I Am A Town

Sitting on a plane delayed for four and a half hours is boring. The two positives were that I got a free bag of cashews, the kind I assume the cranky flight attendant was meant to sell for five dollars during flight, and the opportunity to overhear a conversation that made me think. As much as I enjoy thought provoking conversations, I didn't want to hear this one any more than I wanted a bag of cashews at 8:30am. I wanted to be in Chicago heading to my meeting. Since some combination of Midwestern weather and air traffic controllers conspired against me to make that impossible, I made the best of the situation. We were waiting (as opposed to flying, which is what I prefer to be doing while seated in aircraft) in a regional jet and I was two rows behind the conversants. Despite listening to music through earphones, it's hard not to hear when people are overly loud. At least the cashews were tasty.

Here's how the conversation proceeded: early middle-aged guy, clearly a frequent traveler, is chatting up the woman across the aisle from him. Guy is explaining his glamorous life as a private equity investor. Woman is an accountant and not really listening. He tells her about his family. No interest. Drops a few comments on recent events. Noncommittal replies. He asks where she lives. She's in Rye. He asks how she likes it. That does the trick - now she's involved. Woman launches into the familiar list of all the things wealthy people love about Westchester County and their own little corner of it. Guy responds by saying Westchester isn't his favorite place to live. He prefers San Francisco.

My outrage at this comment causes me to stop listening to their conversation and start thinking. How can this be? Does the cretin not understand that many of the country's finest schools are in Westchester? Has he not experienced the great dining, beach access, and incredible forested views? Is he somehow unaware that Manhattan is just minutes away and yet each village in Westchester is its own unique, quaint, small town? Once I get over my disbelief I write the guy off as loony. He's clearly been drinking despite the early hour. I turn up my music and resume deleting email.

Not until an hour or so later did I recall that for years I've told people I would love to live in California. Just days ago I said I'd work in San Francisco in a heartbeat if doing so didn't require me to wake up at 3:30am. And yet my first reaction to hearing someone express preference for the City by the Bay over Westchester County was to assume he was mentally incapacitated.

Am I a New Yorker? If so, when did I become one?