New York Hospitality

I recently moved to Manhattan, and by recently, I mean exactly one week ago today. I don't know what I was expecting when I left my Southern California home, but everyone kept telling me that it would be "different." A lot of people told me that New Yorkers are rude and direct, that I should be prepared to fend for myself or be trampled down by the horde.

I won't say that this stereotype is entirely false (after only a week, I can't consider myself a credible source on anything, really), but I will say that my experience thus far completely contradicts it. When waiting for my bags at the airport, before the last one had even come around on the turn-style, a man came around asking if we (I was with my friend Edy who'd come along for moral support) needed a taxi. We said we did, and he immediately offered his help with our bags and bade us follow him. This was not the kind of service I expected; in fact, I was quite taken aback by it. I expected to have to go out of my way, push bystanders to the ground, and holler at the top of my lungs to get around in this city, and here was a man offering to take me where I needed to go without my even asking. It wasn't until later, crossing the street a few paces behind him, that I heard a voice over the loud speaker say "Please do not accept unsolicited offers for ground transportation." Edy threw me a glance that said "let's turn back," but as the suspect cab driver had one of my bags, I motioned for him to continue to the other side of the street before abandoning 1/3 of my belongings. When we reached the other side, we politely told him we thought we'd rather take a shuttle into town, took back the bag he'd been carrying, and headed back where we'd come from.

This incident not withstanding, I've found many New Yorkers to be quite helpful. When we finally reached the line of city taxis waiting for patrons, an airport employee handed us a pamphlet on New York transit and pointed us to our designated cab, where the driver took our bags, asked our destination, and then asked whether we minded taking the East River route. After inspecting that route on the gps in the back seat, we agreed, then headed off to my apartment.

One, possibly more convincing, instance of New York hospitality took place the next day as we attempted to board our first subway train. We'd walked all the way from Wall Street up to Central Park South, a fairly significant distance if you know the area, and had no intention of retracing our steps. So, we looked for a route that looked like it might take us home, then descended into the terminal where the map indicated we would find our train. However, the signs at the bottom of the stairs didn't correspond with what the map told us, and from thence came a bout of confusion that had us turning in semi-circles, looking for any kind of subway worker that might be able to help us. Not finding one, we were nearing despair when a lady walking by noticed us and asked what we needed. We told her the A train, and she pointed us down the passageway, up the stairs and over to the other side. We thanked her, then proceeded to purchase our passes. As we walked down the platform, we passed her again, and she smiled and repeated her previous instructions, asking if we were ok. There was more hospitality in this woman than I've met with in any stranger in California who wasn't trying to sell me something.