Getting there requires going through Times Square, my least favorite part of Manhattan. Years ago, my then 5-year old nephew visited. We were going to Madame Tussauds Wax Museum. As we exited the subway on 42nd Street, Jack looked around and declared, "This is what people think of when they think of New York."
I'm competing with a zillion people for space. Walking on the street is a lot easier than trying to negotiate the sidewalk. I wish I had more than an iPhone with me. But even bad photos can easily capture the everyday chaos of Times Square.
Lights everywhere. Cars honking. Neon lights sparkling. Taxis speeding. People pushing. Noise and people and movement everywhere.
I'm waiting for the light to change and I see a little boy, about two, in a stroller. I hear the boy's mother ask, "How would you like to live here?" Without hesitation the toddler answers, "I wouldn't." Well of course he wouldn't.
I want to say to the little boy, "Hey, I don't blame you. I wouldn't want to live here either. But your mom's question was unfair. THIS isn't the real New York. Where I live it's quiet. Trees line the street. There are neighborhoods. I recognize people wherever I go. The sidewalks don't look anything like the ones here. We have lights, but not big bright colored ones. People walk at normal speeds. No one pushes each other. Oh, and by the way, it's the greatest city in the world. You can grow up here and it never gets old.
The light changes and I cross it. Poor kid, it'll take him a while but I'm sure at some point he'll discover for himself just how magical New York City really is.
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