Saturday, 7 September 2013

From the Bronx

So I realized that I never did tell you how long we were in the Bronx for. Now we're usually explorers. We love nothing more than going to cities and seeing what there is to offer. So far our weekends are still mostly taken up by choosing an area to go to explore. So on this fatal Saturday when we had nothing to do, we impulsively remembered that there was an authentic Italian area in the Bronx. Little Italy. This is where the good stuff is, the little stores with the in-store freshly made mozzarella. I couldn't wait. Then we got off the train. Now in London everything is by area, there are good ones and bad ones. In New York it's very much about streets. You can be on a really amazing street and if you turn right rather than left you suddenly find yourself in the crappiest place on earth. And we turned right.

From the get-go we knew we were in trouble. Immediately we were uncomfortable. It was everything about us. The way we walked, commanded the streets and dressed. Hipster Dufus couldn't have looked more preppy in bright summer shorts with a button up in a sea of below your bum jeans, attitude and swagger. I was holding a giant Lord & Taylor department store bag. Everything was made worse by the fact that the only map either of us had was on the iPhone. Every time he tried to get it out I'd shriek "please put your phone away!". Things got more tense when the map told us to walk down the roughest looking road in history. A cul-de-sac with a little click of imposing teens waiting at the end. "I'm not walking down there", "nah me either, I really need to look at my phone to see where we're going Ney". No matter how much I moaned I knew we were in trouble when I tried to hold Hipster Dufus' hand "you know what?" He started "I would really feel more comfortable if you didn't hold my hand right now". Wow, no Cheerios love here then! Who could blame him, after the fifth head had turned to look at us, we really didn't need more to call attention to ourselves. We struggled with the idea of going home, I really didn't want to be those pissy middle class idiots. But you know what, I wouldn't go and hang out in an estate in Brixton for fun so why should this be any different? When we saw another subway station, we looked at each other and it was mutual. Let's go home. This was 15 minutes later. 

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