October 22, 2007 - Receipt #4 - New York City Rhythm

October 22, 2007 - Receipt #4 - New York City Rhythm

In the Chronicle of our four days in New York last May documented in receipts, we picked up our fourth of the day—it’s Saturday May 14th—at the Shubert Theatre (sic—New Yorkers spell the word in the British form) at 225 West 44th Street: two tickets to Monty Python’s Spamalot for the May 18, 2007 8:00 PM performance. The tickets showed that the Internet transaction was completed at 12:48 PM on May 18th, charged to an American Express card belonging to me—the sales clerk printed the tickets after we arrived and I showed my card.

To reach the Shubert Theatre we had made our way through the throng of humanity swarming about Times Square. I use the terms “throng” and “swarm” to describe the tens of thousands of people who populated the collection of blocks between 48th Street to the north and 42nd Street to the south and 9th Avenue on the west and 7th Avenue—including Broadway the transverse boulevard that disturbs the orderly Manhattan Midtown street grid of north-south avenues and east-west streets—on the east. There is an kinetic energy that permeates the crowds that collect at intersections waiting for the light to change and grant them right of way. And when the red light changes to green there is a surge as that pent up force is released and given freedom to move.

Contributing to that intensity of purpose that pedestrians in large cities, in general, and Manhattan, in particular, possess is the constant sounds of a teaming metropolitan center. The noise of accelerating cars and buses, the strain of brakes pulling these vehicles up short, the blare of horns exhorting the slow, the timid, the lost, to move. And there is the constant rhythm of human voices straining to be heard over the turned up volume of the city: some exhorting others to climb aboard a bus, enter a shop, purchase goods of indeterminate origin; others calling to one another encouraging them to come this way, look at that, hurry up…; others yelling into cell phones while straining to hear the response… And there are the recorded sounds of rock music blaring from stores, recorded voices of talking heads looking out earnestly from television screens.

As most all major metropolitan areas, New York has become a tourist theme park. This was clearly punctuated by the tour buses lining Broadway—their conductors urging the stream of pedestrians to board their conveyances for tours of every piece of the city’s real estate that has some view-worthy site. Tours cater to the reluctance each of us has to decide what to do, especially when you’re on vacation and want a respite from decision making. Tours satisfy the pressing need to be doing something on your time off so you don’t feel guilty about wasting time. And there is no better proof of this than the London-model double-decker tour buses packed with humanity—young, old, and every age in between: those on the uncovered upper deck clothed in foul weather gear as insurance against the menacing grey sky that spat periodically to maintain its threat.

All about the intersections at and around Time Square, every available piece of building surface space is covered with huge electronic displays filled with animated commercial messages to influence the teaming multitude below, all of it looping continuous. Buildings not covered with displays are painted over with huge print ads, the entire two faces of one building painted in bright red with an ad for Target. Panning a full 360 degrees in Times Square at 45th and Broadway, the whole area appears beset by gangs of pin stripped hoods who have tagged every bit of visible space with their gangs’ graffiti. No one walking though this part of the city would have any doubt about who owns what.