New York is the city of black people. I don't mean skin color, I mean clothes. Everywhere you go, people are wearing black... It's a way of fitting in. But it makes us stick out. I say "us" because I do it too... I have a black jacket that I usually wear with either black pants or regular jeans (another fit-in item of clothing)... New Yorkers are all the same. We are unique for our attempt at being non-unique and unoriginal. Creative for being non-creative. In San Francisco everyone wears bright colors! Miami they wear bikinis. L.A. people barely wear anything. New Yorkers wear black, no matter the time of year. It's a way of telling people to mind their own business. No one wants to ask directions from a guy wearing a black hoodie, head pointed down, cheap aviators on his face... I'm talking about myself here. I'm a nice guy, but I hate having stupid tourists ask me stupid information about stupid things. "Excuse me, does this train go stop at 103rd street?" Look at the freaking subway map in front of you, fool! I'm not the MTA. I know where I have to go, and that's all I care about. I do, of course, know where the train happens to stop (because I know everything), but don't my hood and headphones indicate to you that I'd rather you not ask me?
Back to the point... I mind my own business and blend in like everyone else... usually. I'm not a prick who walks with his head up, Armani suit emphasized by a Brooks Brothers tie, all topped off with a Tumi two thousand dollar brief case. Those are the people who step on dog crap on the pristine New York City sidewalks. I keep my head down, reflective sunglasses on, staring at the ground. I'm the one who notices the fresh shoe print in the now-flattened poop, not the one who steps in it. It works for me. Keep your chin up and your head down... That's how you get by in the robot city.
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