West 40's, NYCIt is an indication of my fierce dedication to this project that, in order to fulfill the demands of the number line, I have been trawling grounds perilously close to Times Square.
This is, as most people know, the Bermuda Triangle of Manhattan, where tourists go to gawk and urbanism goes to die. It is neither original nor interesting to hate on Times Square and makes about as much sense as rolling your eyes at the American Adventure Pavilion at the Epcot Center, yet my revulsion runs deep.
How do I cope? By being prepared. My travel bag on these expeditions includes: Nikon, smelling salts, my cool yet impractical glasses that limit peripheral vision, ear plugs, portable sensory deprivation chamber (if only) and oh yes, that most rare of all items, patience with pedestrians. Is there anything I won't do for &7?
2 comments:
Midtown is also where happiness goes to die.
Yes. In lawn chairs.
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