Why America, or Typical Day in New York
'25.04.2018'
I am often asked why I “sold my soul” to Mrs. America. To understand and - most importantly - to accept my reasoning on the topic “Why America”, I will tell the story of ONE DAY FROM MY LIFE in the USA.
My Monday began with bringing to mind what started earlier. Two weeks ago, I went to see a doctor. In the hospital, I spent twice as much time as I had originally planned, and I didn’t want to go to receive medicines (even if they were free). “Later” - I promised myself and happily went out into the street. Therefore, on Monday I had to go exclusively for medicines. I ordered SUV through my favorite taxi app, but unfortunately it did not arrive on time. Morning traffic jams failed.
Ugg ... I thought - and ordered the next one. After 5 minutes, a huge S. I usually sit in the front seat, but only I wanted to slam the door behind me when I heard: “Ma'am, please do not slam the door hard. I need to quietly ”. I turned away and made a very surprised face, but motherly slammed the door shut. By accent and appearance, I realized that he was from Eastern Europe. We got to talking, naturally going to Russian.
I was a little annoyed by the beginning of our meeting, so I didn’t really get into the conversation, answering with definite phrases. Then the course of our conversation took suicidal twist: economy and state of affairs in Russia.
I do not really like to talk on this topic. Usually, everything ends with an endless discussion in which rarely anyone is right. Although I am always open to good debates and, moreover, I can even change my opinion, but only if a person cites facts from his personal life, rather than squeezing out of himself generalized baseless statements that he heard from someone else.
My driver was from Uzbekistan. He spoke about his life in the USSR, not forgetting to spice up everything with his knowledge in the production of weapons. Next came my turn to speak. After the question “what do you think?”, 2 usually has a scenario: to say that I’m not particularly interested and supposedly well where we don’t exist, or to make a leap of faith and give a full, detailed answer, while realizing that most likely, my opponent will miss everything by the ears. Ten minutes later, I heard: "I see ...". Long pause. “You're not like everyone else.”
I decided to go even further and talked about Brighton Beach. It is completely different from the rest of New York. It seems that he is timeless and everything works in his mmm ... inhibited mode.
When I first came to America, I immediately realized that I would not be able to move far at a local pace. Also, many in Brighton Beach tend to cover America with a variety of unflattering words. Why? So accepted.
Halfway there, my new acquaintance interrupts me and betrays: “I, like my wife, believe that if I don’t like it, let them leave. America is a land of immigrants. Remain those who like it here. Yes, there is a lot to do, but America is just. ” Needless to say, I was pleasantly shocked. After all, I think so too.
For an absolutely inexplicable reason, immigrants come to America and think, they say, the air here is filled with wonderful fluids of happiness, and the Americans themselves are just thinking how to offer you a high-paying job or even marry. For me, so Brighton Beach is full of frustration. Everything is completely, they say, not as it should, and all Americans are filled with lies and pseudo-smiles.
In New York, there are many similar “gatherings of immigrants from their country”, but the only difference between them from Brighton is where people realized AND HAVE ADOPTED that they needed to plow in the United States to at least survive.
Go inject a waitress if you are unable to become a Cinderella. If you're lucky enough to find a job with such competition. After all, the tale of paradise and unicorns attracts thousands of hunters for American gold. Nobody really discloses - GOLD NEED TO REMOVE.
We said goodbye to my new acquaintance and finally talked to each other a bunch of sugary compliments.
In the pharmacy of my hospital I was in for a pleasant surprise. After only some 15 minutes, my tablets were ready, they did not even have time to drink coffee. I go to the window to pick them up, give the card, and here a very friendly lady announces to me: “Honey, you need to renew the insurance. I can't give you free medicine until you decide this question. ”
Oh my God. My.
I smiled back and said that I would be back in 30 minutes. There were almost no queues at the department, but to renew the insurance - full or partial - you need to show more than one document: a certificate of income, registration and a document on immigration status. Naturally, I had nothing with me. So I explained to the social worker: they say, excuse me, no one told me anything in advance, I forgot that my card expires, but I need the medicine TODAY. You are welcome.
The young girl began to calm me down and promised to issue temporary insurance today. The main thing is to return within 30 days and fix everything. “OKAY, have a nice day!” - I said and went to wait for a temporary card. I decided to while away the time by chewing even more goodies from the cafeteria and at the same time talking with a friend from the MINItube.
Another 45 minutes - and here I am at the finish line. It remains only to pay $ 4 for medicines and faster for fresh air.
The only and very significant plus of my long trip - I will not have problems with MRI and other expensive procedures. YAAY! I also took a bunch of additional material for video diaries. Ay yes I am!
