The buzz in New York City is palpable as soon as you exit a
tunnel from New Jersey and enter Manhattan. The skyscrapers are
– as Donald Trump would say –
”
uuuge,
”
the cockroaches are slightly smaller than the squirrels, and the
people move at a frantic pace that can sweep you up and carry you
three blocks before you know it.
The buzz in New York City is palpable as soon as you exit a tunnel from New Jersey and enter Manhattan. The skyscrapers are – as Donald Trump would say – “uuuge,” the cockroaches are slightly smaller than the squirrels, and the people move at a frantic pace that can sweep you up and carry you three blocks before you know it.
My family and I recently returned from a two-week East Coast trip that included stints in The Big Apple and Washington, D.C. And because I pooh-poohed global warming in a recent column, Mother Nature decided that New York would set temperature records during my visit. But it didn’t slow me down.
I love driving into San Francisco because the skyline seems to poke up from nowhere and often disappears into the fog. The buildings in Manhattan, however, are true skyscrapers.
Cruising into town in a cab, we were awestruck as we gazed up at buildings that didn’t seem to have a top. Coming from a town where a parking garage is the tallest building, I was impressed. My kids were nothing short of amazed.
New York is the centerpiece of dozens of TV shows and movies, but a flickering image on a screen doesn’t do it justice. You have to feel the place to truly appreciate it. Like in any large city, there are odd smells – like the ones coming from the bicycle cab driver who showed us the sights of Times Square. And you know how the song says, “The neon lights are bright on Broadway?” It’s true.
It feels like high noon any time of the day as the electronic news tickers relay the day’s headlines and a 50-foot billboard of Puff Daddy shines down on the tourists.
The city is so full of action that it’s hard to process it all.
There were hot dog vendors on nearly every corner – but I saved that delicacy for another trip. Cabs honk more than a flock of geese during mating season and people move with efficiency, not rudely as much as purposefully.
Among our memorable New York moments:
n A waiter named “Puawl” (Paul) asked whether I wanted “suaw-sage” (sausage) on my pizza. Classic.
n A waitress asked us if we wanted “wooder” (water) with our meal. I wonder if she noticed our, like, total California accents. For sure.
n I spotted Rupert Jee, whose Hello Deli is famous because of Jee’s numerous appearances on the “Late Show with David Letterman.”
n While we were on a double-decker bus tour, my wife swears she saw Michael Imperioli, who plays Christopher Moltisanti on “The Sopranos,” as we rolled through Greenwich Village.
n In Times Square we spotted the famous Naked Cowboy, who wore his trademark white hat, white boots, and tighty-whitey underwear as he posed for pictures with tourists. (We videoed the action from a safe distance.)
n We walked by Jackie O’s apartment and passed the spot where John Lennon was shot.
n We took a boat to The Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, drove by The Apollo theater, caught a game at Yankee Stadium, saw “Mama Mia” on Broadway and walked into Trump Tower. The Donald was nowhere to be found, but his picture was everywhere.
n We shopped at the world’s largest Macy’s, rode the elevator to the top of the Empire State Building, and gazed with reverence at the void where the Twin Towers once stood.
n I also got my journalistic kicks out of spotting the headquarters of The Village Voice and The New York Times.
East Coasters tend to dismiss West Coasters as vapid or shallow or ditzy while we call them rude or stuffy. The New Yorkers we encountered were nothing but nice to us – probably because they charged us an arm and a leg to eat and sleep there, or maybe because they didn’t know we were Californians.
All I can say, in my best Left Coast vernacular, is that the trip was, like, totally, you know, hella cool and I’d recommend it to anyone.
Adam Breen teaches journalism and yearbook at San Benito High School. He is former editor of The Free Lance.
