New Yorkers don’t let strangers wear ugly dresses.

DOING LINES
As New Yorkers, we spend a lot of time on lines. So how cool are we with cutters when it’s “urgent”? At Pinkberry and Magnolia Bakery, people gave me the green light when I told them I was late for a train. At the Bryant Park post office, the line was 20 people deep, but Pankaj, 50, let me in. Starbucks was the toughest nut to crack—not a single person was sympathetic to my pleas. “You’ve got a meeting to catch? Join the club,” said Kim, 33. “I can’t let you cut this line; I need my caffeine,” said Simon, 40. After hitting up five outposts, it was clear I wasn’t gonna get between any Yanks and their Frappucinos.

UNZIPPED
At Macy’s in Herald Square, I grabbed the frilliest, funkiest prom dresses I could find and told strangers, “I’m going to see my ex-boyfriend at a party tomorrow night! Can you help me pick out an outfit?” Elena and Ivonne, both 20, nodded in unison. And after ten dresses, they were still offering their advice. “I like the white one the best,” said Elena, reaching to try on the same one. Sandy, 42, was honest in her evaluations (“That one makes you look like a giant teardrop!”), but only made it through three dress rehearsals: “I just came here to return something, but good luck.” I headed to the swimsuit department next. “What do you think of this?” I asked Michelle, 55, about a Tila Tequila-esque number with cutouts in all the wrong places. “I don’t think it complements your figure,” she whispered, pinching my love handles. “Sometimes a one-piece suit is the most flattering.” Ouch!

DATE FROM HELL
“Hi, you don’t know me, but I’m on a date with this guy from Match.com and he’s horrible! Can you save me?” I begged Kenny, 35, on Houston Street. After laughing, Kenny rang my cell to tell me he was “dying.” Surprisingly, every New Yorker I asked was willing to call or text me so I could escape my crappy date, but two people earned MVP honors. In Hell’s Kitchen, Santino, 14, rang me up in Ta Cocina restaurant: “It’s your brother and a cab just hit me! I’m over at St. Luke’s–Roosevelt Hospital. I need you now,” he cried. Dang, homeboy needs a role on Guiding Light! Later, my pal Dashiell and I snuck into the Waverly Inn to drink overpriced cocktails. In the bathroom, I hit up 24-year-old Natasha: “I’m having drinks with a really lame dude. Do you mind interrupting so I can leave?” Shortly after, Natasha sashayed up to us, grabbed my arm and squealed, “Alexis, I can’t believe you’re here! Listen, your cousin isn’t doing well. You need to call her—like, tonight.” Natasha was a worse actor than anyone on The Hills, but she gets an A for effort.

Conclusion: You can’t disrupt New Yorkers’ coffee breaks, but when it comes to dating dilemmas, they’ll be there for you like a BFF.

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