As my time in Florida nears its end, I realize I have yet to share what could be one of my “highlights” from the trip. This story could also highlight one of the reasons why I can never leave New York.
K, my father-in-law, and I went to dinner at a Thai restaurant. As we entered the small restaurant, I noticed a woman staring at me. She was eating dinner with a man and I noticed that she had been drinking. She leaned across her table slightly, believing that I would not be able to hear that comment she was going to make to her companion. The problem with her plan was that I was sat only three tables away from her. So, as I took my seat, removed my leather bomber jacket, and adjusted my cap, I heard her say “awwww. He looks like a little jockey!” She then proceeded to stare at me for the rest of her time in the restaurant.
The incident didn’t bother me too much (I have been called many different things in my life and there’s nothing wrong with being called a jockey) but it’s just a reminder of the vast gulf between the culture of NYC and Florida. In NYC, I’m one of many fashionable guys. In Florida, they’re about five years behind the times. If I ever do leave NYC, I’m going to need to plan yearly trips back to the Big Apple just to stock up on culture, fashion, and just life in general.
When I go to school, I have the feeling that people there are about five to ten years ahead of where I live. I love my hometown, but it can be insanely annoying to see how my family and friends are so far behind the times. The thing is, people around home don’t realize it, and they don’t have any desire to go someplace else to experience “culture.” It’s almost a bad word, really. It reminds me of the story, somewhat, where the American factories produced in developing countries because the labor was keeper. Things were going smashingly for the firms, but then all of a sudden, the labor dried up. When the firms enquired why the workers weren’t coming back to work, they got the answer, “Because we got enough money to pay for all that we need.” The firms proceeded to provide a Sear-Roebuck catalog, and the labor came back to work. When shown what they could have but didn’t, people desired it and needed to come back to work to get it. They had be satisfied where they were and thought that things were hunkydoory, no need for change, simply normal. I would surmise it’s that way the world over.
When I was in seminary — particularly the Princeton leg — I spent a great deal of my time feeling that I was living in the late 1950s or maybe early 60s. The prevailing cultural “feel” of the place was about that far behind New York, especially in matters of sex and gender. It was immensely annoying, until by the end it became sort of cute.
I don’t get the jockey thing as often as you might think, though. Probably because of my middle-aged gut.