This month I took a long vacation to reacquaint myself with New York City. Eight years have passed since I left Manhattan and the changes that have come to this city are nothing short of amazing. With the European dollar quite strong here, multiple languages ​​are spoken on every corner – French, Italian, German and Spanish are commonplace – and the cost of living has skyrocketed. If you can find four walls, a floor, and a roof with a private bathroom for less than $2,000 a month, consider yourself very lucky.

Thanks to the New York City Taxi and Limousine Commission (TLC), the city’s cabs now provide new modern luxuries: color television screens report local news and weather, air Conditioning is available and all cars are equipped with credit card machines. The TLC has even begun serving people with Attention Deficit Disorder. Last night while watching the local news, I learned that if I was distracted enough to forget my wallet, cell phone, or other personal item inside a taxi, I could simply report the total. the fee charged for my trip and approximate pickup and drop-off points, and the appropriate driver will be contacted to return my belongings (that is, of course, until no one has stolen them). Before long I imagine the TLC will be handing out free supplies of Ritalin/Adderall to every passenger.

The cost of essential miscellaneous items in Manhattan is staggering. Several days ago, I bought a single roll of toilet paper, a pack of dental floss, and a bottle of purified water, and the total cost of my purchase was the equivalent of dinner for two at Outback Steak House (alcoholic beverages not included). The high cost of living here is offset by savings on gas: a two-week unlimited subway card is just $47 and allows access to public transportation anywhere in Manhattan; Even better is traveling on foot – it’s inexpensive and doubles a great daily workout!

Speaking of workouts, living on a fixed income in Manhattan inspired me to hone the art of gym hopping. This is a highly specialized four-step process. Step 1 – Enter the gym, smile brightly, and express deep interest in becoming a member. Step 2: Be delighted when the membership director gives a guided tour of the facility. Present as a naive and innocent tourist fresh from the South and enamored with the New York City lifestyle. Remember to say “you are very nice” as often as possible (New Yorkers are very jaded and this is refreshing for them). Step 3: Sweetly inquire about trying several different classes at various times, and offer yourself some syrupy courtesies when the request is granted. Step 4 – After using up the maximum number of allotted free visits, quietly disappear and move to the next unsuspecting and geographically desirable gym. I excuse the blame by reminding myself that most gyms offer guest passes to members, and since I live in another state, I qualify as a guest of sorts.

With the gym hopping plan in full effect, I have enjoyed 3 complimentary yoga classes, two Pilates classes, multiple runs on the treadmill (fully equipped with media entertainment), access to free weights, nautilus machines, and various lunches. nutritious in the gym. restaurant (these in fact I paid). I’ve exhausted my stay at Equinox and my next plan is to explore the fancy Sports Club/LA where rumors on the street suggest annual membership is around $5,000.

Here, too, there are important cultural differences. I had to contact Verizon Wireless to request an upgrade to the unlimited texting plan on my cell phone, because New Yorkers seem to communicate exclusively through text messages. I’m late? Send a text. Change of plans? Send a text. Bored? Send a text. More in line with cell phone etiquette, I’ve learned that blue-toothed headsets are avoided here. Several times since my arrival, I have received hostile and angry comments and curiously concerned looks; Clearly, those people unfamiliar with wireless headphone technology deduced that I was either an eccentric weirdo or a delusional madman and was having a long and highly animated conversation with myself.

Since my arrival in Manhattan I have endured several unpleasant encounters with members of the geriatric population. As I was driving my shopping cart through the narrow aisles of the local Food Emporium, a woman who looked older than my 93-year-old grandmother looked at me and barked angrily, “Hurry up and move.” It was apparently still on southern time, and New Yorkers don’t appreciate anyone breaking their frenetic pace. Hey, I’m a New Yorker too and you should know this by now; perhaps the Charleston water has somehow altered the neurons that fire in my brain. She was torn between crying and bursting into hysterical laughter. Instead of a pathetic and barely audible “why is everyone so mean?” she escaped from my lips. Later, a good friend informed me that shopping carts, like bluetooth headsets, are unacceptable in the big city. He explained that proper etiquette in Manhattan is to buy only several items at a time, thereby eliminating the need for shopping carts and allowing for more space per square inch in narrow supermarket aisles.

