Serenity Now.

Oh I'd say it's easy to forget that the world doesn't, in fact, revolve around you once you've been living in this city for a while. I wasn't surprised really when this study came out last week that New Yorkers are some of the most stressed out folks in America. It’s the economy (stupid), but it’s also the commutes and the people and the rents (too damn high). The list goes on. I mean sure, we've chosen this lifestyle, but then again, what does that say about us?

It was an early morning and I was tired after getting under three hours of sleep the night before and I managed, somehow, to get out of the office long enough to run next door to Starbucks for coffee on a day when I knew there wasn't enough coffee in all of the city to get me through it. I knew right away when I walked in that something was off. It was quiet and the line was much too long, and (horror of horrors), it wasn't moving. At all. I saw a few people shake their heads and throw their arms up in exasperation and then walk out. Places to go people to see, man. I tried to remain patient and inched forward for what felt like an eternity. In my attempt to keep my eyes open as I stood there, I looked around and saw an ambulance pull up outside. That’s interesting, I thought. And then I saw the medics pull out a big white shiny gurney and start to frantically move in my direction. Very interesting.

It was then that I put two and two together (I'm extra slow without caffeine before 9AM), and they pushed by me and this long line of sleepy impatient New Yorkers and made their way to the back of the store. Before long I saw that they were actually in the process of picking up a barista off the floor and strapping him into their little contraption. His face was red, his blond hair matted down with sweat, and I knew I was supposed to look away but couldn't. And then it happened. It bubbled up from my stomach to my aching head, and there was nothing I could do to stop it: Of course, I thought. Unbelievable. Of all the mornings for some guy to pass out in Starbucks it had to be today at this exact moment, didn’t it?

I immediately hated myself.

But that's the thing, was it even really me? The reaction I had was automatic, an almost subconscious response, the kind of response I've been trained to have especially living here in this city of endless inconveniences. All I wanted was a Grande bold. Just seconds earlier that was the biggest problem of my day so far (well, I mean, I guess), and now here I was watching this young little barista who made one too many café latte's that morning getting taken to the hospital. He just couldn't take it anymore. Passed right out. Extra hot, no whip, decaf? I'm done with this, he thought. Call 911.

After they wheeled him out I did eventually get my coffee, but it felt wrong standing there adding the cream and then walking out with it on my own two healthy feet (surely karma was going to drop a piano on me as soon as I got outside, right?). When did I get like this? When did we all get like this? We're stressed, yes, but there has to be a middle ground somewhere between being annoyed at someone’s extreme misfortune and calling the paramedics because of it. I vowed then and there to make a change and attempt to see the world and the people in it differently, because maybe I'd been looking at it the wrong way for a while now. Who knows who this guy was back there whipping up foam and espresso, and where he'd come from and what he's been dealing with. Who was I to be so quick with my impatience for just a cup of coffee? Have a little understanding, have a little faith.

75% of us are stressed, according to this survey by The American Psychological Association, compared to 65% nationally. Apparently we eat too much and are unhappy with our jobs and we’ve yet to really reach a “Network” moment (I’m mad as hell…etc. etc.). What’s going on in the rest of the country that’s so great? Who knows, but my first thought was that I bet there aren’t many people walking around getting upset with their coffee provider while he’s en route to the emergency room. Maybe in New York we get so used to praying at the alter of being-on-the-go-all-of-the-time (we never sleep, right?) that we’ve been sleepwalking right through our lives, ignoring everyone around us and chalking them up to just one more thing we have to deal with, one more thing to make us stressed. And we don’t need one more thing to make us stressed. We know that.

So tomorrow everything changes, the way I order my coffee, the way I address that person standing at the top of the stairs of the subway looking at their Blackberry, the way I react to my credit card bill….maybe then my blood pressure will drop and I’ll feel better, happier, more mellow. Who knows, maybe then the people around me will start to change, too. And we can change! That concept won the vote in 2008 and heck, New York (and life) is based around the one certain fact that things will forever be constantly changing.

We need to accept that, yes, however also there is the unavoidable knowledge that in a city with lots of open windows looming above us with every step we take, one really never can tell when those pianos are going to start to fall. I figure it can't hurt to be prepared.