Moreover, I've noticed some pretty wretched eating habits here, and this city itself is filthy. Regardless, it is what it is. In some ways, the town feels like a third-world country. The food at the grocery stores seems pretty questionable ($1.99/lb turkey breast?), nothing is ever labeled with a price tag, and they always make me hand over my bag when I enter in order to prevent shoplifting. Everything is sort of haphazardly organized. It took me forever to figure out where they keep the peanuts. I guess I should have assumed that they'd be in the dairy section, right?
Another thing: I find it odd that there are at least four hair salons on every block. What's even stranger is that they all seem to be packed and bustling with activity day and night. Those inside are often about my age, pregnant, and also have two children running in circles around them. Is it possible that these people are not concerned with showering, but are more than happy to get their hair done every day? Well, I think the salons are more of a social scene, too, and the women of Jackson Heights go there to gossip and exchange techniques for frying plantains.
For me, the most ghetto thing I have to deal with in Jackson Heights is my gym. When I was looking for an apartment, I wanted to live somewhere within walking distance from a place where I could exercise. What I found was "Gymnasio": The best gym slash planned parenthood center slash brothel in Queens. ¡Que bueno!
When I first walked into the gym, there was a woman sitting at the front desk. She was probably about forty years old, fairly obese, wore stained gray sweats, had severe acne, and went a little overboard with her makeup. We had a nice conversation about what to do for fun in Jackson Heights. I asked her if she went into the city much...
"No, way," she responded. "The subways are so dirty. I would never set foot on the subways in this city. I have everything I need here," said the filthy woman as she reached for another dorito.
I told her that I was interested in a gym, and asked if I could look around. She said, "No.", and that I could only enter after paying for a membership. I asked her if there were any trial memberships just to see if I liked the gym, and she said "Nope." Hmmmm. It sounded quite sketchy, but at less than $20/month, I figured I could take the risk.
Well, as far as gyms go, it's pretty bad. Half of the machines have said "out of order" since I've been here, most of the treadmills are broken, there aren't enough weights or benches, all of the cables are frayed, most of the patrons bring food and consume more calories at the gym than they burn, and nothing is ever cleaned. I frequently see condom wrappers in the stairwell by the entrance, too. Not sure what that's about.
I suppose I have made a friend there, though. One day, a woman was using the abdominal machine next to me. She was short, middle-aged, and overweight, but seemed pretty determined to get in better shape. Anyway, she got into the machine and started to do some crunches, when suddenly her weight caused the seat to unlock, and she plummeted and crashed to the ground, and then rolled for a few feet onto the floor. It looked painful, and I rushed to help her up. She said she was okay, though I imagine she had to be mortified.
A few minutes later, I was messing around with some five-foot long poles that they have lying around the floor for some reason, and I started spinning them like I used to with my marching band mace. The woman saw this, walked up to me, and asked me if I could teach her how to do it, too. I realized just then exactly how shameless she was, both because she wasn't embarassed after breaking the machine with her weight, and because she was blithely talking to me despite the disgusting dripping sweat stains over her crotch area.
Sure, Jackson Heights probably sounds ghetto, but there's a lot to love here. I really enjoy how ethnic it is. The Latin and South Asian presense provides for some excellent food. Also, my subway stop rocks because six lines run through it, and I can get almost anywhere in NYC with relative ease. Honestly, it truly is refreshing to come back here after spending all day in the chaotic and expensive city. It feels more "real" compared to commercialized Manhattan, and the people are much nicer. For a year, it's not a bad place to call "home."
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