Opinions

Flashback to September 24, 2008. After being so sick that I passed out on the airplane the night before, I made it to my Einstein interview in the morning, shaky and lightheaded from illness and lack of food but less nervous than I thought I would have been, probably because I was too busy thinking about not passing out again. I sat down in the second floor conference room with Dr. Dannis, who paged through my application, squinted, looked up at me and said, "You're from Minnesota. What the hell are you doing here?" I can't think of a less expected opening question for an interview, much less a medical school interview, much less my first medical school interview. Despite my surprise, I apparently answered this and all of the remaining questions satisfactorily, because here I sit in my apartment in the student housing at Einstein, procrastinating from my anatomy studying.

Fast forward to this afternoon. I had an appointment with Dr. Wollowitz, an orthopedist. He recognized my address as the Einstein student housing and asked what year I am. I told him that I'm a first year, and that we're gearing up for our anatomy final in a week. He made a disapproving grunt and said that anatomy is "useless; they make you remember all those useless pancreaticoduodenal arteries and the like." I laughed and said that all those arteries were exactly what I was having trouble with. I suppose you don't need to know which arteries supply the stomach when your primary concern is bones. Then he asked where I'm from. I told him Rochester, Minnesota, after which he asked, "What the hell are you doing here?" This time, I can't say I was expecting it, and I can't say I wasn't surprised, but I wasn't quite as shocked as last time.

What is it with these New Yorkers? I thought they were proud to death of their city, and that any location not touching an ocean was too worthless to even be able to recognize on a map. Maybe it's the Bronx. Maybe it's self-preservation. Maybe they just think all of us Midwesterners are sheltered, that we shudder at the thought of lights and crowds and traffic and endless motion. To them, the Midwest is a blob of homogeneity; how can we even break out of our shell? Maybe, though, I'm not giving them enough credit. Maybe they recognize the virtues of honest Midwest living and, despite their love of their city, simply cannot understand how we could adapt to a place like this. Either way, they sure have a funny way of showing it!