(As he thrusts his chin up and in my direction) “Whoawh! Wheh you from? You tawwlk like you’re not from here on LawnGuy-lind. Hey! Listen to her orduh. G’head. Say it again.”
I’d like a tall black tea lemonade, please?
“You hear dat!? Git outta here wi’h dat. Ha!”
And so, here on Long Island, I FINALLY had my first “what did you just say?” experience.
Made me think of the Brian Regan joke re: hooked on phonics.
Writing this down I’m suddenly reminded, despite moving around for the last 21 years, I grew up in California. We don’t HAVE accents. To be fair, I do say “dude” a lot. The last time someone questioned my accent I was pumping gas near Pitkin, Louisiana. The clerk asked “where y’all are from” as I handed her cash. I looked over my shoulder, believing I was alone in the store. She asked again. I finally stammered, “Me?” She looked at me like I had three eyes and said, “Yeah. Y’all talk sump’in funny.” Riiiiiiiight. I left quickly.
Note to self: call Kamey and Meg once a week to keep my vernacular in check. They are quick to point out I end up sounding like the person I’m talking to. Not sure what that leaves in store for my future since I’m not here for a visit.
I actually moved to New York City. And yes, saying that reminds me of the old Pace Picante Sauce commercials.
After driving 3,346 miles, visiting friends in Phoenix, Abilene and Dallas, sleeping outside of Nashville and spending a week with my nephews (and my godbaby Mama and Daddy) in Fredericksburg and visiting some great friends in the DC Metro area, I am in New York City. The Bronx, specifically. Holy crap. I moved to New York City. I’ve been in every borough; driven over more bridges than I can count. I found myself on one bridge on accident and had to make a u-turn and immediately drive back over it. Worst part of that u-turn? I had to pay the same toll three times that day.
Getting lost is expensive in New York!
Anyhow. People laughed when I said I was bringing my truck to the city. (Of course, some people laugh when I call it a truck, so there’s that.) I drive a Toyota Tacoma. Six speed. That’s fun in traffic. The back up camera makes parallel parking somewhat easy(er.) Blah, blah, yeah. I have a truck and I wasn’t gonna just leave it in SoCal. Ok. Back on track.
Why, you ask? Why am I here? I accepted a position working for the United Nations. What? #IKnowRight? #I’mSoExcited More on that soon!
Tomorrow is my first day. In addition to snapping in at work and learning the subway system, I’ve got to find a place to live. So far, East Harlem is the top contender. It’s more space for the money, I can get to my office with only one transfer on the subway or train, there’s a lot of culture and some really cool green spaces. Do I sublet? Lease? Commute? Should I live near this line or that line The train or the subway?
We shall see. If you know of anyone looking for a nonsmoking, single tenant with no kids, no pets and no illegal proclivities, send me a note. (not a roomate. a tenant)
In the meantime, I’m crashing in the Bronx and hoping my accent doesn’t fade.