Tag Archive for: New York City

Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs

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by Bethany Maines

Anddddd… we’re back from NYC! After a week long trip to the
Big Apple where we sampled the food, the night life, the culture and of course,
the shopping, I realized that I may possibly be the only vactioner who includes
signs as part of my list of tourist attractions. I’m not talking the big
important monuments, I’m talking about the little tragedies of government
signage or the er… “modifications” that have occurred to everyday signs.
As I back-tracked through the subway to capture this beauty
about the Essex Street subway stop, I received strange looks from locals and my
friends a like. Personally, I think this sign “correction” shows a flare of
genius! The sign artist had to capitalize on the multitude of “wet paint” signs
that were at a previous stop and apply them to the Essex St. sign without
getting caught by the MTA employees and without committing the cardinal New
York sin – getting in the way of people trying to get on the subway.
The Essex St. sign is second only to the series of
masterpieces I captured while on honeymoon in the Virgin Islands. The Dip
Series showed not only a one-time creativity, but the extended oeuvre of the
artist. And while the Dip Series artist might not have been faced the threat of
law enforcement the way the Essex St. artist was, his/her odds of getting run
over were much higher.
A second category of sign that I much appreciate is what I
term “unintentional art.” It’s a category exemplified by this little gem
discovered in Brooklyn. Yes, that’s a New York City Department of Environmental
Protection truck, and yes, it wants “Gasoline Only.”  Because gasoline is what environmental protection is all
about, right?
Then there’s this classic from a previous trip to New York.
Yup, that electrically lit sign is indeed telling you that it’s conserving
electricity.

So as we march through life looking for the
next “important” thing to look at, I think it’s also imperative to remember the
advice I once got from my mother as I pushed a pull door – “Stop and read the
sign.”

Traveling in the Spicoli Way

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by Bethany Maines
Next week I will be making, what is turning out to be an
annual pilgrimage to New York City to visit my editor and watch a friend
graduate from Columbia (Goooo… Lions?). When I started this whole writing thing
I specifically targeted LA agents because I thought it would be a heck of a lot
easier to fly from the Evergreen State to the Golden State. I was absolutely
correct, of course – travel out to the Empire State (that’s your nickname New
York, seriously?) kind of bites, particularly since some dude invented the shoe
bomb. Or the Underwear Bomb.  Next
thing you know there’ll be the Hair Bomber and we’ll all have to shave. And I
swear the 3oz liquid debacle is fully sponsored by the water vendors on the
other side of security, but that is beside the point.
The point is that I didn’t want an agent in New York, but
Fate, as per its usual modus operandi, had other plans and now mocks me with
every trip to the East Coast. Which isn’t to say I don’t heart my agent with
big googly eyes (little hearts going pwap! over my head), and I’m not extremely
grateful to be able to visit NYC, because I am. I just keep thinking that maybe
this year my vacation will be someplace
more palm tree oriented than the Big Apple. I miss palm tree vacations – they
come with coconuts and beaches and sometimes giant turtles (See the picture? That turtle swam right by me!).
But there are benefits to visiting a place repeatedly. For
one thing, you know when it’s being faked on television. OK, maybe that’s not
the primary benefit, but it is a good one (Don’t think I don’t remember you Ally McBeal and all your fake Boston sets). Traveling is always a window onto
another place and by visiting it repeatedly you start to really understand the
cultural ecosystem of that town and how far that ecosystem spreads.
It wasn’t until my second visit to New York that I
understood just how very New York Sesame Street was. From Oscar’s crappy garbage can, to the street sign, to the Brown
Stone houses, the main street in every toddlers life is a New York street.  Or the bizarre rubber boot fetish that
currently holds sway in fashion. The that makes a lot more sense when you
realize that even in the summer, New York City is home to a billion disgusting,
fetid puddles waiting to envelop sandal clad feet. Each visit reveals some
further facet of how New York is different, but also how it’s connected to
me.  And while it may not have a
lot of palm trees, the mai tais still taste good, and as Fast Times at Ridgemont High pointed out – “Wherever you are, that’s the place to be.”

