Sunday
Aug012010
It's My Nature
Sunday, August 1, 2010 at 6:25AM
A woman called. “I’m interested in going to Ellis Island. I know you give an excellent tour, but what I really need is to be in the beginning of the ferry line. Can you do it?” “Yes, I can." I replied. “But first let me shoot you in your kneecap, so you may join the disabled.” She gasped and I finished with, “Before God and the Department of the Interior, we’re all equal.”
With a single click, the line went dead.
We were traveling south, paralleling the Hudson River. I was mentioning the miles of navigable water, concluding with "this city’s geography created its destiny." Suddenly, the man-in-charge, jumped up. “Who cares about that. Tell them about the water towers on the roofs, over there.” I said, “You tell them that, since you're the one who's so interested." "Hey" he replied. "I'm the one who paid you." "Hey," I answered back, "I’m the one you hired to do the tour."
That day was the last I saw of him.
I was with middle school children. Everyone’s head was down, text messaging. “Hi.” I began, talking loud. “I’m your tour guide, here to give you a tour.” No one looked at me. I increased my volume and said “sperm.” All heads snapped up. An adult spoke. “Please refrain from all sexual allusions. This is a school trip.” I responded, “There's nothing I'm going to say that these kids haven't heard on that TV show, The Simpsons. Besides, get with the program. We're in New York. No one censures anyone here."
She told me I was wild.
Holding the itinerary I had just gotten for my tour, I read these few lines, “View Statue of Liberty from land, shop in Saks Fifth Avenue, and photograph the Apollo’s Theater Walk of Fame on 125th Street." I turned to the travel agent. "I can't do all this." "But you must. I promised" she replied. "That's why you're here, to make it all happen." "Look" I reasoned. "I've never mastered sleight of hand. I can't make the traffic disappear, nor reroute the St. Patrick’s Day Parade off of Fifth Avenue."
"You tell them." she pleaded. "I can't." So I did, with, "You’re all adults. You know daily living brings with it disappointments. So let's get our groans over with, and begin our tour."
The travel agent called me “callous.”
On a walking tour of Chelsea, a participant talked nonstop for many minutes into her cell phone. I had to say, “Unless you’re talking to the repair man for your kidney dialysis machine, please hang up.” She was startled. I continued, “Others may want to hear what I have to say, though you apparently do not."
She did not give me a tip.
Before I started my narration, on a sidewheeler leaving the pier, a woman approached. “I really would like to listen to you, but I can't. My friend is here and I want to talk to her. Do you have a tape of what you’re going to say? ”I told her, “No. I do not. Even if I did, it would be a sham. I never know what I am going to say."
She left in a huff.
I was with employees of Prudential Insurance, going to a cocktail party, inside their unfinished corporate tower at South Street Seaport. As we drew close, I said, “This polished gray granite façade, with these small windows, gives the building a prison-like feel.” A diminutive fellow, screeched, “I am a VP. If you knew how much money we spent on this, you’d never say what you did?” "Oh yes I would" I countered. "I know money does not bring taste."
He rode back to the hotel on a different coach.
In front of me were overweight teenagers, spending a summer day in New York, a trip sponsored by their upstate weight loss camp. Yet wherever we went, all they did was buy cookies. I reminded them of their battle with their pounds and assured them they would leave FATTER today than when they arrived; they reported me for using that word.
May be if I grew up in the West, when it was wild, when everyday people shot off their guns, and not their mouths, I would have developed differently, especially with the invention of the "silencer." Maybe if I lived in the South, with a mamma who reminded me daily, "Mind your manners” I would have never heard, “Being with you is like being with a live nerve ending.” Maybe if I lived where there were few people, I would have refrained speaking my mind, desperate for friends, never wanting to offend.
This, though, was not the case.
One incident in my childhood foretold my future. My mother asked me to make my bed. I told her, "It's a waste of energy. I'm only going to get back in there later."
She stood there in the door frame, with lips pursed. Then she said, "I see your point" and turned and left.
(If you enjoyed this post, please send the link to like-minded readers. I welcome new subscribers.)
With a single click, the line went dead.
