A Whack in the Face

I know I am home.

First off, on the way back home from the airport, Mel and I were yelling (a bit) at the other stupid drivers with out of town license plates (yes we are evil when it comes to the highway) because they drove too slow and don't know how to handle NYC traffic.

Secondly, I went into the city and preceeded to be swarmed by tourists and people who actually STOPPED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SIDEWALK to take photos of the "really tall buildings." MOVE IT, people!

Thirdly, I totally lost my uptown-downtown/East Side-West Side orientation. Shame on me.

Fourthly, in my futile search to find a pink Nintendo DS Lite (obviously sold out because every kid wanted one for Christmas) I got whacked in the face by a father at the Toys R Us in Times Square (stupid, stupid move Maria, you do NOT go to Times Square!) wielding those plastic security cases with a video game inside. There is a scratch along my right eye, and the father proceeded to say "Sorry!" so fast and so loud as if I was going to pounce on him because he wacked me in the face.

I was exclaiming rather loudly, but no I wasn't going to kill him.

I am a NICE New Yorker.

But sometimes, I do give out the wrong directions on the subway. That's an accident.