Jerry, Jerry everywhere

In five days living in New York, I’ve already experienced a number of profound, earth-shattering realizations – if you walk out in front of a car the traffic will actually cede to you, rather than run you straight over (maybe don’t try this one at home); you’ll get a lot further if you ask for the “check” at the end of a meal than the “bill”; and there really is a method to the madness of the subway map. These New York realizations are beautiful things, small moments of achievement and satisfaction in a city here the big moments of frustration and desperation come at you hard and fast.

The most profound, earth-shattering of these realizations, so far – although I find it hard to imagine that anything, ever, will top it – came to me when I was standing in a sweaty subway car coming home from work last night, and Jerry Seinfeld walked in and sat next to me. Okay , it wasn’t the real life Jerry Seinfeld, but rather a near-identical embodiment of his fictional self, complete with scuffed New Balance sneakers; baggy, slightly-faded jeans worn just a tad too high;  shirt, jumper and coat both too big and at the same time failing to conceal the slight middle-aged paunch; a generously receding hairline, and a New York Times in hand. As I looked this man up and down, the various thoughts running through my head – “what, are joggers and jeans like some kind of New York uniform?” “who IS this man, and who is he MARRIED to?” “I never knew there were so many shades of navy and black” – were eventually drowned out by one clear, over-powering fact: in New York, this Jerry Seinfeld doppelganger is everywhere. He is in every subway, in every deli, lining up for coffee and bagels and hot dogs and cigarettes at every street van on every street. He is walking with his wife in the park and fighting with the attendant at the post office at and talking baseball with another guy just like him at a bus stop and picking up apples and bananas at Trader Joes. He has no discernible fashion sense, sexual orientation, religion, or job. His ethnicity is undetectable; you could only really describe it as “New York”.

And then came the profound, earth-shattering realization – Jerry Seinfeld is everyman! The Seinfeld writers did not, as I had previously believed, invent a character full of quirks and nuances, a unique individual so bizarre in his mannerisms, appearance and habits that he couldn’t possibly exist in real life! No! They designed a character that is a tribute to every man just like him in New York; so full of quirks and nuances, so bizarre that he exists in every man in this city. All of them, each and every one of them, are a little bit Jerry. The Seinfeld writers have created a historical chronicle of our times; a cultural portrait of a man who is none of us, but at the same time, all of us.

This does NOT bode well for my dating life…