We were traveling south, paralleling the Hudson River. I was mentioning the miles of navigable water, concluding with "this city’s geography created its destiny." Suddenly, the man-in-charge, jumped up. “Who cares about that. Tell them about the water towers on the roofs, over there.” I said, “You tell them that, since you're the one who's so interested." "Hey" he replied. "I'm the one who paid you." "Hey," I answered back, "I’m the one you hired to do the tour."
That day was the last I saw of him.
I was with middle school children. Everyone’s head was down, text messaging. “Hi.” I began, talking loud. “I’m your tour guide, here to give you a tour.” No one looked at me. I increased my volume and said “sperm.” All heads snapped up. An adult spoke. “Please refrain from all sexual allusions. This is a school trip.” I responded, “There's nothing I'm going to say that these kids haven't heard on that TV show, The Simpsons. Besides, get with the program. We're in New York. No one censures anyone here."
She told me I was wild.
Holding the itinerary I had just gotten for my tour, I read these few lines, “View Statue of Liberty from land, shop in Saks Fifth Avenue, and photograph the Apollo’s Theater Walk of Fame on 125th Street." I turned to the travel agent. "I can't do all this." "But you must. I promised" she replied. "That's why you're here, to make it all happen." "Look" I reasoned. "I've never mastered sleight of hand. I can't make the traffic disappear, nor reroute the St. Patrick’s Day Parade off of Fifth Avenue."
"You tell them." she pleaded. "I can't." So I did, with, "You’re all adults. You know daily living brings with it disappointments. So let's get our groans over with, and begin our tour."
The travel agent called me “callous.”
On a walking tour of Chelsea, a participant talked nonstop for many minutes into her cell phone. I had to say, “Unless you’re talking to the repair man for your kidney dialysis machine, please hang up.” She was startled. I continued, “Others may want to hear what I have to say, though you apparently do not."
She did not give me a tip.
Before I started my narration, on a sidewheeler leaving the pier, a woman approached. “I really would like to listen to you, but I can't. My friend is here and I want to talk to her. Do you have a tape of what you’re going to say? ”I told her, “No. I do not. Even if I did, it would be a sham. I never know what I am going to say."
She left in a huff.
I was with employees of Prudential Insurance, going to a cocktail party, inside their unfinished corporate tower at South Street Seaport. As we drew close, I said, “This polished gray granite façade, with these small windows, gives the building a prison-like feel.” A diminutive fellow, screeched, “I am a VP. If you knew how much money we spent on this, you’d never say what you did?” "Oh yes I would" I countered. "I know money does not bring taste."
He rode back to the hotel on a different coach.
In front of me were overweight teenagers, spending a summer day in New York, a trip sponsored by their upstate weight loss camp. Yet wherever we went, all they did was buy cookies. I reminded them of their battle with their pounds and assured them they would leave FATTER today than when they arrived; they reported me for using that word.
May be if I grew up in the West, when it was wild, when everyday people shot off their guns, and not their mouths, I would have developed differently, especially with the invention of the "silencer." Maybe if I lived in the South, with a mamma who reminded me daily, "Mind your manners” I would have never heard, “Being with you is like being with a live nerve ending.” Maybe if I lived where there were few people, I would have refrained speaking my mind, desperate for friends, never wanting to offend.
This, though, was not the case.
One incident in my childhood foretold my future. My mother asked me to make my bed. I told her, "It's a waste of energy. I'm only going to get back in there later."
She stood there in the door frame, with lips pursed. Then she said, "I see your point" and turned and left.
(If you enjoyed this post, please send the link to like-minded readers. I welcome new subscribers.)
Reader Comments (15)
I think we are friends beacuse we both say what others wish they had the guts to say. You go, girl!
Many decades ago during the era of Communist control over Eastern Europe I visited Poland with my parents. That day the three of us were the only guests on a State-operated tour of the ancient salt mine in Wieliczka, Poland. The guide spoke in Polish, of course, and my mother who was fluent in the language, translated for me, with the guide pausing after each paragraph to allow time for the translation. All went well until the very end of the tour, when the very nice guide was apparently required to recite a bunch of Party-line propaganda about how the workers were liberated, blah blah. My mother, in the same manner and intonations as though she were still translating, told us, "She's just giving the propaganda lessons. I guess the tour is over. I want to stop in the gift shop before we leave. ..." and she went on in this manner with more comments of her own musings after each of the guide's pauses. Finally the guide finished and led us back to the exit. My mother tipped the guide, rather generously since we were the only guests. The guide gave us a big smile and said, in perfect English, "Thank you so much for visiting us. I hope you will enjoy the rest of your visit to Poland."
