The Impression That I Get

Here's the second of a couple more post-NYC thoughts. (The first one is linked here).

That is a picture I took on my walk Friday morning to New York Public Library. In fact, the shadowy building in the right of the photo is the New York Public Library. I got to the there around 800, and found out that they open at 1100. The walk was uneventful, aside from it being cold and windy, and I only had a light jacket on, thinking the harsh Minnesota winter had hardened me against the relative mildness of 40 degrees. Turns out I was wrong.

But on the walk through the bustling streets of Manhattan, I was trying to get an impression of the city. You hear about how New York is different from other places, or whatever, but it's really not that big of a deal. I mean, the only real difference I could tell about this place from Chicago is that the streets are narrower, the cabbies are omniprescient and loose with their horn, and there are scores of street vendors (the only vendor food I tried was some honey-roasted almonds from a guy in Central Park...they weren't that good). And, they have all of those in Chicago, they just have many, many more of them in New York.

I don't want to say I didn't like the place, because I did, I especially loved the museums (more on those later) and the ability to move around without being hasseled (except in Chinatown where they swarm you trying to push their knockoff or stolen wares onto you). The street performers were pretty talented (I liked the mariachi band, complete with stand-up bass, that leapt onto a subway train I was riding and there was a violinist at the Lexington station that had some chops). The food was great, and the ability to experience anything you want was interesting. But I wasn't wowed by the place either.

Everything I did seemed to cost twenty dollars. It was dirty (piles of garbage bags lined some of the streets...and once while walking back to the hotel I was behind a man walking two labradors, and a sheet of paper blew by, and one of the labs chomped on it and started to eat it without even so much as sniffing it), and it was hampered by construction and congestion. Oh, and I got to see my first legit tweaking crackhead on my way back from Central Park Saturday morning (I accidentally made eye contact with him, but he was too busy cracking out to notice or ask for change).

The best thing I can say about New York is that it was nice enough. Not exactly a glittering promiseland, and not exactly a mug-fueled stabopolis. I'd love to go back sometime...but only if it's warmer.

Viva el mustache

ps...yes, I am aware that the title is a reference to a Mighty Mighty Bosstones song, and they are from Boston