Lillian Ross, a writer for The New Yorker in the 1940s and 1950s, looked at the apartment building across the street from where she lived and wrote that she and saw…”children are jumping on a bed in one apartment; in another, a fat black woman in a white uniform is sitting in a window, smoking a cigar; in still another, a middle-aged man in tights is doing aerobics in front of a television screen.”
This normalcy of the eccentric is what keeps New York so radically interesting. So ordinary if you live there [only the tourist would take a selfie or perhaps not even notice in favor of something iconic].
New York has its eccentric smells too. The moldy, ghost-ridden smell that comes up so strongly through the subway grates, which you hardly smell in the actual subway. [That smells like grated steel, food, and people, on top of mold]. There's the papery, elevator-oil smell of the small office buildings with their tiny 2-person elevators. The luxurious smells of the long-term, large department stores. And all over New York, you smell food.
There are eccentric noises - the interminable, unnecessary honking all day, the constant high-pitched screeching of truck brakes, car alarms, the yelling of workers, and the din of shuffling feet, talking, music, etc.
The weekends feel lonely because a lot of the sensory overload is dimmed - a lot of the pushy passion missing - but retains the same level of frustration. Streets are closed somewhere in Manhattan for parades, street fairs, or protests [altho protests can create havoc during the week too]. Traffic is just a smidgen less congested, but there is always work on the subways so that at least one train - the one you need - is not running. The MTA will neglect to post signs letting you know that train is not working, allowing you to figure that out after 45 minutes or so of waiting.
The MTA is not your friend. Are there no sidewalks! Do you not have legs!
During the week the trains run, but not necessarily on time because there are "incidents" which will get announced, and there are passengers that hold the doors for their friends. One conductor on the "N" train will not tolerate any slowdown and shuts the doors a few seconds after they are opened - his attempt to hurry things along - and if you get slammed by one of the doors it's like being hit with a brick.
Ah, the City.
New York has its eccentric smells too. The moldy, ghost-ridden smell that comes up so strongly through the subway grates, which you hardly smell in the actual subway. [That smells like grated steel, food, and people, on top of mold]. There's the papery, elevator-oil smell of the small office buildings with their tiny 2-person elevators. The luxurious smells of the long-term, large department stores. And all over New York, you smell food.
There are eccentric noises - the interminable, unnecessary honking all day, the constant high-pitched screeching of truck brakes, car alarms, the yelling of workers, and the din of shuffling feet, talking, music, etc.
The weekends feel lonely because a lot of the sensory overload is dimmed - a lot of the pushy passion missing - but retains the same level of frustration. Streets are closed somewhere in Manhattan for parades, street fairs, or protests [altho protests can create havoc during the week too]. Traffic is just a smidgen less congested, but there is always work on the subways so that at least one train - the one you need - is not running. The MTA will neglect to post signs letting you know that train is not working, allowing you to figure that out after 45 minutes or so of waiting.
The MTA is not your friend. Are there no sidewalks! Do you not have legs!
During the week the trains run, but not necessarily on time because there are "incidents" which will get announced, and there are passengers that hold the doors for their friends. One conductor on the "N" train will not tolerate any slowdown and shuts the doors a few seconds after they are opened - his attempt to hurry things along - and if you get slammed by one of the doors it's like being hit with a brick.
Ah, the City.
