the tourist bashing trap

i'm kind of over all of the tourist bashing that is so prevalent amongst the denizens of this city, especially at this time of year. yeah sure, i myself have sort of engaged in the same shooting fish in a barrel sport on occasions, but only when i felt certain injustices were being blatantly perpetrated upon me/us, such as when my dear local starbucks has been defiled by eurotrash while the line is being held up by the unfortunate souls for whom deciphering a starbucks menu is akin to reading the mandarin translation of war and peace.

there was a story in the weds. ny post pertaining to the onslaught of tourist season in nyc. sort of a survival guide for locals. the piece was filled with many of the predictable cliches regarding new york city tourists.

"areas like Rockefeller Center or Fifth Avenue, where out-of-towners stroll, be-fannypacked, holding hands and walking four-abreast across the street. They shuffle down the sidewalk, stopping midstride to gawk upward and point . . . at what, we have no idea."

the article was accompanied by this photo of models posing as local tourists...



yeah, yeah, yeah, tourists are slow, often rotund and haven't lived here long enough to understand that the sidewalks are our freeways. we get it. but how many among us can say that we were never tourists to this city, specifically manhattan?

i don't have any census data to back this up, but i'd bet my left nut that less than 5% of the residents of manhattan that reside below 96th street were actually born and raised here. and let's face it, when tourists come to this city they're coming to see manhattan below 96th street. i don't think that i've ever heard of anyone coming here looking to explore the wondrous wilds of staten island or the bronx. so that tells me that most of the incessant bitching about people coming from other places to experience the wonders of this town are being done by people who have come from other places to experience the wonders of this town, albeit on a more permanent basis.

???

how soon we forget when it was we who were once the ones gawking up towards the sky in amazement, the ones walking very deliberately down the sidewalk with stars in our eyes, the ones smiling at each and every stranger we passed on the street, the ones actually initiating conversations with people on the subway.

personally, i kind of like it. when given the chance i enjoy stopping to ask people where they're from, what they plan on doing while they're here and what do they think of the city? it's actually quite refreshing. seeing the city through the eyes of others helps to remind me of all the things that i saw and felt when i first came here. in a way it's actually quite revitalizing. when you live here for a while you do, unfortunately, become stereotypically jaded. you take for granted the things that make this city what it is.

one of the happiest times of my life was during the holiday season of 2003 when i had family visit me here for the first time since my arrival. to be able to show them parts of the new york that they only knew through movies and other popular lore was great, but to get to show them MY new york, the historic neighborhood in which i lived, which at the time was the still semi-gritty lower east side, the quaint cafe where i got my coffee every morning pre-starbucks, the pizzeria where i went for late night slices served by a short, chubby italian man named sal, the arab deli at the corner that i would often call to have a sandwich and a soft drink delivered to my door at 4am, the bar where i drank copious amounts of alcohol while watching my beloved saints and LSU tigers with fellow louisiana transplants, the chinese laundry across the street that would pickup, wash and fold my laundry and return it to me within 3 hours for 5 bucks, was simply a most splendid time in my life.

i can also remember when a guy wearing a suit muttered "move your asses" as he proceeded to almost barrel one of them over as he was trying to get out of the stairway and how i felt so compelled to chase him down and punch him in his big, stupid face for doing so.

so all i'm asking, all i plea really, is that if you're reading this and you just so happen to reside in manhattan right now that you try to remember these times in your own life, even when you might be rushing to get to a meeting or a dinner or a movie, whatever, as you go about the course of your normal life. i'm occasionally guilty of it too. i often have to stop and check myself. simply taking a second to eavesdrop on one of their conversations will often suffice.

"wow mom! look, it's the empire state building!"

i find that such a thing is often kryptonite to the unintentional black-hearted facade of even the most jaded, asshole new yorker.


god bless america(especially new york city!)

where even the daughter of a former president and possible future one is forced to sit on the floor at starbucks...


via daily intelligencer via jezebel


"what do i gotta do here?"

hey remember that dude that busted into one of hillary clinton's campaign offices last week and took everyone hostage? well, guess what...he was only hoping that a police sharpshooter would take him out! the ny daily news had an interesting exclusive interview with the kook yesterday...

Leeland Eisenberg never imagined he'd shuffle into a prison visitors' room and give an interview days after taking hostages at Hillary Clinton's campaign office.

He thought he would be dead.

In fact, he ate a "last supper" at Fat Tony's Italian Grill on Main St. in Rochester, N.H., before crossing the street, bursting into the office and telling the seven people inside to hit the floor because he had a bomb.

"I had what I called my last supper. I had a rum and Coke and spaghetti and sausage," Eisenberg told the Daily News Tuesday in an exclusive interview.

And then, he said, he waited to die.

"I didn't surrender," said Eisenberg, 46, of Somersworth, N.H., adding that he hoped police would kill him in the standoff.

"I knew once the last hostage went out the door, there would be no reason for them to have restraint. I could see the sharp-shooter. He was all dressed in camouflage, and he had one of those laser lights on his rifle.

"I didn't have my hands up or nothing. I just walked toward the door, thinking, 'This is it, he'll take me out.' So I swing the door open, and he still didn't shoot me, and I'm like, 'What do I gotta do here?'

"My intent was never to hurt anyone. My intent was actually almost like a suicide by cop," he said. "But I wanted to make a message first."

read the whole astonishing thing here...

ny daily news story on leeland eisenberg


the district sleeps alone tonight by the postal service

there's something to be said for walking down the street on a cold winter night with the snow blowing in your face as this song plays in your ears...



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