NYC Day 15 - Road Trip: the NYC Edition
Monday, 30 May 2005 - It shouldn't have happened, but it did. It shouldn't have lasted all day and night, but it did. And it made all the difference. Today, my Memorial Day weekend plans went out the window when I decided to join my host and his friends on a road trip through the outer boroughs of New York City. This was made possible by a lovely coursemate of his—-a bona fide New Yorker, no less—-who rented a quaint little car and left the destinations entirely up to us.
With U2's How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb pumping on the stereo, we travelled across the Brooklyn Bridge to Brooklyn, down to Coney Island and Brighton Beach, across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge to Staten Island, to Hoboken and Weehawken in New Jersey, then back up Manhattan, winding from Battery Park through the lower part of the island (Wall Street, Chinatown and Little Italy, Greenwich Village, Chelsea, SoHo, the Meatpacking District) and finally to my host's apartment at Riverside Drive.
This trip provided the perfect closure to my already-amazing two weeks here, during which I covered most of midtown and lower Manhattan on foot (which is many ways is the definitive face of NYC). It allowed me to take in a much larger view, giving me an appreciation of the different characters of the outer boroughs and a neighbouring state, as well as the lay of the land, all with a running commentary to boot.
Our first major stop was at Coney Island, which is essentially the classic American waterfront fairground: boardwalks, hot dog stalls, thrill rides, flea markets and all manner of visitors united only by their slow, easy gaits. Walking out to the pier with the others, there was no doubt that summer had finally begun: if it wasn’t the dry warmth on our skin, then it was small spectacle of a mile of beach packed with sunbathers. And, of course, the hundreds of people with us on the pier doing nothing but staring out into the clear expanse of the sea.
We then drove past Russian (Brighton) and Middle Eastern enclaves before stopping at Park Slope for lunch. In its sparse, low-rise, suburban character, Brooklyn is a far cry from Manhattan, though it shares the island's ineffable American-ness--a quality I recognise from a childhood diet of American television. Maybe it was the ubiquitous brownstones; maybe it was the parking meters; maybe it was the grafitti on the walls where the children played ball; I don't know. But I felt it.
Our next destination, Staten Island, is sometimes referred to in the guidebooks as "the forgotten borough". It's easy to see why: from a car window, the place appears entirely residential. Rows of charming little houses run for miles and there's hardly a soul on the streets. It is, apparently, the whitest and most Republican of the five boroughs, and the residence of most of Manhattan's police officers.
Fascinating as it was, around this time I started getting restless. Nevertheless, the decision was made to push on to New Jersey, and I am glad for it. Driving through, as our guide put it, the state of "highways and strip malls", we circled for yonks before finding the exit into Hoboken, and eventually the county of Weehawken, or as I'd prefer to call it, the small place with a f***ing big view.
Overlooking the Hudson River, Weehawken offers a jaw-dropping panorama of the WHOLE OF MANHATTAN's West Side all the way from Washington Heights to Wall Street. See the photo above? That covers something like 20 streets (the two tallest buildings, one of which is the Empire State, are on 40-something and 34th Street respectively). Imagine a panorama of EIGHT TO NINE TIMES what you see here, in life-sized glory, shimmering in the glow of sunset, and you'll come a little closer to what I experienced. This is, without a doubt, the greatest skyline on earth. No single postcard or conventional photograph can contain this view, and I never knew brick-and-mortar could be this breathtaking.
As I stood there gazing into the concrete fortress that is Manhattan, I imagined myself running through its grid-like streets in the last two weeks, darting between the skyscrapers I now apprehended with a single glance. This, I thought, this is where I've been.
We took our shameless share of photographs against the backdrop and headed back to Manhattan. Again, the heady memories of the last two weeks came swirling back as I recognised all the streets I'd traversed by foot. At this point, it finally occurred to me just how small the island is. As great a city as NYC is, it is all the greater for packing so much into so little.
Around nine, we stopped by a roadside kebab stall for a cheap dinner, where there was an incident with a rather deranged and disshevelled woman. She came up to my host, asking him to buy her a bottle of water. Being a nice guy, he obliged, only to have her begin a tirade against the likes of the kebab vendor for taking away the jobs and money of Americans. She let on that a Pakistani cab driver had made off with her luggage, leaving her stranded and penniless. "I worked my ass off for years putting computers together, earning millions for this nation. What does this guy do?" she asked, gesturing at the vendor as he folded our chicken gyros. "Hey, do the cops get any free food today?" she asked him. "It's a f***ing holiday you know, it's Memorial Day." When the vendor remained politely oblivious, she hollered "he's smiling because he knows I'M RIGHT", and went on insulting foreign labour till our New Yorker friend had to retort.
Friend: "Look, much of what you're saying sounds racist and offends me; I'm not talking to you."
Madwoman: "Hey! you're an American too, aren't you going to stick up for me?"
Friend: "Not if you continue to talk like that."
Eventually, the woman backed off, but not without getting in the last word, or should I say, last 500 words, by which time she was virtually screaming. Downright offensive as it was, I must say the incident was more amusing than it was disturbing. We weren't sure if the woman was truthful about her misfortune, but even if she was, I guess it's just as well that it happened to her since it shows her up for the monster she is. After all, people have gotten up from harder falls without blaming or hating others.