Coming from a small town you were refreshing and oh so funny. You were the trip! The kids are still talking about how bold you were and your funny sense of humor and that's over six years ago. Don't change a thing!
Your mother was right.....You Go Girl.
Jane, above all you are courageous. You speak the truth, and many people can't handle it. Loved this post.
Aren't people funny?
To act affronted when someone is honest enough
to speak the truth implies that the truth-speaker
is the problem. Just attack the honest person and the recipient of said truthfulness is immediately the victim who requires everyone's support.
Oh please---you eat too many cookies you get fat!
You're to cheap to pay for your own tour but somehow
the guide is to blame when she protects her clients' investment?
I am reminded of Jack Nicholson in "A Few Good Men."
"You can't handle the truth!"
That's not Jane's fault!
As per the gun analogy:
Forget the silencer. Blast away and let the
smoke clear as it may!
Don't stop speaking your mind. They're not paying you to agree with their worldview; you are hired to expand their horizons. I also have spoken my mind, but the gigs stopped coming for a long while. Seeing your work, and seeing that you keep getting more, gives me hope.
On a double-decker turning from Broad onto Wall, a middle-aged man in a cowboy hat said, "Can ya show us what the Jews own, boy?"
"First off, sir, this bus is owned by Chayim Grant. Thanks for your twenty dollars."
Dear Jane,
Those experiences are oh so interesting, especially when you know they really happenend. Having been on about 15 tours with you I know you are the best and the most important thing is that you give your clients a real taste of New York.
Please keep giving that experience to all who can handle it!!!!!
It's good to have someone tell tourists how foolish they really look when they ask the guide to change the weather or make a bus move at super-sonic speed. (Also highly entertaining reading!) I take the more traditional tack -- trying to clean up itineraries in advance, avoiding confrontational language, apologizing for the weather gods (as if anyone came to New York for the climate!). They still don't tip me.
I swear they should do a sitcom on TV and use you as inspiration!
Hi! Jane,
The first time I met you, was on my 2nd or 3rd trip to NYC in a charter bus. I remember sitting at the wheel taking in your every direction, for me, as well as your commentary to the passengers! The kids always loved you, most of the parents! I must admit, on that first tour, most of the time my was spent, jaw dropped to my knees, loving your comedy, your answers to their questions, as well as all your information about the city and indeed for your truthfullness! I was hooked!! Every time a NYC trip came up, I'd jump on it! Especially if your were to be our guide, if not I could almost always count on seeing you at some point during the trip, usually by Central Park, corner of 72nd! I definitely looked forward seeing you!
You were very kind to me as a novice driver in the city, offered good tips on getting thru town, I remember one time you took me down this very narrow street and actually got out pushing car mirrors in for me... I miss those trips and seeing you a few times every spring, however, now I am able share much of it with you thru this blog, I enjoy the hell out reading these, thanks!
Loved your blog! You've still got it!
ditto, to all i've said before. i look forward to seeing your name on my inbox..........then i know i can relax for 5 minutes & have a good laugh. especially loved the nerve ending statement. as a live wire myself, i can relate to others reactions to getting right to the bottom line. refreshing. thanks jane.
Here it is September and I'm just getting to emails of a month ago! I loved "it's my nature" on August 1. I also loved the comments from other folks and their appreciation of your direct, non-nonsense style and your ability to nail "stuffed shirts." If you offend folks, it's clearly their problem. I love your being my friend! I also just got "Thinking of You" from July 20 -- loved the photo. Only you could pull off wearing that hat!
Hi Jane...Just like Ruth, I've saved every blog entry and am finally returned from 'tripping' to now have time to savor them . I really liked this one because I've experienced both the professional and personal side of you...and I love them both. You have an intrinsic warm nature and those who offend you (or others) are...offensive. I'm sure others on your tours are grateful for your candid-ness (is that legal word???). You couldn't change is if you wanted to , thank goodness!