On the street I was greeted by a wind piercing to the bone, but what a difference. The main thing is that I did everything planned. I decided not to get into a taxi right away, but to take a walk and reward myself with a trip to my favorite FRESH & CO salad franchise. I checked the nearest cafe on Google and went to Park Avenue. Then she opened the wallet and found a small problem. I forgot mine Mickey Mouse card houses! THERE'S PANCAKE, I have exactly 10 dollars left in cash, which probably will not be enough for a salad ... I thought that nothing bad would happen if I just checked in and checked the prices.
The nice little green cafe was almost empty. I went straight to the checkout, where a young girl with a huge Louis Vuitton bag was paying. I noticed the bag right away, and the old worn sneakers and long-undyed hair were only at the checkout. The girl was loudly indignant, they say, how this small bottle of Vitamin water costs $ 3.50. Then she refused the water and bought only a small soup and left, slamming the door furiously.
I looked at the departing figure and immediately politely admitted to the cashier that I had forgotten the card at home and I only have a dozen and some small change in my pockets, so I need to know to my cent how much my favorite is Summer salad with Chiken. The pretty mulatto nodded her head with understanding, smiled, calculated the amount and took out a coupon for 3 $, which is usually meant for new customers. I began to shine from happiness and thanked for the salad, which with the coupon went to $ 9.80. Even left on diet soda. A small gesture of kindness, but a huge charge of cheerfulness for the whole day.
Comparing myself with Miss Louis Vuitton, I would like to emphasize: I like most of all in America that being polite and good attitude towards people is valued much higher than your swollen ego. “The rich lady from Fifth Avenue” has not yet clearly realized this.
Sitting at a table in high spirits, I immediately wanted to become a food blogger and obfotkat salad from all sides. I love fotkat when I have a good mood.
A little about me and the photo: I'm an absolute maniac, I like to take 50 photos of the same object. Then turn to the video. Should I clarify - I usually attract increased attention from others, especially if I get up on a chair in pursuit of the best frame.
To my delight, the common table was empty except for one guy. I immediately prepared an excuse if he asks why I need so many pictures. The golden answer in America is I HAVE A BLOG! Then, instead of a questioning expression on your face, you get a smile followed by the question "What?" - and a wish for success at the end.
For example, you shoot someone else's dog in the smallest suit. The owner may not like this, but if you shut him up with an excuse about the blog, he will be very happy, because his dog will be published in some cool place.
I noticed that my table neighbor was wearing a blue medical uniform and he was not at all up to my photo adventures. He quickly dove his salad and went back to the hospital. I adore when I dress in an incomprehensible combination of a business sweater with a baseball cap, I take an indecent amount of photos not only of my food, but of everyone else, and no one pays attention to me. #PERFECT
The salad was excellent to the last bit of apple. I packed up and called VIA taxi. The driver arrived even earlier than I expected and greeted me with a typical American “How are you? :)”. Not bad, I muttered back and said, how I wish that we did not have a decent spring in New York. We got to talking. My driver turned out to be a native New Yorker. Big rarity in our area.
I briefly told my story of the move, concluding with the sentence “I am from a very cold country and for me the local winter is a very favorable time of year”. “Do you have summer there?” He asked innocently.
I have already been asked this question many times. Usually they mean if we have such a hot summer as theirs and how long it lasts. Then he told me that New York, unfortunately, is not very friendly compared to the rest of America, but there are still a lot of good people. “Everything is relative,” I said, “a metropolis will never be a pretty provincial town.” John agreed with me almost everywhere and asked where I live and what my rent was. He himself lives with his family in Astoria and pays more than $ 2 000 for an apartment and, although he loves this area in Queens, he would prefer to move to New Jersey, where there are more houses and less than a third to rent.
Then we laughed all the way over his funny companions and his childhood friend from China. Great fellow, but he adored there are CHIPS WITH AQUEALS that smell awful. I said that I also have such a friend, and in general, Chinese food in America is 300 times fatter than the original. There was a feeling that we have known each other for years. We promised each other to order Chinese food on arrival home and said goodbye, like old friends. With a great mood, I crossed the threshold of my house.
So back to the question WHY AMERICA. Most of all in America I like PEOPLE. I flatter conversations with strangers, even on the most intimate topics. I can’t imagine my existence without the constant “Good Day” and “Ma'am”. We are all different, but the same in one - we came to change our life for the better. And we are ready to work day and night to achieve our goal.
I think the very essence of the expression “WHY YOU ARE IN AMERICA” has lost its meaning a little. The problem here begins with the question. America is my home. I am not here on earnings, not on business trips and not on studies. I live here. I feel at ease. I chose America because I believed in it. I believed that I could build a real house here. Isn't this the point of moving?
The reason for a temporary stay in America can be any, sometimes very multifaceted. The reason for the true move is always simple - to arrange a new destiny, a new hearth, a new family and a bright future for your children.
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