Dear Diary:
It is what tourists pass down in legend and suburbanites fear. The ineffable personality of New Yorkers cannot be handled lightly, as it is too complicated to be forced in one direction.
There is something that makes New Yorkers speed walk down the street, unaware of whom they may hit in a sharp swerve of their leather briefcases, or clear their throats when someone is talking to the post office teller for longer than a minute. Is it the pipes, the same culprit for our superior bagels? Whatever it is, the trait was showcased this past week and saved my dog’s life.
At 76th and York, a stray pit bull attacked our golden retriever. The all-too-clichéd evil preying on pure gold. As soon as the attack began, New Yorkers ran over to help, eventually freeing my dog of the aggressor. One man in particular carried the bleeding 80-pound victim to his car, where he then drove him and my mother to the animal hospital.
This assertiveness, this feeling of justification at every jaywalking crime scene, is our spirit. It feeds our reputation as a population and makes the city the strongest and most unique in the world. But most importantly, it makes us one.
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