Well, I made it to the Big Apple and back in one piece.
I didn't get rolled, I wasn't bamboozled and I never got lost
in the subway system -- mainly because I never actually used
the subway system. One must choose one's battles.
Speaking of choosing, it would be impossible to relate a
complete travelogue of my New York odyssey, so I will simply
recount some random impressions gathered when this common
little country mouse visited the gaudy bauble of Manhattan.
Arriving at Grand Central Terminal and being struck by
the fact that it is indeed grand. The soaring ceilings, the
classic architecture -- and all those people! I climbed some
stairs and looked down at the bustle and mused that it most
resembled an ant hill which had been stirred. People scurried
hither and yon like angry ants, each on their own mission,
none ever pausing in the midst of the apparent chaos.
Striding out onto the streets of Manhattan for the first
time and immediately becoming disoriented. The towering
skyscrapers block a clear view of the sun, negating my sense
of direction. I walk off in search of the Empire State
Building and soon find myself at the United Nations
headquarters. I repeat the mantra I have adopted for this
journey: "There are no mistakes, only happy accidents."
It appears that taxis comprise about half of all wheeled
traffic in Manhattan. Cab drivers have strong opinions and
express them freely with their horns. I had been advised to
avoid taking a taxi as the fare is determined via a formula
similar to that which is used to find the terminal velocity
of a falling object. Cab fares are often so high that riders
are obliged to sign their houses over to the cabbie. This may
have something to do with the homeless problem.
Arriving at Fifth Avenue and being stopped by a gay
pride march. Seeing some wildly weird outfits, including a
bunch of black leather and a profusion of pink feathers. "I
bet these guys don't shop at Penny's," I think. A nearby
gruff, burly New Yorker summed up the New York attitude
toward this spectacle, saying, "Man, aren't you glad you
don't have to walk on high heels all day like that?"
Finally making it to the Empire State Building where I
discover that one doesn't simply hop on an elevator and ride
to the top. One must first stand in line for tickets, then
stand in line for an elevator to the 80th floor, then stand
in line for an elevator to ascend the last six floors. This
takes some time, but is well worth it. Not so much for the
view (which is spectacular), but for the chance to at last
get my bearings. The four sides of the building are clearly
marked with the cardinal directions which, combined with the
sweeping vista of the city, finally allows me to get the lay
of the land. And no, I saw no residue from King Kong's visit.
Walking down the street and hearing a cacophony of
exotic, indecipherable languages. I heard French, Spanish,
Russian, Japanese, Hindi and Bronx. The Bronx tongue was the
most intriguing as it seems to have originated from some
long-forgotten form of English.
Walking down the street and smelling a cacophony of
food. In just a few blocks a person can revel in the scent of
victuals hailing from France, Spain, Russia, Japan, India,
the West Indies, central Jamaica and on and on.
Walking down the street and finding that New Yorkers are
surprisingly friendly. There are people offering to save you
big money on designer purses and shoes, people handing out
coupons to save you big money at local eateries and people
proffering pamphlets which will save your soul via a close
personal relationship with Jesus, or Muhammad, or Buddha.
Pedestrians in New York view the "walk/ don't walk"
signs as mild suggestions; jaywalking is rampant. A true New
Yorker waits at the crosswalk as close as possible to passing
traffic; tires roar past mere inches from toes.
If the skyscrapers are the walls of New York's concrete
canyons, the pedestrians are the foaming rivers coursing
through their depths. Sometimes you feel like a salmon
swimming valiantly upstream, sometimes you feel like a feeble
guppy being swept along by the current. This tumultuous river
of humanity constantly crackles with an electric dynamism.
All in all, my Manhattan trip was a very educational
experience. I was exposed to a lot of intriguing languages
(including "Joisey") and gawked at lot of exotic sights. Why,
I even managed to catch a glimpse of Dick Cheney's motorcade.
He was riding in his own car, though. I guess even the
vice president can't afford the price of a New York taxi.
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