Escape to New York (Part One)

You could be forgiven for thinking that with a title like this, you would be getting science fiction set in a dystopian, near future starring Kurt Russell as the eye-patch wearing, ex-soldier turned convict Snake Plissken rescuing a stranded US president from a maximum security prison. It’s actually a fond reminiscence of a family holiday in 2004/clumsy travelogue so if you want to move on or make a cup of tea….

It was an unremarkable night in autumn 2003 that I took to Expedia and booked a week’s holiday in New York. It was a bucket list gesture albeit an uncharacteristic moment of impulse; one of which my wife did not approve. As I giddily ran downstairs to announce what I’d one, she looked dead-eyed, declaring that she didn’t like surprises. Either way, the trip was set for Easter 2004. Next step: pre-book tickets for the attractions and build an itinerary.

We flew with American Airlines who whisked us across the Atlantic. The crew were polite and professional, the in-flight meals were what would be expected of pre-packaged, reheated food and the entertainment was functional. Movies were available through a screen on the head rest in front. (“Mean Girls” and “Hellboy” were the big releases of the time). It was either that or watch the flight route unfold on a tracker that plots the path and counts down the miles travelled. This is a surprisingly popular option for either meditational reasons or because some people are terrified of flying and can’t wait for the journey to end. Heathrow to JFK is just over 8 hours flying time.

Arriving, the airport is as busy as you would imagine. The queues at customs were long; dark shades wearing, brooding men and women with holstered guns in booths checking visa waiver forms for accuracy. There was a mistake on my form. Like a scolded pupil, I was sent to the back of the line to complete another one. I am pretty sure I hadn’t ticked the wrong box and had confirmed that I was NOT planning to bring an alien foodstuff into the country (like a half-eaten muffin or something). The soulless guardians of the customs desks looked as though they had the weight of the world on their shoulders – grim faced and unsmiling, reluctantly waving tourists and returning US nationals through. If I was a scheduled flight it would have shown DELAYED on the arrivals board.

The journey to the hotel was an adventure in itself. I had arranged a mini-bus to pick us up to save thrashing about for a cab. The first sight you get of the skyscrapers of Manhattan is one that stays with you forever. Buildings reach up so high into the sky that even craning a neck at the car window isn’t enough to gauge the distance to the top. The average height is 247 metres with the tallest ten percent of buildings containing more than a fifth of all floors. The guidebook I had purchased back in the UK implored me to visit the Woolworth Building, the Chrysler Building and the daddy of them all – The Empire State Building. A feast for a connoisseur of Art Deco buildings; an easy on the eye extravaganza for the uninformed voyeur of classical architecture.

On arrival, the hotel was a grand affair. The “Park Central” is on 7^th Avenue, just half a mile from the city centre. Close to the Rockefeller Centre and Central Park, it comes under the banner of a Midtown Manhattan hotel. Built in the 1920s, it has a retro theme with shining, marble floors, an immaculate lobby and elevators with ornate interiors that transport you back in time to a decade of bootleg moonshine and frantic charlestons.

Our room was notable mainly for the strip of cellotape running along the window sill (I don’t think this qualified as proper sound proofing) and the fact that even 10 stories up was in no way enough to drown out the noise of the traffic below. With 25 floors and 935 rooms, I had been conservatively British in my assessment of the height needed to mitigate the din from some of the noisiest streets in the world. The sound of sirens is a constant in the Big Apple, supplementing the non-stop buzz created by the army of Yellow Cabs that work the city streets and avenues (streets and avenues run perpendicular to each other, sometimes parallel in NYC – streets have buildings on either side, avenues have streets or trees).

Entering an elevator destined for the ground floor and the start of our first excursion, a rotund man wearing a polo shirt and chequered, flapping trousers asked “Where you from?” It quickly became obvious that this was the standard, initial exchange in the States. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t heard of Northampton and wanted to know how far from London it was. (A map of the UK probably has an exaggeratedly large blob for London in US editions of the world atlas). He was from Nebraska and in town for a few days. We moved on, both smiling from our entente cordiale.

In hindsight, I wish I had used the multitudinous cabs more than I did. With everything so close, I wanted to avoid unnecessary costs. However, buildings arranged in blocks look deceptively closer than they actually are. To this day, my wife and daughter lament the distances walked, enduring the occasional wolf whistle from strangers on the sidewalks; I curse my parsimony.

Getting around was easy enough. Shanks’s pony cost nothing (my favourite) but viable, paying alternatives were the omnipresent Yellow Cabs and the Subway. Sidewalks are regularly punctured by concrete stairs leading below ground to the world famous, subterranean system of trains. They were unmistakable, routinely marked by bustling passengers hurrying up and down the stairways en route to and from various parts of the City.

Manhattan Island is bounded by three rivers:  Hudson, East and Harlem – all viewable from the top of the Empire State Building (ESB). Fatefully, the area now so renowned across the globe was bought by Dutch settlers from Native Americans for just 60 guilders in 1624 (approximately $1,059). Not realising that the land they had bought would go on to become amongst the most expensive real estate in the world, the newly acquired settlement was duly named New Amsterdam in 1626. Later, coming under British control, it was renamed New York in 1664 with the lands granted to the Duke of York by King Charles II. With a population well in excess of 8 million, New York is arguably the cultural and financial capital of the world.

This is the city that never sleeps; where you can be king of the hill, top of the heap with Frank Sinatra, watch aghast at the sight of a giant, marshmallow man causing mayhem for Ghostbusters or be on the town for 24 hours of shore leave with Gene Kelly. You can even be Boy George sweeping up litter during community service.

Our first site to visit would be the iconic Empire State Building.