So there you have it: an eye-opening, breath-taking insider spin through the Big Apple in a day, and an encouter with one of its dubious denizens in the night. There hasn't been a better day here; there couldn't be better people to spend it with; and there couldn't have been a better way to finish it off than by heading back to my friend's apartment, logging on to the NUS student intranet and finding out that I've graduated with First Class Honours.
With U2's How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb pumping on the stereo, we travelled across the Brooklyn Bridge to Brooklyn, down to Coney Island and Brighton Beach, across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge to Staten Island, to Hoboken and Weehawken in New Jersey, then back up Manhattan, winding from Battery Park through the lower part of the island (Wall Street, Chinatown and Little Italy, Greenwich Village, Chelsea, SoHo, the Meatpacking District) and finally to my host's apartment at Riverside Drive.
This trip provided the perfect closure to my already-amazing two weeks here, during which I covered most of midtown and lower Manhattan on foot (which is many ways is the definitive face of NYC). It allowed me to take in a much larger view, giving me an appreciation of the different characters of the outer boroughs and a neighbouring state, as well as the lay of the land, all with a running commentary to boot.
Our first major stop was at Coney Island, which is essentially the classic American waterfront fairground: boardwalks, hot dog stalls, thrill rides, flea markets and all manner of visitors united only by their slow, easy gaits. Walking out to the pier with the others, there was no doubt that summer had finally begun: if it wasn’t the dry warmth on our skin, then it was small spectacle of a mile of beach packed with sunbathers. And, of course, the hundreds of people with us on the pier doing nothing but staring out into the clear expanse of the sea.
We then drove past Russian (Brighton) and Middle Eastern enclaves before stopping at Park Slope for lunch. In its sparse, low-rise, suburban character, Brooklyn is a far cry from Manhattan, though it shares the island's ineffable American-ness--a quality I recognise from a childhood diet of American television. Maybe it was the ubiquitous brownstones; maybe it was the parking meters; maybe it was the grafitti on the walls where the children played ball; I don't know. But I felt it.
Our next destination, Staten Island, is sometimes referred to in the guidebooks as "the forgotten borough". It's easy to see why: from a car window, the place appears entirely residential. Rows of charming little houses run for miles and there's hardly a soul on the streets. It is, apparently, the whitest and most Republican of the five boroughs, and the residence of most of Manhattan's police officers.
Fascinating as it was, around this time I started getting restless. Nevertheless, the decision was made to push on to New Jersey, and I am glad for it. Driving through, as our guide put it, the state of "highways and strip malls", we circled for yonks before finding the exit into Hoboken, and eventually the county of Weehawken, or as I'd prefer to call it, the small place with a f***ing big view.
Overlooking the Hudson River, Weehawken offers a jaw-dropping panorama of the WHOLE OF MANHATTAN's West Side all the way from Washington Heights to Wall Street. See the photo above? That covers something like 20 streets (the two tallest buildings, one of which is the Empire State, are on 40-something and 34th Street respectively). Imagine a panorama of EIGHT TO NINE TIMES what you see here, in life-sized glory, shimmering in the glow of sunset, and you'll come a little closer to what I experienced. This is, without a doubt, the greatest skyline on earth. No single postcard or conventional photograph can contain this view, and I never knew brick-and-mortar could be this breathtaking.
As I stood there gazing into the concrete fortress that is Manhattan, I imagined myself running through its grid-like streets in the last two weeks, darting between the skyscrapers I now apprehended with a single glance. This, I thought, this is where I've been.
We took our shameless share of photographs against the backdrop and headed back to Manhattan. Again, the heady memories of the last two weeks came swirling back as I recognised all the streets I'd traversed by foot. At this point, it finally occurred to me just how small the island is. As great a city as NYC is, it is all the greater for packing so much into so little.
Around nine, we stopped by a roadside kebab stall for a cheap dinner, where there was an incident with a rather deranged and disshevelled woman. She came up to my host, asking him to buy her a bottle of water. Being a nice guy, he obliged, only to have her begin a tirade against the likes of the kebab vendor for taking away the jobs and money of Americans. She let on that a Pakistani cab driver had made off with her luggage, leaving her stranded and penniless. "I worked my ass off for years putting computers together, earning millions for this nation. What does this guy do?" she asked, gesturing at the vendor as he folded our chicken gyros. "Hey, do the cops get any free food today?" she asked him. "It's a f***ing holiday you know, it's Memorial Day." When the vendor remained politely oblivious, she hollered "he's smiling because he knows I'M RIGHT", and went on insulting foreign labour till our New Yorker friend had to retort.
Friend: "Look, much of what you're saying sounds racist and offends me; I'm not talking to you."
Madwoman: "Hey! you're an American too, aren't you going to stick up for me?"
Friend: "Not if you continue to talk like that."
Eventually, the woman backed off, but not without getting in the last word, or should I say, last 500 words, by which time she was virtually screaming. Downright offensive as it was, I must say the incident was more amusing than it was disturbing. We weren't sure if the woman was truthful about her misfortune, but even if she was, I guess it's just as well that it happened to her since it shows her up for the monster she is. After all, people have gotten up from harder falls without blaming or hating others.
So there you have it: an eye-opening, breath-taking insider spin through the Big Apple in a day, and an encouter with one of its dubious denizens in the night. There hasn't been a better day here; there couldn't be better people to spend it with; and there couldn't have been a better way to finish it off than by heading back to my friend's apartment, logging on to the NUS student intranet and finding out that I've graduated with First Class Honours.
posted by The Empty Signifier @ 5/31/2005 02:48:00 pm
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