Story 2: Oh, New York, New York...

Chap.1 Yeah boy

Manhattan, skyscrapers, The Great Gatsby, avenues... – That’s how I imagined New York for 20 years. And then... The plane lands, the passport is stamped, the suitcase is picked up... and from the taxi window, to an Aerosmith song, you inhale the wind of freedom... (which is supposed to make your hair flutter, of course).

Oh boy (as Americans would say). Geographical ecstasy.

But after 5 minutes in Times Square, you realize that this very wind, on whose wings you flew from Balandino airport to JFK, is firmly and long-soaked with the scent of homeless people sleeping on every corner, handsome guys, and the smell of trash rotting on the sidewalks of the unofficial capital of the USA.

“You just went to the wrong places!” they tell me in response to my indignation.

Seriously? The wrong places? Where should I have gone? Why did no one warn me that Wall Street would smell bad, and on Fifth Avenue, I would have to do a grand battement over a sewage river?

Well, yeah, we didn't see any homeless people in Central Park, consider yourself lucky.

Fine, we were just “in the wrong place,” okay.

Chap.2 Subway surf

If your life is too calm, then, as they say, “Welcome!”.

So, on Kasimina (see story #1), an African-American grandmother leaned over to rest on the subway. Standing up. And that would be fine, but for some reason, when she woke up, she exclaimed with a dissatisfied face: “Miss!”. Like: “Hey, woman, why aren't you holding me?”

Lifehack: in any confusing situation in the USA, start speaking Russian. Even the most brazen ones don't know how to respond to our polite: “Young man, unfortunately, I don't understand a word of this gibberish you just uttered.” Problems are usually solved with one sentence. Any word with our Russian “rrrrr” sound scares people: they raise their eyebrows, nod respectfully, and walk away silently.

This worked always and everywhere, but not at the “Brooklyn Bridge” subway station, where I again said with an impassive look to a tanned gentleman that I didn't know how to speak his language. And then he replied with his tanned mouth: “You understand everything. And I remember you.”

Really? Just... You would remember, there’s no one else white here besides Kasimina and me. #saynotoracism

Chap.3 This side of Brooklyn Bridge

As you guessed, we spent the last 2 days of our stay in the USA living in Brooklyn. It’s a place where if your skin color is even slightly lighter than the earth, you are “beautiful”.

And I don't even know what hardened me more: 3 years of studying at the “heat engineering” department or 2 days of living in Brooklyn. Anyway, not a bad experience. Sharing:

A) “Hey Arnold!” was “filmed” in Brooklyn.

B) We lived in a house like “Hey Arnold!”’s.

C) Not with Arnold, but with his tanned friend Gerald.

D) And with other very tanned guys.

E) Better lock the door at night.

F) And push the wardrobe.

Against the door.

Another lifehack: if you belong to this very “beautiful” category, then even on a hot day in Brooklyn, don't forget to wear something baggy that hides your body from neck to toe.

The main thing is not to attract attention: nobody likes show-offs. Although no. They like them too much.

#usatoday #tobecontinued