New York women are classy

That's the rumor.

The first night I got here, Big was in a meeting so I got off the lovely megabus (which was parked in front of the Chinatown bus and I was heckled by the Chinatown bus drivers because clearly I am Asian with a bunch of bags and they almost kidnapped me/dragged me onto their bus) and headed to Borders.

My first interaction with a real "New Yorker", or a girl I just assumed to be one, took place in the Borders bathroom. As I lugged my giant kit bag and my Ninja-Turtle-shell backpack through the crowded narrow aisles, the whole time knocking displays over, people over, books over (aka leaving havoc and destruction in my wake a la Godzilla), I realized I had to use the ladies' room.

There would be a line in the ladies' room. Standing there, in awkward silence, trying not to hit people with my bags (because I swear, if I were in a bathroom and someone accidentally hit my bladder with a bag... a] I'd be pissed; b] the custodial staff would be pissed; c] and they'd be pissed because I would make them trade pants). There are only two stalls, and the line is inching forward. All of a sudden, a girl near the front whips around and asks, "Does anyone have a tampon?" Dead silence. And then her eyes, full of dwindling hope and rising despair, turn to me and my thousands of pounds of baggage. I sigh, tell her I think I might have one, and start to unpack on this dirty bathroom floor.

Victory and glory! I hand one over to her and she profusely thanks me, all the while giving COMPLETE overshare as to her cycle, etc. This opens the floodgates as all the other women in line start to chip in, discussing things that should only be shared between a lady and her lady doctor.

Finally, the line is down to just me and the woman in front of me. The regular stall door opens a few moments before the handicapped stall door. She takes a look at me and my piles of crap, and then waits that few moments before making a beeline to the handicapped stall. Really? REALLY?

I try to justify her poor life choice. Maybe she needs extra room because... she... has a big butt?

So I have, at this point, formed a biased and horribly twisted profile of all New York women based on 10 minutes in the bathroom of the Borders attached to Madison Square Garden. I am going to be a great world traveler.