"Don't trash my city you sonofa@#! I can do it myself."
This should be the mantra of New Yorkers. I've never met a population so intensely proud of its city, yet so slipshod about keeping it clean. Tell a New Yorker that there is something wrong with this town, and he'll castigate you fervidly while he indifferently tosses the wrapper from his cheeseburger on the sidewalk. New Yorkers love their city, yet their cast-off rubbish blows through the streets like modern tumbleweeds -- and I'm fairly certain that said rubbish didn't grow on prairies in Hoboken before rolling through town.
Recently, I witnessed a paradigmatic model of this behavior. I was walking to the train and I noticed the owner of a house a few doors down from mine, standing in front of his building, kicking irritably at something on the sidewalk. As I got closer, I realized that he was kicking the garbage that lay in front of his home -- into the street. An empty, available garbage can sat fifteen feet to his left. I couldn't look away.
Who are these people?
Monday, July 17, 2006
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