August 06, 2006

Arrival, JFK, 8 a.m. Overcast, muggy as shit. Everyone is smoking. Waiting for a bus to take me into Manhattan, and no schedule is posted. Will you wait for 10 minutes or forty? Cab driver who doesn't want to drive back into town empty pulls up and focuses his crooked smile me, the most prosperous-looking of the people waiting for the bus because of my theory that you should always travel in a formal jacket because you can throw in on top of anything and look fancy at night. His smile says, "Come on, man, the bus? The fucking bus? You? Come the fuck on, man!"

Me: Okay, how much?
Him: How much you want to pay?
Me (displaying my native Midwestern knack for bargaining): Fifteen. Twenty?
Him: Come on!
Me (climbing in): Well, the bus isn't that cheap anyway.
Him: Bus! Chsssushh! (A dismissive sound from deep in his throat.)

1. They all smoke
   They smoke comfortably sitting in the sunshine, like old advertisements for smoking. They smoke while talking and laughing and looking at their friends with great appreciation for whatever witticism or gossip their friends, who are also smoking, happen to be uttering at the time.

2. Their public access TV is better than ours
   I replaced the dead batteries in the remote control in my room at the Chelsea Star Hotel, one of two ways I left the room better than I found it. I also left four Henekens in the fridge. A large black man wearing only a ski mask appeared to me while I was drunkenly surfing the channels using my own batteries, and he said unto me, "If I see one more white woman in a pants suit saying, 'I want to represent New York' ..."
         He also said, as part of a tirade against rap music, "Not that I'm Stanley Crouch or William Bennett—and, by the way, ladies, did you notice how I know those names?—but these fucking niggers are rapping about who's a better crack dealer!"
         I wrote this cat's name down. It's Shamus Black. (Incidentally, the other day my friend Porter Hall asked me a very penetrating question: "When did dudes stop being cats and start being dogs?")

3. They are friendly
   Except when they seem to be grumpy, like when they're the cashier at the all-night drugstore and you are buying a stick of Old Spice Original Scent, but even then at the last minute they smile and call you honey.
         What people think is unfriendliness is usually a deeply ingrained desire to not waste a single second. Because they're in a huury, hurry, hurry! So there are exchanges like this:

   Some guy: You want to hear a story?
   Really fucking hot bartender: How long is it?

   Not "fuck off," or, if the guy had said this to a bartender in Seattle, a seemingly agreeable response that would mask a profound passive-aggressive contempt and translate roughly as, "Are you my new DVDs from Netflix? Then why are you speaking to me?"

4. They sometimes seem like big dumb animals
   They sail unhelmeted on bicycles through busy intersections, because they are so important and are going important places in a big, fucking important hurry. The manic pace they pride themselves on won't allow them to so much as stand on the curb for thirty seconds. Faced with a crosswalk across six roaring lanes of traffic, they will take a few steps into the street, right into the path of a fucking truck. It's not going to get them there any faster, it's just a conditioned insectlike behavior that will do nothing more than increase their chances of getting killed. My NYC friend Josh Goldman assures me that many people die this way every week.
         By the way, there are not coin lockers anywhere anymore, which is not surprising, but here is something that did surprise me: When I asked a bus station girl in Boston if there were any coin lockers, she didn't even know what a coin locker was.
   
   
   
   Index of past entries

   02-13-2007 Stop comparing things to punk rock 12-31-2006 But we climb the stairs everyday 12-28-2006 Accidentally Famous Dullard Best Known for Pardoning Crook Healed Nation, Nation Told by Media 11-07-2006 Down for the Dem ladies 10-03-2006 Why you don't want to watch a DVD with me after I've smoked marijuana, which I regularly get from Alfred Hoffington, of 8722 18th Ave NE, Seattle, WA, 98103 08-20-2006 Does your trash can need batteries? 08-06-2006 Four generalizations about New Yorkers 05-21-2006 Muriel Spark 04-22-2006 Maya Lin: Don't touch the particle board 03-26-2006 My version of bible education 03-08-2006 Dental surgery with the oldies 02-16-2006 Junkie brother in China 02-02-2006 True, shameful story 01-02-2006 Rough start to the year 12-26-2005 That Narnia movie 10-31-2005 Plamegate metaphor of the day, from Tim Dempsey 09-17-2005 Another question and follow-up question from my daughter 09-01-2005 Real American hero 08-24-2005 This just happened 08-18-2005 Morning bus tale 08-01-2005 A question, and a follow-up question, from my five-year-old daughter 07-25-2005 A biker who hates bikers 07-11-2005 Great news for Star Wars fans 06-28-2005 The invaluableness of gay eyewear 06-16-2005 Viva Le Robbie Fulks 06-09-2005 Angry Dale Chihuly dealers 05-26-2005 WTF is an up or down vote? 05-18-2005 Sweet Isabella Carbonell 04-25-2005 MoMA and the Mob 04-05-2005 The world mourns. Not. The Daily Hammer Archive