13. TIPPING
One of the reasons I thought of this as something worthy of discussion at all is that I happen to be in an industry that leaves people unsure as to whether or not I should be tipped. I'm continually asked whether or not I'm salaried, which I am, though not particularly exorbitantly. Some people in similar positions typically are not, especially museum docents. Let it be said that everyone loves a tip. It's extra dollars in our pockets. Every little bit helps, as they say.
Please don't ask the question "do you/ can you accept a tip/ gratuity?" This puts the recipient in a somewhat awkward position. No one honestly wants to answer "no" to that question, but they may be encouraged to do so by their employer. While most employers will condemn soliciting them, most smart ones won't forbid the accepting of tips, realizing a gesture that could read as "your money's not good enough for me" is not necessarily good for business. Answering to that question, "yes, please, I gladly accept tips!" feels tacky and greedy. If you feel the person deserves a tip, just put the money in their hand and don't take "no" for an answer.
Be aware that a very small tip can be more insulting than none at all. Not tipping (outside of restaurants) suggests you didn't realize it was customary or just didn't think of it. A small one says you felt obligated to tip but you didn't really think the person did a very good job. This can cause embarrassing situations, as well, if you happen to be someplace rather snooty. I once heard a story about a waiter at a very upscale restaurant chasing down a patron to return an insultingly meager tip. He said at some volume, "here, you obviously need this money more than I do," and gave the money back.
Customs about tipping are pretty much different everywhere you go in the world. In an attempt to take the guesswork out of it here, I've come up with this basic rule of thumb: Tip those quality employees who provide a personalized service for you, but who will not receive any kind of commission from their employer for doing a good job. Conveniently, this rule includes my job in the description, but I still think it's a fair one.
For one example, restaurant wait staff are paid considerably less than they might otherwise be, in anticipation that they're working primarily for their tips. In this case, the tip is much like a commission for a job well done. In other words, unlike a retail store employee who can encourage or discourage a sale, a waiter's performance has little bearing on whether or not you'll be purchasing food once you've sat down in a restaurant. That's pretty much a given.
I'll also take this opportunity to weigh in on the low-class individuals who "don't believe in" tipping restaurant wait staff. When you sit down at a table in a restaurant, you are entering into a social contract, the same as everyone else, and the tip is a part of that contract. If you don't want to tip, then eat at a fast food place. Whether or not you "agree with" the practice of paying waitstaff lower salaries in anticipation of tips is beyond irrelevant. That's how it works. By not tipping, you are sabotaging the system for the rest of us. Let me be clear, a zero-dollar tip at a restaurant is not zero dollars for the waiter. That's negative ten percent, and you're now quite literally stealing from that person's paycheck. An eight- to ten-percent tip is around zero. Fifteen percent is normal good service. Twenty or above is truly exceptional service.
On the other side of this are the people who feel guilty for tipping a waiter anything less than fifteen percent, regardless of how miserable the service was. Maybe surprisingly, I do condone tipping lower when it is legitimately justified because of an opinion I once heard. It's that if the person in question is truly that bad at their job, then they really ought to find another line of work. If it's the only work they can get, then they ought to take their job performance more seriously. I believe that's true. And if the person is great, then they'll get that twenty percent from me, no question.
Another thing I'd recommend watching out for, if you're traveling with a lot of people, is the compulsory fifteen percent automatically added to the bill for large parties. I once had dinner with a relatively large group of people at a restaurant in San Francisco. I had never in my life had a waiter more incompetent than this woman. She forgot my order not once, but twice, everyone but me was served, then my food arrived about ten minutes later, and a few other things that I have chosen to block out of my memory. But her entirely unearned tip was already added, so she could let her performance slide, and I had no recourse. It might be to sit everyone at one enormous table if you're celebrating a special occasion. But if practical, I recommend breaking up into tables of four or five people so your server has a real incentive to serve you properly.
With a clothing store employee, if they do a good job, it may mean the difference between a sale or not. Granted, not all clothing stores award commissions to their salespeople, but that would be the rationale behind not tipping them in the parameters of my rule, despite the fact that their service can sometimes be personalized. Usually it wouldn't be. Furthermore, a nosey, pushy retail store employee can actually be more annoying than helpful.
The personalized aspect is explained well by taxi drivers and hotel bellhops and room service staff. Bellhops don't make a ton of money, either, but they are paid for their work. What they do for you, however, carrying your luggage to your room, is about as personalized as it gets. So they are tipped, though not as much as a waiter. The service of a hotel concierge can be extremely personal, but their "commissions" come in the form of innumerable perks like free dinners at the best table at every five-star restaurant in town (that's hyperbole, but you might be surprised).
