Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Streets Alive!

Another number crunching moment from The Apple:
There are almost 2 million people in Manhattan, an island 23.7 sq miles in area, which works out to about 300 sq ft per person…and that would explain the size of my apartment. Fat chance of claiming your personal space at the moment though. It’s that time of year again – they call it “holiday season” here - the glittery red, green and gold month between Thanksgiving and Christmas when the sidewalks in midtown are swarming with shoppers flown in from all over the country - and even all over the world. What always catches me a little off-guard is when you see a bemused tourist rotating a map to orientate themselves in the street who then asks you for directions in an American accent. I bemuse them back with my English accent and confident, usually incorrect, set of directions. Obviously you can have American tourists in America, I just haven't managed to get my head around the concept yet.

Lost visitors and busy streets aside, this really is a time to get into the spirit of things. Window displays were going into shops on Fifth Avenue yesterday and the masses seemed genuinely excited – there was actually a roped off area along one store front as a separation between pedestrians and gawkers, Christmas trees are sprouting in key locations and as soon as the big one in Rockefeller Plaza goes up then we’ll be well and truly into the season. There’s no more quintessential Christmas sight than skaters gliding around the rink under that tree or in Central Park.

It’s one of the many things they get right over here: the “event”, granted it may be taken as going over the top sometimes but there's no half-arsing, it's either all or nothing. The parades are a good example. I don't remember a whole lot of parading going on back home, maybe the odd fete with a few floats when the village wanted to celebrate something, there's the Notting Hill Carnival once a year in London, and the Lord Mayor's Show - other than that we're not really a nation of street partiers. Don't start writing-in Morris Dancers. What you do is more "scary" than "party". But here there seems to be a parade for everything: President's Day, Martin Luther King Day, Puerto Rican Day, St Patrick's Day, Greek Independence Day, Memorial Day, Cuban Day... I could be here all Day.

Halloween was a crazy night. I've never witnessed anything like it before, the city was like a cross between a Tim Burton movie and a kid's fancy dress party and practically the whole city had got involved. There were ghouls, ghosts and walking pumpkins at every turn but then amongst these were superheros, members of The Village People and Star Wars characters. I saw someone dressed as a MySpace web page, a road traffic cone, cowboys, indians, Indians, Sponge Bob, Elton John - that might actually have been Elton come to think of it - there were even dogs in costume. Basically it was just a big excuse for everyone to get dressed up and eat lots of sweets. Maybe it is a bit too much but I love the fact that people celebrate. They get out there on the streets, they make an effort, they commit to something. If it takes "Random Day Parade" to get that done then so be it. It unites the city and that's some achievement in one of the most diverse places on earth.

Of course tomorrow's another big one - Thanksgiving. That's more than enough reason for another parade. It also sees the handful of pardoned turkeys around the country asking, “Hey, where’d everyone go?” You’ll find out next year my feathered friends…in the meantime eat up that grain and enjoy the extra living space.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Endure No More

So I wrote that last post a week ago on my way out of town. Last night I came back and was walking through the airport thinking, "Maybe I gave this place a hard time. OK, so there aren't that many shops, it lacks character and the henge-like seating wouldn't look out of place on Salisbury Plain but it's bright, airy and there's a big colourful mural in the arrivals hall. Perhaps I should amend my thoughts."

Having positively zipped through the immigration formalities and with disembarkation to suitcase retrieval being posted in record time there was just the little matter of Customs to go.

I mentioned the U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) pledges previously; I had a closer look at the poster last night:

  • We pledge to cordially greet and welcome you to the United States
  • We pledge to treat you with courtesy, dignity, and respect
  • ...and on it goes; you get the point
So, can someone please explain the following to me? There we all were, travellers and trolleys, queued and funneling our way through one of the three open customs check-points and dutifully handing over our white customs cards. Suddenly, down the side of our queue, rushes a middle-aged lady looking very flustered and accompanied by a uniformed assistant from one of the check-in desks. They reach the front, the lady holding out her card apologising to the rest of us in very broken English.
“Sorry, so sorry! My card?” She says holding out her form for the official.
“You’re not getting in there lady, get to the back of the queue like everyone else,” the official shoots back at her while continuing his retrieval of cards from the rest of us.
“I sorry. My flight! My flight!” With which she pulls out a plane ticket while the assistant she’s with tries to explain that this lady’s flight arrived late and that she’s rushing to make a connection.
“I don’t give a damn. Get to the back,” he continues.

It would have taken a second to let her through – anyone with a modicum of common sense could see that it was an extraordinary circumstance and no one would have begrudged that act of discretion. Instead the torment was stretched out a little more.
“I show you ticket? Here is ticket for flight,” the lady fumbled trying to convince the official who wasn’t even looking at her now. She then started crying.
Finally looking back at her he answers: “Lady, I don’t give a sh*t. Get the f*ck outta here!” Word for word, that was his response in front of her, me, kids and dozens of others.

They can pledge all they like, those CBP promises aren’t worth the paper they’re written on, and having found the Supervisor on duty that night to point this out I then sent him in the direction of the abusive officer…
Make a stand folks.