These Are The People In My Neighborhood
I work in midtown Manhattan. Have for a lot of years now. Like any other old person, I’ll tell you that it ain’t what it used to be. That’s not a positive statement or a negative statement. It is merely a fact, like what time the sun rose this morning or whether it rained yesterday or not.
Then again, I guess those facts depend on where you are. Then again, so does what I said.
Despite the Disney-like, squeaky clean faux New York that exists in Times Square itself bits of real life still exist on the perimeter.
There’s a panhandler who works the back entrance of my building. Not sure it he has some kind of mental handicap or if he’s affecting one; he stands out there every evening and says over and over again “Spare some change…..spare some change”. Like any businessman he keeps regular hours. If I work very late he’s not there, and he takes off on the holidays. I know this because he wasn’t there on Columbus Day last year. Maybe he’s from Canada and was celebrating Thanksgiving, or maybe he’s a proud Italian who views Columbus Day as his St. Patrick’s Day the way some do.
Halfway down the block there are a couple of hole in the wall delis. One of them is quite popular because they make huge hot heros at reasonable (for Midtown) prices. And because one of the store’s managers runs a bookmaking operation out of there. Or at least he used to. Guys used to go down to get a chicken parm and lay a ten timer on Ohio State or play football tickets. You know, the printed ones where picking 5 games correctly against the spread gets you 100 “points” and the dates of all the games are exactly 10 years ago. I haven’t seen any action like that in a while so maybe they’ve gotten out of that business. Or maybe they’ve gotten more discreet.
Across the street there’s another deli that I sometimes stop in after work to grab a Brooklyn IPA or two for my commute home. In the back there’s usually a table of Hispanic laborers knocking down a bunch of end-of-day Coronas and Budweisers, laughing and yelling but eyeing the front door warily. Sometimes at lunchtime there’s a loud, Irish-looking guy in there wearing a parking lot attendant’s uniform pounding down Bud tall boys in brown paper bags and looking nervously around the corner every 30 seconds. Be careful who backs your car into that tight garage spot while you go to that Wednesday matinee, ladies.
Did you ever see the Twilight Zone episode with the street pitchman who wants to make “one last pitch to open the heavens”? Got one of those in the neighborhood too. He’s an older Australian guy who works the corners of 6th avenue in the mid-forties. I’ve seen him do everything from kitchen gadget sets (peeling potatoes and slicing tomatoes atop a newspaper covered cardboard box) to children's books to toy robots. Since he often works across from the News Corp building some folks call him “Rupert” in a jab at the Australian media magnate. He works and bellows and sweats and sells. He gets by, somehow.
I haven't seen a bona fide three card monte game in about 15 years, however.
The impending warmer weather should bring the return of the Falun Gong street art/protest shows and the conspiracy nuts petitioning the networks all along 6th avenue to take up their causes, often with colorful placard displays and boomboxes blasting patriotic music. Spring ahead indeed.
Then again, I guess those facts depend on where you are. Then again, so does what I said.
Despite the Disney-like, squeaky clean faux New York that exists in Times Square itself bits of real life still exist on the perimeter.
There’s a panhandler who works the back entrance of my building. Not sure it he has some kind of mental handicap or if he’s affecting one; he stands out there every evening and says over and over again “Spare some change…..spare some change”. Like any businessman he keeps regular hours. If I work very late he’s not there, and he takes off on the holidays. I know this because he wasn’t there on Columbus Day last year. Maybe he’s from Canada and was celebrating Thanksgiving, or maybe he’s a proud Italian who views Columbus Day as his St. Patrick’s Day the way some do.
Halfway down the block there are a couple of hole in the wall delis. One of them is quite popular because they make huge hot heros at reasonable (for Midtown) prices. And because one of the store’s managers runs a bookmaking operation out of there. Or at least he used to. Guys used to go down to get a chicken parm and lay a ten timer on Ohio State or play football tickets. You know, the printed ones where picking 5 games correctly against the spread gets you 100 “points” and the dates of all the games are exactly 10 years ago. I haven’t seen any action like that in a while so maybe they’ve gotten out of that business. Or maybe they’ve gotten more discreet.
Across the street there’s another deli that I sometimes stop in after work to grab a Brooklyn IPA or two for my commute home. In the back there’s usually a table of Hispanic laborers knocking down a bunch of end-of-day Coronas and Budweisers, laughing and yelling but eyeing the front door warily. Sometimes at lunchtime there’s a loud, Irish-looking guy in there wearing a parking lot attendant’s uniform pounding down Bud tall boys in brown paper bags and looking nervously around the corner every 30 seconds. Be careful who backs your car into that tight garage spot while you go to that Wednesday matinee, ladies.
Did you ever see the Twilight Zone episode with the street pitchman who wants to make “one last pitch to open the heavens”? Got one of those in the neighborhood too. He’s an older Australian guy who works the corners of 6th avenue in the mid-forties. I’ve seen him do everything from kitchen gadget sets (peeling potatoes and slicing tomatoes atop a newspaper covered cardboard box) to children's books to toy robots. Since he often works across from the News Corp building some folks call him “Rupert” in a jab at the Australian media magnate. He works and bellows and sweats and sells. He gets by, somehow.
I haven't seen a bona fide three card monte game in about 15 years, however.
The impending warmer weather should bring the return of the Falun Gong street art/protest shows and the conspiracy nuts petitioning the networks all along 6th avenue to take up their causes, often with colorful placard displays and boomboxes blasting patriotic music. Spring ahead indeed.
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