My complaining reflex got all fucked up in Jakarta. I never once shut up about little stuff like ticks of the service industry (fucking waiter, stop watching me while I count out money), the song choices of cover bands (I will stab the next person who plays Hotel California in the fucking face), or the temperature of beer (warm).But I found I could easily suppress my bitching when it came to the big stuff. The city's entirely flooded and I can't get to work? Day off! Been sitting in traffic for two hours and moved a quarter mile? Catching up on my reading! There's a bloody riot uptown? North to adventure! And certainly not least: The sidewalks are completely covered in food and trinket vendors wherever they haven't collapsed into the semi-open sewer below. Convenience comes to me!
Now that I'm back in New York, I have little sympathy for the assholes on the train who huff and snort when it stops in the tunnel for two minutes. Nor do I care for these fucking people. I can't wait for the day that having to walk 18 inches out of your way because of all the awesome Italian restaurants crowded around is considered a problem in any other neighborhood on the planet.
BUT, As I do love to complain about the small stuff, I guess I'm siding with the inconvenienced Little Italians anyway. AND, it's totally sort of a pain in the ass. You're stuck behind some fairly slow walker just vaguely itching for a chance to pass and then they just rein up and stop? Fuck that. You might think sidewalks are a part of commerce but come on, I'm walking here!
write about fooooood!
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