the haves, the have-nots and the have a WHOLE, whole lots

I think I've cracked the code, y'all. I've figured it out. I've figured out why not having a whole lot of money is so much different in New York than it is in, say, Memphis. Or Murray. Or any other half-way normal place.

This city has a way of reminding you of what you don't have on the regular. On the real regular. Like, every hour on the hour. When you're a kid growing up eating fish sticks and mac'n'cheese, you think you're eating those things because they're tasty. And by god, they are tasty -- and also really cheap. But the cost of fish sticks or mac'n'cheese or beanie weenies has just about as much impact on you as the price of tea in China, because it's not like there's someone sitting across the dinner table from you eating a pizza and ice cream buffet every night.

In New York, though, the grown person's equivalent absolutely exists. It's not just that some people have more than others; that happens everywhere. It's that some people have SO MUCH MORE than you that you begin to feel like you should be in some Sarah McLachlan commercial for abused puppies and kittens.

Last night, on my way in to work, some event was going on across the street from Avery Fisher Hall, where our offices are located. It was big, and ridiculous, with lots of lights and fake greenery, security, high fashion, red ropes and red carpets. And the whole affair is surrounded by these metal fences, as if you needed another reminder that you, the common folk, are not welcome at this exclusive, high-brow event. And sure, maybe there are high-brow, no-common-folk-allowed events in every major city from time to time. I'll give you that. But in New York? I typically see one or two every single day, at minimum.

It's these kind of displays of wealth, of absolute opulence, that begin to make you feel like a second class citizen. For no reason other than that you don't have a few million dollars lying around for a designer dress and some diamond earrings and an invite to a party serving exotic fish and wine from a country you've never heard of.

In other places, dare I say in more normal places, differences in wealth play out in more subtle ways. You have a bigger house. Maybe the car you drive is nicer, a bit newer. Maybe you're able to buy the latest handbag when it comes out, or you have more shoes. In New York, you'd probably still be considered lower middle class. They always say the gap between the rich and the poor is getting wider, but I don't think I ever truly felt or understood it until I lived here.

And then I think about how much money someone probably spent putting on that event the other night at Lincoln Center. Hundreds of thousands? Millions? On topiaries and candles and white tents and ice sculptures and fondue fountains shaped like high-heeled shoes? At least as much as the Gross Domestic Product of a mid-sized African nation. At the very least.


cheers,
elizabeth