In Defense of Trees

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or, Ah crap, just move already; I’m tired of emailing you and want to have coffee in person.
 
by Bethany Maines
So I’m trying to persuade my one-time college roommate, and old fiend The Hobo (not her real name), to pack up her stick and kerchief and move back to Washington State after graduate school.  The Hobo happily attends the illustriously ivy-league institute of Columbia.  That’s right, Columbia, the one in New York.  And I want her to move.  Leave.  Vamoose.  Exit that city stage right.  Yeah… I know what you’re thinking: my odds are not good. 
Manhattan has all night food delivery.  Museums on every block.  Night clubs that stay open till four in the morning.  Better zombie culture.  I’m not sure why that one’s important, but she seems to enjoy it, so who am I to argue?  Manhattan has street vendors, Broadway, fashion, and every movie that does’t blow up LA, blows up New York.  New York has EVERYTHING.
Washington has… trees.  Don’t get me wrong, we have a lot of trees.  And in a grudge match, I would bet on our trees against the trees of any other state in the Union.  (Does your state have Madrona trees?  Coniferous AND deciduous trees?  Rainforest and desert trees?  Yeah… didn’t think so.)  But let’s face it, trees and a fairly decent cultural scene are never going to stack up against New York, New York.
To put it another way, if New York were a man, he’d be Brad Pitt (occasionally the alcoholic, filthy Brad Pitt from Snatch, but still, Brad Pitt).  And if Washington were a man he’d be Jim Caviezel, the dude most well known for playing Jesus.  Just for the record, Jim Caviezel is adorable and was born in Mt. Vernon, Washington (Ok, yes, so was Glenn Beck, but there’s nothing we can do about that).  The problem is that nobody wants to date Jesus except for nuns.  Girls want date dangerous bad boys who make grand gestures.  They don’t want to have a fling with a steady guy who shows up on time and remembers your birthday.
But girls do marry those kind of guys. 
And here’s where I think I’ve got a shot.  As an established Washingtonian I’m in a position to introduce my old friend to Washington’s fun side, it’s sunny side, it’s side that already has connections in the field you want to work in and wouldn’t it be nice to get a job and settle down, not that I’m pressuring you, but you’re not getting any younger and your cat needs someplace larger to run around in than an itty-bitty studio on the Upper West Side. Not that I will be phrasing it that way.  I just want to point out, as subtly and subversively as possible, that the steady guy is worth a look.  Is that so wrong?
And also… we don’t have cockroaches.

New York, New York

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New York City is a magical place filled with wonderful museums, a vibrant theater community, and, as the old television show reminded us, “eight million stories in the Naked City.” It’s a tourist delight, a writer’s treasure trove – and a terrorist target.

I live outside the city, in a quiet suburb about 20 miles from Times Square. I vividly remember September 11, 2001 – and the consuming fear of not knowing for sure where my husband, loved ones, and friends were during those chaotic hours. This time was different. I didn’t hear about this latest threat until Sunday morning, many hours after the event, but the emotions slipped right back into place.

A quick recap: On Saturday night, someone tried to detonate a car bomb in Times Square. If the twin towers of the World Trade Center were seen as symbols for America’s wealth, surely Times Square represents the heart of the people of this great city. Walk through the crowded streets that surround this iconic corner of New York, and you see rich and poor, every color of mankind, young, old, tourists and citizens, all intent on soaking in the energy of the city. It is the center of the theater district and on Saturday night, the shows went dark, as audiences were evacuated. The Lion King, the long-running musical made from the Disney cartoon, was the first to cancel the performance. Tickets for this show, a delight for families and especially young children, are still, after all these years in production, in such demand that there is months-long wait before you can purchase an evening of enchanting theater.

Saturday night, Mayor Bloomberg flew back from the annual Correspondents dinner in Washington, DC, where the jokes and the liquor flowed freely, to deal with this latest danger. He said pointedly, “Terrorists around the world feel threatened by the freedoms we have in this country and want to take our freedoms away from us. (That’s why) they always focus on the symbol of that freedom, and that is New York City.”

It’s trite, but true, that we can’t let them win. When the lights go out on Broadway, it shutters the freedom of expression that is the hallmark of a free society. It closes the feel-good-musicals that have us humming when we leave the theater – as well as the intense, drama-filled plays that make us think about issues long after the last curtain call.

My suspicion is that this will not be a foreign terrorist plot. I suspect it’s another homegrown thug, like Timothy McVeigh, with an agenda that has no respect for human life. It’s less than two weeks after the anniversary of the Oklahoma City Bombing. Homegrown terrorism is, in some ways, harder to stomach than foreign invasions. These are men and women who are permitted to espouse ideas that are an anathema to the very being of our country. But our land thrives because we permit them to speak these hateful thoughts – but they are not permitted to act on them. Your right to speak loathsome concepts ends when you act upon them (or push others to act in your stead).

New York City police understand the constant daily threat that faces this phenomenal city. But in every town, village, and hamlet of our great nation, it’s up to each one of us to help our local law enforcement keep us safe. If you see something, say something. Had a t-shirt vendor in New York City not spoken up on Saturday night, the tragedy that might have ensued is too hard to even contemplate.

The photo at the top of this blog appeared in Life Magazine. It caught a couple in Times Square, celebrating with a kiss the end of World War II. If only this current war on terrorism could have such a definitive ending.

God Bless America.

Marian, the Northern half of Evelyn David

Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com