The great thing about living in New York City is that you can feel like you are one in a million. And the shitty thing about living in New York City is being reminded that you are one in a million. Just like the city doesn't care when you're on top of the world. It doesn't care when you're down and out either.
It reminds you of that when you're walking along the sidewalk, holding your side in pain but trying not to look obviously distressed, and pedestrians bump into you left and right because wherever they are rushing to go is too important to step a foot out of the way. I can't judge; I'm guilty of it, too.
It reminds you of that when you leave the doctor's office, forget your book in Duane Reade on 34th and Park while waiting for prescription medicine and realize it when you get to Grand Central, return to get your book only to have your Unlimited MetroCard still flash "Just Used" in the turnstile, and the mean Asian/Polynesian/Indian (he could be anything, just like me) MTA employee in the uptown side of the no. 6 station at Park and 33rd doesn't care how sick you are: "Your MTA card has four more minutes before you can go through the turnstile, ma'am," he says through the glass over his little microphone.
It reminds you of that when you are referred to a specialist for additional testing and the specialist's earliest available appointment is a few weeks out.
The world doesn't revolve around you in this city unless you are rich or famous or both. And even then, they have to balance carefully because Page Six will make it entertainment when the "elite" fall. It's one of the things I dislike about New York ... but what keeps me here are the 10 reasons I love it for every one reason I don't.
So you stick it out and live to be a New Yorker another day.