Okay, let’s put this little series to rest.

In my earlier posts, I’ve written about several of my first time young adult experiences, many of which happened here in New York. There’s eating and drinking, as well as more drinking and clubbing and stuff like that. But what truly defines city life aren’t these “events” but day to day living. Hence, the following.

The first time I got mugged. Okay, so I didn’t really get mugged. My bag did get lifted though. I was at South Street Seaport eating in the food court when I turned my back for JUST A SEC. Then it was gone. Too bad my friend who was sitting across from me and had eyeshot of the whole thing was too clueless to notice.

The first time I gave money to a homeless person. It’s been a very long time since I’ve given money to the homeless, cynic that I’ve become. Also since Giuliani there are far fewer homeless on the streets, or at least it appears that way. But back in college the homeless were aplenty as well as my feelings of liberal guilt.

The first time I spared some change was to the singing shuffling guy who stood on various corners near my school. He seemed to be blind in at least one eye and would stand bent over, shuffling his feet in some sort of weird homeless-person dance, singing incomprehensibly, and jingling his coffee cup full of change like a tambourine.

There were regular other homeless people too - the guy who stood near the market and called me racist names the one time I didn’t give him money, a woman who hung around the bank and called anyone who didn’t give her enough “evil,” another guy who always told the same story of being “just released” from the hospital and needing money to get home - but almost-blind, shuffling guy was my favorite, mostly cuz he didn’t yell.

The first time I paid tax on clothes. Growing up in New Jersey, I was spoiled with tax-less shopping sprees. Buying a dress at Macy’s was an eye-opener. But that still didn’t stop me from shopping.

The first time I got lost on the subway. Totally embarrassing. My friend and I were trying to go to Bloomingdale’s, got on the uptown train by mistake, and ended up in Spanish Harlem. Yes, two spoiled suburban girls walking cluelessly around Spanish Harlem at night.

My first protest. Okay, so not exactly an everyday occurrence, but because I have OCD tendencies, I must have five examples.

Back in school like I said, I was all bleeding heart, so how better to express that than to participate in a Miss Saigon protest?

In case you don’t know, Miss Saigon is a musical set in Vietnam about a Vietnamese prostitute who falls in love with one of her Johns, has a baby by him, and believes that he’ll return for her. Apparently the show is also known as Miss Clueless and Asian Woman Who Gives the Rest of Us a Bad Name.

(Of course I hadn’t even seen the show at that time so what did I know? I’ve since seen it and I have one word: snore-o-rama. But I still think the main character, Kim - that’s right, Kim, a typical Vietnamese name - is a know-nothing twit.)

Also, years ago, the producers had white actors playing the Asian parts, saying there were no qualified Asian actors out there.

The protest had all the usual trappings: signage, marching, yelling. But you wanna know the real reason I went? I had a huge crush on one of the ringleaders and I wanted him to think I was cool.

My First Delusion too.