ur typical sunday night

i’m eating wing stop with my friends and sister on the boardwalk when a bug lands on the hood of my sisters sweatshirt. a blood curdling scream escaped her mouth and she took off running. she ran back to us screaming “get it off of me” on repeat. the only think we could do, was sit back and die of laughter. her screams kept coming, each scream louder than the one before it.

in between the screaming, running, head shaking, and recording, i stopped to look around at who was around us. a man on the bench over sat there taking a few glances at us not concerned in the slightest. to him this was a normal night on the boardwalk. kids being stupid, causing a scene and screaming.

there was no ounce of worry on his face. not worry about us or himself. he simply couldn’t care less. he simply wasn’t surprised.

after the bug was finally removed from off my sister, we took a walk and shared what we each saw and heard during this hilarious moment. my sister finally finding words instead of screams said she heard someone mimic her scream….

mimic a scream. not run to help. mimic. welcome to NYC.

nothing about this bothered us, just simply the alarming truth of growing up in the city. screams are normal, background noise to many, or a reminder to be nosy for others.

growing up, we were always told, if having a situation where you are in harms way, DONT scream “help”. scream “fire”. why? you might ask. because NYC people are selfish. they won’t put their own life in harms way. everyone thinks the next person will help you out when in reality, no one is helping. however, screaming fire means they too are in danger, so they will rush to make sure everything is okay.

not sure what that says about us… not sure i care.