probably hadn’t been for about ten years.

I had to wonder: what happened and how did I get here?

Like many people I kind of fell into my career. My sophomore year at Colgate University I was assigned to the development department as my work study job. My task for the next three years was to review each and every one of the foundation files and then type (and yes, I mean type as it was 1983!) a chronological summary. It may sound tedious to you but I actually really liked it. It was a much-needed respite from my rigorous studies and each onion skin paper correspondence was like a little bit of history. It gave me even more pride in my school reading about our worthy projects. I was doing good, getting paid and it seemed easy to me. So, with no better idea, I got my first non-profit job after graduation in 1986 and never looked back.

Then, somewhere along the way things soured. The pressure of meeting the budget month after month, year after year outweighed the satisfaction of “making a difference.” Donors demanded more for their gifts. Board members seemed more interested in one-upmanship than service.  New media and technology required we attract a younger audience – most of whom couldn’t care less about philanthropy. Everyone in the office seemed stressed and uncooperative.  

But, the straw that broke the camel’s back came in the form of an “urgent” phone call from my boss about paper stock for a brochure during my mother-in-law’s funeral. I hung on for a few more months, but I knew I was toast.

Meanwhile, in my personal life, I had been cultivating an interest in food and nutrition for years. I gave up red meat while I was a student living in Eastern Europe in the 80s. Later in my 20s I successfully used vitamins to cure my acne after a horrible scare with a toxic antibiotic that was affecting my brain! I began devouring all the information I could on nutrition, alternative healing and holistic health in magazines, TV, and lectures. I began advising friends to try Echinacea at the first sign of a cold, to drink more water as a cure for just about everything, to cut down on dairy during allergy season, to take up yoga, etc.

So when began thinking of what my second act would look like it was pretty clear where my passion lives now. But the leap…oh the leap! How does one take a 25-year career in fundraising and all of a sudden become a …hmmm…well I’m still not sure what I want to be?

The answer is you don’t “all of a sudden” do anything. And that’s what’s so challenging and scary. I have always thrived on structure and busy-ness and now I live day to day with only myself as a task-master. As my father used to quote from Invictus (way too often, by the way:)

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Whether or not I fully subscribe to that theory, I know that only I can figure out my future. I don’t want to “fall into” another career. I don’t want go back to fundraising just because it’s familiar and lucrative. I want to do something thing I believe in, something that uses my brain and heart, something that serves the greater good, but doesn’t involve 9-5 office stint (oh please Lord, never again!)

So for the past ten months -- along with spending more time with my family and tackling domestic projects that have been dogging me for years -- I have been researching educational opportunities, diligently doing my exercises from “What Color is Your Parachute,” reaching out to people in the fields of food and nutrition, reading all I can on the subject, teaching myself some new cooking techniques, getting back in shape, and pursuing a certificate in wellness at NYU (a first – but not last step in my education…more to come.)  

I am not so much following a path towards a goal but grasping at stars. It is new, unfamiliar and utterly unnerving. But I’m sticking with it.

 

                                                                                                   

Saying goodbye to office life (hopefully)

 

P.S. And about that not having a steady income….I am currently available for the following services: Wardrobe Purging and Closet Organization; Shopping Coach/Fashion Consultant; and Freelance Writer (but please no grant proposals!!!!) All at reasonable rates!