Everything's more edgy in New York City, including the possible ways there are to croak. Here in Gotham, no one just plotzes and calls it quits. That would be boring. No, New Yorkers die just like they lived—extravagantly, with personality, and with a tiny hint of menace to make things more interesting. As a character in Cirque Du Soleil's Paramour says, “New York is so exciting. There's so many ways to die." And no, I didn't die watching Paramour. Here are the 10 most New Yorky ways to face that final curtain:
*You go to a Meat Packing District club and plant yourself on a banquette specifically reserved for those who order wildly overpriced bottle service. You only want a diet soda. The manager approaches you, fuming. Your life is over.
*You go to meet a Grindr hookup who claimed he was single, visiting the city, and looking for some hot sex. You'd said something similar. You open the hotel room door and it's your boyfriend. One of you is going to die. Maybe both.
*You walk by Chick-fil-A and get crushed by scores of bibles being thrown at you. You could have saved your ass by renouncing your identity and actually going into the place, but then you probably would have choked on some rancid chicken. At least some hot porn photos mysteriously fell out of the bibles, so you scoop them up and run, only to get hit in the head with a flying drumstick. Ciao, baby.
*You moved to Bushwick years ago, but now it's super trendy and fabulous and everybody wants in. Desperate to get you out of there and jack up the rent, your landlord greets you one morning with a blowtorch.
*You saunter into your neighborhood mom-and-pop deli to get some Doritos and a lottery ticket. While standing there, you notice a wrecking ball swinging through the window, knocking you dead before you even get to find out if your ticket was a winner. It turns out the place is converting into a bank and/or chain restaurant. You're lucky you won't be around to suffer the horrid gentrification.
*You go to the opera for the first time in a decade. You die of boredom. No one even notices because they died of boredom too. When the primadonna gets no applause at the end, she thinks, "Well, at least no one booed." She starts to toddle off the stage, and then
she dies of boredom. One remaining stagehand—the only survivor—boos.
*Costco has a sale on Quinoa. You die in the mad crush, and you didn't even want Quinoa. You were reaching for some Clorox Wipes.
*You're riding your bike when a rat pops out of a grating like in a horror movie. You frantically skid away from the scene and end up in traffic, where you and your bike are summarily run over by an uber. The rat scurries over to gnaw at your corpse, then gives up because he's vegan.
*You're on the platform, waiting for an L train to go back to Brooklyn. Whenever one comes, it's at overflow capacity and you can't even stick a foot in it. Twenty trains later, you're starving and spot a piece of pizza laying on the stairway. You fight with a deranged pigeon over it and get Hitchcocked to death. The bird is joined by the above-mentioned rat, who's jumped ship and suddenly doesn't mind some pepperoni. As you pass into the afterlife, a lovely, empty train pulls in. Oh, well.
*You score a ticket for
Hamilton by mortgaging your house and selling your grandmother into slavery. It's a ticket for 2018, when Joey Fatone will be playing the leading role, but still it's Hamilton. As you enter the theater, you pull out your ticket, only to be bopped over the head by one of the show's stars wielding an award. They need the ticket for a visiting relative!
There's also the horror of being someone who happens to wear a burka and has to go to Trump Towers. And quite seriously, there's all the other hideous racial profiling that goes on. When it comes to the illogical rush to extinguish certain lives, NYC can be just as bad as everywhere else. But wait, this was supposed to be a humor piece. Don't kill me!