Museum docents are a strange breed. I've never seen anyone tip them, although I'm sure it does happen. I'd say they mostly fall into three categories of people. Some are museum curators making gobs of money already, anyway. Others are college student interns, the benefits for whom are educational, not monetary. The third are rich old ladies with time to spare who volunteer for these positions and probably don't need an extra five dollars. What docents do is also not very personalized. Any personal relationship between docents and their audiences can only very rarely develop, simply because of the nature of the environment. An exception to this that I might foresee would be, for example, a docent addressing a group of adults on their level who makes a concerted effort to also engage a small child there with his or her parent in a way that's appropriate to the child's age. That shows personalized attention and is worthy of recognition.
If I'm to be honest about my own position as a tour guide, I'd say I'm tipped by about a third of my guests, on average about five to ten dollars at a time. The least I've been tipped was maybe two dollars, the most from one person I think was forty. That was a good day. According to a lot of people I meet, I really am the best tour guide in New York XD, and I go out of my way to personalize what I do, so I may be tipped more than most. But if your group is twenty or thirty people, I'd suggest everyone who enjoyed themselves just give one dollar toward a tip. A single dollar is meager compared to the admission fees for most things in the city. If only five people enjoyed the experience, that's a five-dollar tip, which is not terrible. Everyone? That's a thirty-dollar tip, and most people would be extremely grateful for that. A tour director who rides with you on a chartered bus and spends the majority of your trip helping your group should be tipped relatively generously, I'd say somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty dollars for each day spent with you.
However much you decide to tip someone outside of a restaurant--where the tipping percentages are more or less standardized--the best compliment you can give a person is using small bills. A tip of a twenty-dollar bill is wonderful, but that could either mean you thought they deserved twenty dollars, or that you thought they deserved something, and a twenty was the smallest bill you had on you. A ten and two fives, on the other hand, says five was not enough, ten was not enough, fifteen was not enough. No, this person deserved a twenty-dollar tip and nothing less. Even better than this was something that happened to me a couple of weeks ago. A couple had no cash, or not enough cash on them. They literally went to an ATM machine and came back to tip me. I could not have been more flattered.
©2013, Ryan Witte
14. Shopping
Showing posts with label tourism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tourism. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
GET LOST: A New York Tour Guide's Guide to New York #12g
12g. TRANSPORTATION--BICYCLES & BOATS
There are plenty of places to rent bicycles, especially near Central Park. I was shocked to learn how cheap they can be. You might need to leave a credit card or identification behind for collateral, but it shouldn't be much more than about ten dollars an hour. I don't recommend this as solely a means of transportation, unless you're very used to riding a bike in a large city. Even if you are, it can be extremely dangerous. We have gotten many miles of new bike lanes recently, but we're not yet at a point where motor vehicles and self-propelled ones can move together in complete harmony. For seeing the park, however, this is a fantastic idea.
A couple of times I spotted people rolling around on a conference bike. Either they were unpopular, deadly, illegal, or all of the above. I have no idea, but I really hope they retired them because they're absolutely idiotic on the streets of Manhattan.
Another self-propelled mode of transportation worth mentioning is rowboats. Getting a rowboat in Central Park with two or three friends is very inexpensive and a boatload of fun. [Ugh, that was so awful, sorry.] You can keep them out on the water as long as you want (for a fee), but this means that sometimes there can be a queue of people waiting for boats. Before you enter the park, stock up on wine and cheese or beer and sandwiches, just not so much that you fall out of the boat. Surrounding the park are some of the most exquisitely beautiful (and expensive), turn-of-the-century high-rise apartment buildings in the world, and from the lake is one of the best places to see them.
Although it's very much off the beaten path compared to most of what I'm discussing in these posts, I wanted to mention the kayaks because I just think it's so cool. The Long Island City Boathouse gives out free kayaks in the summer months at high-tide that you can paddle out into the East River. For visitors who may be more active and adventurous but are on a tight budget, I think it's fantastic that they're doing it. I haven't taken advantage of it, myself. I prefer canoes to something that can flip over so easily. I may very well talk myself into doing it one of these summers.
