How Rude!

I was having a drink with a friend at a non-descript bar on 78th street when a woman noticed his ring. He started talking about how it was his grandfather’s ring and she started finishing his sentences. Here was this woman on crutches, drinking a martini with four olives, and she was a genuine psychic. We ended up talking a while and she and her friend ended up buying us third round of Manhattans (thanks for the hangover ladies). When they left I started wondering why people think New Yorkers are so rude. It’s bizarre. Are they short? Yes. Do they cut to the chase? Absolutely. There are 3 million people on 3 square miles of island – these things are a necessity, but they are some of the most sincere, kind people I’ve ever experienced. The ceremonies of traditional conversation that exist so heavily on the west coast are completely void in this city. On the west coast, people ask you how you are not because they really want to know, but because it’s expected. New Yorkers will only ask you how you are if they really want to know. Otherwise, they’re not going to waste their time or breath on the words.
When I was staying at the hotel here, I approached a lady at the front desk, smiled, and said “Hello! Do you know what time check out is?” Later, it occurred to me that this was a complete “west coast” approach. Of course she knows what time check out is…she works here! A New Yorker in the same situation would simply say, “when is check out?” Done.
For this, across the country, New Yorkers are labeled as rude. “My lord,” people in Yakima, Washington say, shaking their heads, “she didn’t even ask me how I was. How rude!”
I happen to adore the direct, succinct nature of interactions here. There’s something genuine about it. New Yorkers aren’t generally in the habit of making false promises or phony declarations or asking questions when they don’t really care about the answer. That to me is refreshing, not rude at all.