Crunch Time In The Big Apple
THE SUNDAY AGE
Saturday June 24, 1995
New York City, with all its fables and foibles, can be an overwhelming experience, especially for a first-time visitor. Just ask Geoff Harrison.
I KNEW the trip to New York was going to be exciting when I was called by British Airways in London. I was due to fly to New York from Heathrow that morning. The very pleasant Julie from British Airways suggested I delay my flight as ``They are just clearing the debris from the mortar attack by the IRA off the runway. All flights should be back to normal by 6pm."
Such was the joy of travelling through Europe last year. An IRA attack, or the threat of one, seemed to be an everyday event in Britain at the time.
Anyway, I eventually boarded the flight to John F. Kennedy Airport and sat next to a pleasant elderly couple who asked me if I had ever been on such a long flight before (eight hours from Heathrow to JFK).
I had been warned about the expense of getting to the middle of Manhattan from JFK Airport and decided to splurge and get a taxi into town, rather than drag my luggage on to a bus and then have to get a taxi to my accommodation just off Central Park.
The desk clerk at the historic New York Athletic Club advised me: ``Don't pay more than $50, including tip" for the cab fare.
A PA announcement at JFK warns you not to accept lifts from ``taxis not accredited by New York City . . . accredited drivers will carry a yellow disc."
What they failed to mention on the public address system was that all drivers carry yellow discs, whether they are accredited or not.
They just have them copied and made up.
AT THE exit door of the airport, I was soon accosted by a yellow-disc- carrying man in a black leather cap. ``I'll take you to Manhattan: that'll be 90 bucks, excluding tip and tolls. ``Hang on a minute," I said, ``I was told not to pay more than 50 bucks, including the tip."
``Yeah, but you'll be driven by a no-hoper from Puerto Rico. He probably won't know Manhattan and it will cost you over 100 by the time he finds the place . . ."
``OK, but I won't pay more than 60 bucks, including tips and tolls."
``You drive a hard bargain, buddy, but OK."
He showed me to a very old dirty black Cadillac, which looked very dubious and didn't even have a meter installed.
``Look, I don't know about this, are you accredited?" ``You don't wanna worry about all that accreditation crap: it's all just red tape. Besides, cab licences cost a fortune these days."
As it turned out, he wasn't a real taxi driver but knew Manhattan back to front and wasn't a bad conversationalist. On the way into town, he pointed out the Brooklyn Bridge: ``Sly Stallone was shooting a movie here last week." ``Bruce Willis is a good buddy of mine. I always drive him around when he's in the Big Apple. ``Do you know that Paul Hogan guy? You know, him with the big knife?" ``Yes, I do know Paul. He actually consulted me about all the scenes of violence in the movie and how to make them look realistic."
Manhattan, for a first-timer, hits you with the sheer bulk of the place. The mass of gigantic buildings, so close together, the heaviness of it all.
Imagine a street with 20 or 30 buildings the size of the Rialto packed side by side and you have your average New York thoroughfare.
Just walking round the place is mind-blowing. A short-term visitor doesn't need a car. Parking is impossible. And watch out if you're a pedestrian: New York City Yellow Cabs slow down for no one, especially tourists from Australia who tend to gaze up at buildings.
That's the great thing about New York. Just walking round reveals streets, sites and scenes so engraved in your brain from numerous plays, films and stories that you feel they are part of you.
Broadway, Times Square, Wall Street, Fifth Avenue, 42nd Street, Macy's, Tiffany's, Bloomingdales, Carnegie Hall, the Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, Trump Tower, Central Park. The list is endless.
Having installed myself at the New York Athletic Club on Central Park South, I went for a walk.
The tacky gold entrance to the gigantic Trump Tower on Fifth Avenue is guarded by a humorless doorman, who broke into a wide smile when I asked if I could take his picture. Why the hell not? he said. Michael Jackson had just stayed there with his wife, Lisa Marie. The poor guy on the front door had to deal with hundreds of fanatical Michael Jackson and Elvis fans, who no doubt have also got the doorman's picture in their photo albums.
New York City's reputation for unfriendliness is quite undeserved.
People are very open, once they know you are not going to knife them.
I had to get a picture of myself standing in front of the gigantic Rockefeller Centre on Fifth Avenue. I approached a very respectable family group and explained that I was from Australia and could they take my picture? They initially recoiled but eventually calmed down and did as we asked.
They found Dad quite amusing as he had to practically lie on the pavement in order to fit both me and the Rockefeller Centre into the picture.
The New York Athletic Club is a New York City institution. It is situated on Central Park West, in a 20-storey building with an impressive indoor swimming pool on the fourth floor.
The Trophy Room on the second floor has on display many gold medals won by Americans.
The club recently knocked John F. Kennedy junior back for membership. This could be because the Kennedys are Democrats, which is the sort of affiliation you would do well not to broadcast at the NYAC.
The members of the New York Athletic Club are mostly Ivy League types over the age of 50 and very much in touch with their city. I met an 80-year-old at the communal lunch table who was a former president of the club.
He recounted a story about how he had been accosted by one of the many beggars who hang round the streets of the city. The story of this beggar on Fifth Avenue did make me wonder, though.
``I usually feel very sorry for these people and can't resist putting something into the tin," he told me. ``The beggar was dressed in a long dirty overcoat and was wearing dark glasses. Around his neck he had a sign. It went something like this: `Please help me. I am deaf, blind, dumb, am HIV-positive, adopted, had polio as a child, and homeless. Your contribution to my welfare will be greatly appreciated.' ``It was quite strange, then, to hear this poor unfortunate say `Thank you' when someone dropped a $10 note into his tin. But that's New York."
The former club president explained to the beggar that he had already donated large amounts of money to various charities in New York and felt he did not want to contribute anything just then.
This seemed to change the beggar of yore into something more approaching a potential mugger.
He followed our 80-year-old friend for a few blocks, shouting obscenities and violent threats until he turned round and delivered a fabulous left hook to the head of the potential mugger (who was in his 20s).
This now turned the ``beggar" into an assault victim, which is a bit embarrassing when your assailant is over 80 years of age.
It seems muggers have been put on notice, now : Don't mess with old men in New York, especially if they happen to be former gold medallists in rowing at the Olympics.
THERE is also the true story of the woman who sold pretzels at the top of the subway exit in the Wall Street financial district.
It seems this woman had a thriving business selling pretzels to the stockbrokers. A stockbroker would come rushing out of the subway in the morning and throw a quarter (25 cents) into the woman's tin. One stockbroker always refused to take a pretzel, but never failed, in 10 years, to put his quarter in the tin. One morning he threw the quarter into the tin and rushed past as usual. The woman shouted to him, ``Sir, come back!" The stockbroker came back and said: ``Look, I know you want to know why I have never taken a pretzel. Well, I'm from the Bronx. I've been down there, just like you. This is my way of giving something back to the city. Keep the pretzel. It makes me feel good to give you the money." Her response? ``Listen, I don't give a damn if you don't take the pretzel. Today they went up to 30 cents. You're five cents short."
New York City. Friendly one minute, downright nasty the next. Don't fret if you're going soon. You'll find most people in the city friendly, accommodating and welcoming. Just make sure you get the food you pay for.
And take the bus from JFK Airport to Manhattan island.
© 1995 THE SUNDAY AGE