©2013, Ryan Witte
13. Tipping
There are plenty of places to rent bicycles, especially near Central Park. I was shocked to learn how cheap they can be. You might need to leave a credit card or identification behind for collateral, but it shouldn't be much more than about ten dollars an hour. I don't recommend this as solely a means of transportation, unless you're very used to riding a bike in a large city. Even if you are, it can be extremely dangerous. We have gotten many miles of new bike lanes recently, but we're not yet at a point where motor vehicles and self-propelled ones can move together in complete harmony. For seeing the park, however, this is a fantastic idea.
A couple of times I spotted people rolling around on a conference bike. Either they were unpopular, deadly, illegal, or all of the above. I have no idea, but I really hope they retired them because they're absolutely idiotic on the streets of Manhattan.
Another self-propelled mode of transportation worth mentioning is rowboats. Getting a rowboat in Central Park with two or three friends is very inexpensive and a boatload of fun. [Ugh, that was so awful, sorry.] You can keep them out on the water as long as you want (for a fee), but this means that sometimes there can be a queue of people waiting for boats. Before you enter the park, stock up on wine and cheese or beer and sandwiches, just not so much that you fall out of the boat. Surrounding the park are some of the most exquisitely beautiful (and expensive), turn-of-the-century high-rise apartment buildings in the world, and from the lake is one of the best places to see them.
Although it's very much off the beaten path compared to most of what I'm discussing in these posts, I wanted to mention the kayaks because I just think it's so cool. The Long Island City Boathouse gives out free kayaks in the summer months at high-tide that you can paddle out into the East River. For visitors who may be more active and adventurous but are on a tight budget, I think it's fantastic that they're doing it. I haven't taken advantage of it, myself. I prefer canoes to something that can flip over so easily. I may very well talk myself into doing it one of these summers.
©2013, Ryan Witte
13. Tipping
Monday, January 28, 2013
GET LOST: A New York Tour Guide's Guide to New York #12f
12f. TRANSPORTATION--HANSOM CABS AND PEDICABS
I thought I'd combine these two into one installment because there's not much to say about either.
Hansom cabs, for anyone who doesn't know, are the horse-drawn carriages found almost exclusively around the southern end of Central Park. Although they will presumably take you anywhere you'd need to go, within reason, mostly they're used for seeing the park itself. Recently I thought it would be rather funny to have one of them take me to work, and just get out as if it were from a normal motorized taxi. But I sort of disagree with them.
Don't get me wrong, I sometimes try my best to imagine the city before the invention of the combustion engine. It must have been such a wildly different environment, albeit considerably stinkier. But mostly I just think people riding hansom cabs look rather silly, if not lazy. Romance I think is the one exception I'm willing to allow. To each his own, I guess; the sight and smell of a horse's back door doesn't make me feel particularly romantic.
My main objection stems from being an animal lover. I suspect the stables take very good care of the horses. But I don't think New York is a good place for even very large dogs, unless their human companions are extremely active (jogging every day active), extremely responsible, and have easy access to a park where dogs are permitted. For certain this is no place for a horse. There's no reason for it. The combustion engine has been invented and they've worked out most of the bugs, too.
The worst is seeing these poor creatures standing around when it's 19°F (-7°C) outside (blanketed or not), or for that matter trotting through the city when it's 89° (32°C). Those are the real temperatures. Compare this life to the horses living on a sprawling horse farm in rural Virginia, running around eating dandelions all day. New York City law allows them to work nine hours a day, seven days a week, inhumane by just about anyone's standards. It just makes me sad.
Ironically, I don't have the same problems with horseback riding. This is more of a skill, requires a certain level of athleticism, and also allows the rider to develop a sort of relationship with the horse, if only for an hour or so. Unfortunately, you can no longer rent horses in Central Park. Since the only parks where you can are in the outer boroughs, I'll leave that mode of transportation for someone else to discuss.
Pedicabs are also propelled by animal, but the mammals are human beings. It's basically a tricycle rickshaw. These, as a friend of mine once said, are the absolute height of laziness. You can't be bothered to carry your own body down the street, so you have some poor guy do it for you (they overwhelmingly seem to be 20-something-year-old males). They should charge about one dollar per block or forty-five dollars for an hour, but you can practically walk faster than they travel a lot of time. Speed is not a selling point here.
Aside from the fact that, unlike horses, they're doing this more or less voluntarily, one justification for hiring one is to help the person out. Likely he's doing it to get his financial footing in a new city or make a little extra money to add to that from a more conventional job. I suspect some of them may also be athletes, professional bicycle racers and so on, who do it to make some money while also training. Hire one with a nice looking butt, because that's what you'll be staring at the whole time.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12g. Bicycles, Boats, Kayaks
I thought I'd combine these two into one installment because there's not much to say about either.
