the wh connection

so…when i get back to JFK, heading through customs, it turns out that my customs agent grew up 4 blocks from my apartment building (he knows this because my entry form states my home address) and immediately strikes up a lengthy conversation with me about the neighborhood.  it’s funny…i’m a white female american citizen, so i generally don’t really have to worry about being harassed by customs officers (i do realize what a privilege this is) so they are generally congenial to me, but (and this HAS happened before) when they see i live in the city, and ESPECIALLY when they notice that i live in washington heights, a neighborhood that a lot of the agents seem to hail from, they immediately start to smile and get really really nice – and then start to have a real ‘neighborhood’ conversation with me…i get “welcome home”, and questions about exactly what the neighborhood is like now, because most of the agents i’ve talked to have since moved away and don’t get back often.  it’s an amazing thing, and kind of hard to convey how nice and yet weird it is for the first person that you talk to when getting home to be so excited that you’re from the same place…

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2 Responses to “the wh connection”

  1. ok, that would completely creep me out. Not only that but I’d have to-HAVE TO- say something dumb like…oh, yeah, that restaurant in Wash Heights is still there. The fried chicken is better than the crack cocaine I have stuffed up my wazoo right now. But I gotta tell ya, you heat it up right and my crack cocaine could totally rival their burgers at least.
    On another topic entirely: when am I gonna get my hands on those lovely phone booth pics, girlfriend?
    It was so good to see you. Next, Egypt?

  2. …And then I saw the flickr link. ha.ha.haaa.um. should I be paying to get more education? I mean, let’s evaluate…has the stuff I’ve already received done the job? these are good questions- oh cool, Amanda with a chicken!

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