A young professional's take on the trials and tribulations of everyday life in New York City.
By Nina Pajak
Well, hello Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. We meet again. I didn't know if you'd have the nerve to show up this year, but here you are looking all giant and smug. As though you own the joint just because you suffer from some form of gigantism and require an incredible amount of scaffolding and barricades and caution tape and workers and security guards and personal space in a relatively small and extremely crowded public plaza. Yeah. Like that. Real nice, tree. Real nice.
I wish they wouldn't put those tacky colored lights all over you, but I know that's not your fault. However, the following things are:
1. I can no longer cross or even pass by the plaza without getting caught in a sea of slow-moving people taking photographs of each other. From now until January 2nd, every trip departing from my Midtown office will now take three times as long. And for those of us who are punctually challenged, accounting for such delays is virtually impossible. Thus I must now be three times as late as I normally am, ergo losing three times as many friends as I once had. Don't think about that one too hard. Trust me, the math works.
2. The very same crowd who plagues me above is so large and unwieldy that it naturally bleeds down into the underground concourse. This, I believe, I have previously discussed. What does it take to get a sandwich around here, anyway? You wouldn't know, so you wouldn't care.
3. On November 30th, I will be forced to evacuate my office in advance of said ugly multi-colored lights being lit due to hoards of celebrants and Justin Bieber. I mean, thanks for the Biebs and all, but every year I fail to leave early enough to avoid running into some drunk teenager bawling for whatever inconceivable reason. I think last year I heard someone sobbing on 6th avenue, "I come every year and I always miss the lighting!" Perhaps you shouldn't have drank that entire Nalgene full of vodka and orange juice, or you wouldn't have spent the ceremony in the bathroom at Cosi.
4. Just shut up, tree. And wipe that smile off your face.
5. Uh, you stink. No, that's not true. Actually you smell quite piney and nice.
6. Bah humbug.
Another year, another season. Game on, tree.
Dear Readers: While I am rarely at a loss for words, I'm always grateful for column ideas. Please feel free to e-mail me your suggestions.
Nina Pajak is a writer and publishing professional living with her husband on the Upper West Side.
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