My first encounter with the New York City public transportation system involved another very nasty verbal attack from a member of the geriatric population. Apparently, he was breaking a cardinal rule of cell phone etiquette on public transportation by talking too loud; an old lady in front of me yelled “try to speak a little louder honey, the people in the back of the bus can’t hear your conversation!”

My research on the New York City singles scene has quickly revealed that New York singles are not just jaded, but on the brink of bitterness. A close friend who has dabbled in the New York dating scene for the past 10 years informed me that all eligible New York single men inevitably retire to a mysterious land called “The Isle of Lost Men.” When I asked her to explain further, she launched into a tirade about men who simply vanish into thin air over the years, never to be seen or heard from again, aside from the occasional unexpected text. She described two very different types of New York City men: those who permanently retire to the Island of Lost Men, and others who retire to the Island but then periodically reappear at random intervals. Sadly, this particular friend has apparently given up on men entirely. When I even mention the “D” word to single women over 30 in Manhattan (D stands for dating), they all seem to get a glazed, lost look in their eyes before going over the myriad reasons why dating in Manhattan is a waste. of time. weather. There is something very sad about this picture, in a city where there are possibly more eligible singles per square foot than anywhere else in the world.

I knew a woman, divorced several years ago, who walks around town with a miniature Yorkshire terrier in her bag and claims that the dog brings her more joy and satisfaction than all her previous lovers combined. Another woman claimed that she finally found her happiness with a nerdy overweight bald man who makes her laugh and she seems to appreciate her best qualities more than the arrogant “cute boys” she has dated in the past.

Single men also seem jaded and on the verge of bitterness. Several have described his relentless fight against the feared “gold diggers”; women who look at professional occupation, real estate holdings, and general net worth. Manhattan men often describe women here as cold, professional, opportunistic, and social climbers. One man adopted a puppy in the hope that his daily outings to the dog park might facilitate contact with a genuine, down-to-earth woman, another man claims to schedule several consecutive dates, designating the women in blocks of time thirty minutes in the hope of maximizing the statistical probability of meeting Mrs. Right. I’ll qualify by acknowledging that not all New York singles have this attitude, and many find lasting love here; however, disenchanted people tend to speak much louder.

Still reeling from the high cost of living here, I’ve tried to compensate by sticking to a reasonable food budget. Being wallet-conscious can be challenging in a city where culinary temptations infiltrate every street and avenue. If one wishes to save some precious money in the big city but still enjoy wonderful food, pizza is always a reliable alternative. The average cost of pizza is $2.65 a slice, and New York pizza is purely heavenly: thin, crispy crust, greasy, and full of flavor. For those with a sweet tooth, Tasti-D-Light, an ice cream and frozen yogurt franchise, graciously offers generously sized samples of their daily flavors, and bagel shops are plentiful; A take-out bagel sandwich is certainly more reasonably priced than a full-service restaurant meal with tax and tip. My favorite is H&H Bagels in my old neighborhood back east in the 1980s.

The weather in New York City this week has been from the 1970s with plenty of sunshine. Today I kicked off my shoes for a bit and kicked back barefoot on the grass of another old favorite hangout, Sheep’s Meadow in Central Park, where people enjoy picnics, Frisbee tosses, sunbathing, and old-fashioned relaxation. As I sat there listening to Billy Joel’s New York State of Mind on my headphones (yes, iPods are acceptable here) and enjoying the afternoon warmth, I admired the beauty of the midday sunlight reflecting off the windows. glass of high-rise buildings. around Central Park. I admired the striking contrast of pure and simple nature blending with elegant urban architecture. The glamor and glitz of Manhattan may be alluring, and the cost of living sure is daunting, but a sunny afternoon barefoot in the park is priceless.