On my way home for spring break, I searched the crowded train frantically for an empty seat, my heavy bags weighing me down, awkwardly trying to keep all of my possessions together. As I searched, I saw an open seat across from two mothers animatedly chatting with one another. As I got closer and started to overhear their conversation, I realized that these were no ordinary moms. No, these were Long Island Moms, a statement that anyone from Long Island would immediately understand.
As I sat down, I took out my phone and contentedly listened to their conversation, one of which would only take place on Long Island. “Did you hear about my cousin’s sister’s girlfriend’s daughter whose husband just had a triple bypass?”, one woman questioned the other.
She paused, presumably collecting her thoughts, and reiterated, “A triple bypass! But I mean he’s lost so much weight that now his cheeks sag because he used to be so fat, and I told my girlfriend he should go to that new gym my husband and I joined…” I nodded to myself. This seemed about right and was a Long Island mom staple.
They somehow knew everything about everyone, even the people most distantly related or connected to them in some way. No matter how vaguely related they were to those people, their strong opinions did not waver. The two mom’s conversation continued, occasionally punctuated by a loud “Whaat,” with the “a” sound extremely drawn out.
Other people looked over, but I didn’t even bother to flinch. Yet another Long Island mom staple, the extremely loud “what”, typically followed by a statement such as the one I overheard, “Whaat? I’m telling you right now if Patty is going, then count me out! Did you know she thinks I’m in love with her husband?”
As the two moms continued on with their conversation, I realized just how much I had missed Long Island, and how it really is a unique kind of person that lives on Long Island. I reflected on how my college friends would most definitely feel out of place overhearing this conversation, and would laugh at its absurd nature. I was definitely laughing to myself, but not because the conversation was foreign to me. Rather, it was due to the fact that the conversation was so natural, something that you would overhear while on Long Island.
The conversation started up again. “I told him to come pick me up, but did you know he almost crashed into the DMV during his driver’s test? Should I use that Uber app? I told him to tell me how to use the Uber app! He’s going to kill me, his poor mother!” The other woman nodded in sympathy, and began to recite her own story about how her son was “driving her up the wall”, as well. I ducked my head and smiled again. Of course, their sons made their way into the conversation. This was precisely the reason that I felt so comfortable sitting so close to these random women.
Long Island moms care about their children more than anything else, and would do just about anything for them. I knew that they would let me sit across from them without a problem before I even sat down, just like how I knew as soon as they left the train some sort of conversation about me would ensue.
“That nice girl sitting across the train, you know who she reminds me of? Remember Tommy’s cousin’s brother’s ex-girlfriend? Now that was a good girl, did you know now he’s married to Teresa’s brother’s old co-worker, and the mother goes to my hair salon?”
As the train finally arrived at my station, I sighed in contentment. I was home at last, and couldn’t think of a more appropriate welcome than the two, wonderfully stereotypical Long Island moms.