Same Litter, Different City

Another bar preparation class and we are rounding up on Torts. Tort teacher is a bloody joker which makes the entire process much easier, thank God. Today, he says something that made me laugh AND think (this is huge because such mutually exclusive factors; laughing and thinking, rarely ever simultaneously exist…especially not in a law lecture. So gold star for you, Mr. Torts Teacher). He was talking about The Tort of Outrageous Conduct…..Bet you didn’t think that existed right? Well it does, so stop terrorising old ladies as they attempt to frustrate drivers by slouching snail-paced across the busy city streets. [Random side-note, American tort law almost works like what I understand of a civil law system, which is not much, but it seems they really try to cover every potential eventuality. It seems impossible but they have gone surprisingly far in addressing almost every possible situation that I can think about!! Cool!!!! iNerd]. But as usual, I digress.

I was talking about my torts bar prep class. So the teacher is this Al-Pacino…..actually I’m not sure who Al-Pacino is and I’m too lazy to google’mage but he sounds like a Brooklyn-born-Italian-raised-The Sopranos-main-character-looking- guy, which is exactly what my torts teacher is. Anyhooooooo, as a true new Yorker [Brooklyn native], my teacher says he thinks The Tort of Outrageous Conduct is rather daft. Why? Cos nothing really qualifies as ‘outrageous conduct’ to a New Yorker. This made me smile because I think that shameless, slightly misplaced pride resonates with almost everyone that lives/lived in a big city. According to him, the unofficial official motto for New Yorkers is “Forget About It!”

He said a typical New Yorker (synonymous in my mind with a Londoner/Lagosian/Parisiene etc) might be mid-commute, sitting on the subway and opposite him, calm as a baby whose milk has been spiked with rum by her tired mother, a fellow commuter sits, sipping his Pepsi…..from a severed human head. At this point, a lesser mortal may jump and burst into dramatics….”NOT I” said the cat…as does the seasoned commuter. Our commuter sees pseudo-voodoo king calmly sipping and potentially contemplating whose head looks nice enough to consume and as a true city warrior, the legendary busy-street dweller just, calmly, flips her newspaper/book/changes the song on her ipod….(to something appropriate like Ad Mortem by some Franz Ferdinand type).

Nothing fazes a city slicker,. After witnessing all sorts of barbarism the likes of which is reserved for display on public transportation, you get off the tube or ‘Danfo’ and with a shake of your neatly coiffed hair and a slightly irritated mutter of “Crazy Lagosians/Bloody stupid Londoners/Possesed New Yorkers!” , you exit at your stop….traipsing off to compare tales with your friends on the madness of city dwellers….and getting ready to board the very same train/bus tomorrow. Because seriously, it’s not that serious! *Le Sigh* I miss living in London…..true talk, my friend almost sat on a syringe on the tube today!!! *Shakes neatly coiffed hair *

I love cities, I’m allergic to nature so concrete over trees any day baybay. Not sure what I’m doing in leafy Cali just yet. The randomness of big cities never fails to amuse my soul. Quick story, 2 weeks ago I was in NY. Strolling down the street in my glorified glory, Diva Dust billowing at my feet as birds stopped mid-chirp to bask in the ambience of my fabulosity, LOL, a friend was by my side when we got approached by this ragamuffin looking hombre. The kind that just makes you re-evaluate yourself and prompts questions like “ Oh lord, what is this invisible scent that I have that ‘Dawgs’ like this ‘Kat’ in front of me think its perfectly ok to walk up to me and begin ‘a-conversating’?!?!?!”

So this dog-cat[I MUST cut BET from my diet, when grown men begin to refer to each other as domestic pets then you know the apocalypse is upon us], asks us for our names as we’re walking. Taking the piss (because I figure the universe must be having a laugh at my expense, I might as well play along) I say my friend is Gonorrhea and I’m Syphilis. He asks, “Tiffany??”…causing me to shout “SY-PHEEEEE-LLLIS”…on the crowded street. He looks upset and spends the next 2 minutes telling us to stop playing as we insist those were the names we were christened with. After about 5 minutes of ‘conversating’ with oxygen, as we strolled past him on our merry way, he stops in frustration and screams down the busy, crowded NY street “OK THEN, SEE YOU LATER GONORREAH AND SYPHILIS”…to much laughter and stupid sly smiles from people around. Slightly embarrassed but determined to have the last word, I scream back “ Goodbye AIDS!!”. Ah, good times, I heart NYC…..and life before bar prep.