Hansom cabs, for anyone who doesn't know, are the horse-drawn carriages found almost exclusively around the southern end of Central Park. Although they will presumably take you anywhere you'd need to go, within reason, mostly they're used for seeing the park itself. Recently I thought it would be rather funny to have one of them take me to work, and just get out as if it were from a normal motorized taxi. But I sort of disagree with them.
Don't get me wrong, I sometimes try my best to imagine the city before the invention of the combustion engine. It must have been such a wildly different environment, albeit considerably stinkier. But mostly I just think people riding hansom cabs look rather silly, if not lazy. Romance I think is the one exception I'm willing to allow. To each his own, I guess; the sight and smell of a horse's back door doesn't make me feel particularly romantic.
My main objection stems from being an animal lover. I suspect the stables take very good care of the horses. But I don't think New York is a good place for even very large dogs, unless their human companions are extremely active (jogging every day active), extremely responsible, and have easy access to a park where dogs are permitted. For certain this is no place for a horse. There's no reason for it. The combustion engine has been invented and they've worked out most of the bugs, too.
The worst is seeing these poor creatures standing around when it's 19°F (-7°C) outside (blanketed or not), or for that matter trotting through the city when it's 89° (32°C). Those are the real temperatures. Compare this life to the horses living on a sprawling horse farm in rural Virginia, running around eating dandelions all day. New York City law allows them to work nine hours a day, seven days a week, inhumane by just about anyone's standards. It just makes me sad.
Ironically, I don't have the same problems with horseback riding. This is more of a skill, requires a certain level of athleticism, and also allows the rider to develop a sort of relationship with the horse, if only for an hour or so. Unfortunately, you can no longer rent horses in Central Park. Since the only parks where you can are in the outer boroughs, I'll leave that mode of transportation for someone else to discuss.
Pedicabs are also propelled by animal, but the mammals are human beings. It's basically a tricycle rickshaw. These, as a friend of mine once said, are the absolute height of laziness. You can't be bothered to carry your own body down the street, so you have some poor guy do it for you (they overwhelmingly seem to be 20-something-year-old males). They should charge about one dollar per block or forty-five dollars for an hour, but you can practically walk faster than they travel a lot of time. Speed is not a selling point here.
Aside from the fact that, unlike horses, they're doing this more or less voluntarily, one justification for hiring one is to help the person out. Likely he's doing it to get his financial footing in a new city or make a little extra money to add to that from a more conventional job. I suspect some of them may also be athletes, professional bicycle racers and so on, who do it to make some money while also training. Hire one with a nice looking butt, because that's what you'll be staring at the whole time.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12g. Bicycles, Boats, Kayaks
Thursday, January 17, 2013
GET LOST: A New York Tour Guide's Guide to New York #12e
12e. TRANSPORTATION--LIVERY CABS
For anyone who doesn't know what this means, a livery cab is a little nicer than the basic yellow cab. It can be a short limousine, but most often it's a plain black town car. Most people who would use one are super wealthy and will have one dedicated to them for their entire stay or will call ahead to reserve one for specific trips, particularly from and to the airport. I believe they have a plaque showing their certification, but they will always have "Livery" on their license plate. Do not get into any car without the livery license plate, ever. At best it may be a gypsy cab with questionable ethics, and I won't bother to describe the worst-case scenario.
The reason I mention them here is that while a livery cab driver is waiting for their reserved customer to eat dinner at a restaurant or whatever, they may drive around looking for additional fares on the side. From what I've heard, they're technically not really supposed to do this, but I don't fault a person for doing what they can to make a little extra money. You gotta do what you gotta do, right? I assume most people who hire them for an evening expect the driver to look for other fares when they're free to do so. If you're on the street trying to hail a yellow cab, one of these drivers might pull up to ask where you need to go. If it's a short enough trip, the driver may offer to take you. You can certainly take advantage of this and pretend you're a celebrity when you get out at your destination. [For the record, actual celebrities don't hire big, obnoxious white Hummer stretch limos. They take town cars so they'll be less conspicuous.]
It's a nicer ride than a yellow cab, so expect to pay more. Ask how much it will be and agree on a price before getting in. Otherwise, the driver can charge whatever he or she wants and you're out of luck. Usually they'll ask for around double the price for a normal cab, which in my opinion is a waste of money unless you're truly desperate. Another regular yellow cab will likely come along in less than a minute, anyway.
On average, a yellow cab should be about one dollar for every two to four street blocks, and about a dollar or two for every avenue block. For instance, a ride straight downtown from 50th to 20th Street in moving traffic should cost about six to eight dollars including the tip. The livery driver will likely ask for twenty to twenty-five dollars. There's nothing wrong with haggling them down. For that trip, in my opinion, much more than fifteen dollars is not worth it, no matter how nice the car is.
©2013, Ryan Witte
12f. Hansom Cabs and Pedicabs
For anyone who doesn't know what this means, a livery cab is a little nicer than the basic yellow cab. It can be a short limousine, but most often it's a plain black town car. Most people who would use one are super wealthy and will have one dedicated to them for their entire stay or will call ahead to reserve one for specific trips, particularly from and to the airport. I believe they have a plaque showing their certification, but they will always have "Livery" on their license plate. Do not get into any car without the livery license plate, ever. At best it may be a gypsy cab with questionable ethics, and I won't bother to describe the worst-case scenario.
The reason I mention them here is that while a livery cab driver is waiting for their reserved customer to eat dinner at a restaurant or whatever, they may drive around looking for additional fares on the side. From what I've heard, they're technically not really supposed to do this, but I don't fault a person for doing what they can to make a little extra money. You gotta do what you gotta do, right? I assume most people who hire them for an evening expect the driver to look for other fares when they're free to do so. If you're on the street trying to hail a yellow cab, one of these drivers might pull up to ask where you need to go. If it's a short enough trip, the driver may offer to take you. You can certainly take advantage of this and pretend you're a celebrity when you get out at your destination. [For the record, actual celebrities don't hire big, obnoxious white Hummer stretch limos. They take town cars so they'll be less conspicuous.]
It's a nicer ride than a yellow cab, so expect to pay more. Ask how much it will be and agree on a price before getting in. Otherwise, the driver can charge whatever he or she wants and you're out of luck. Usually they'll ask for around double the price for a normal cab, which in my opinion is a waste of money unless you're truly desperate. Another regular yellow cab will likely come along in less than a minute, anyway.
On average, a yellow cab should be about one dollar for every two to four street blocks, and about a dollar or two for every avenue block. For instance, a ride straight downtown from 50th to 20th Street in moving traffic should cost about six to eight dollars including the tip. The livery driver will likely ask for twenty to twenty-five dollars. There's nothing wrong with haggling them down. For that trip, in my opinion, much more than fifteen dollars is not worth it, no matter how nice the car is.
©2013, Ryan Witte
12f. Hansom Cabs and Pedicabs
Friday, October 5, 2012
GET LOST: A New York Tour Guide's Guide to New York #12d
12d. TRANSPORTATION--TAXI CABS
It might seem that taxis would be faster than waiting for trains, but this is completely true only at night. During the day, for all the same reasons that most New Yorkers don't own cars, it can actually be a huge waste of time and money. The one thing they do offer is privacy and comfort compared to the trains. Late at night, the one time I might certainly recommend taking a cab, you can get from just about any destination to another in the central part of Manhattan in less than fifteen minutes and for under fifteen dollars including the tip. Often it's much less.
During the daytime, cabs are only worth taking for distances between around fifteen and forty blocks (street blocks, that is, not avenue blocks). Less than that and, considering the cost and slowness, you may as well just walk it. Much more than that and you'd likely get there much faster and for much less money by taking the subway. One exception is if you have luggage or other heavy items on you, especially trips to and from the airport.
There are fifteen different vehicles authorized by the Taxi & Limousine Commission, the most recent of which, the Nissan NV200 shown here, was introduced as the "Taxi of Tomorrow" at this year's auto show. A few of them, namely the Mercedes E350, Volkswagen Golf, and AM General MV-1, I have never once seen on the street. For those who may be environmentally conscious, eight of the fifteen have hybrid models available. The NV200 will soon be available as an electric vehicle, as will the Volkswagen Jetta. The Jetta is also available in a version which burns biofuel. I have every confidence the city chose these particular models for that very reason. The number of hybrid taxis continues to rise, and customers appear to prefer them. Although they certainly produce less pollution as well, resources must also be tapped for maintenance and repair, which produce different kinds of pollutants, and have been so costly as to call into question the benefit of savings on fuel usage. In fact, a plan to replace every New York City taxi in use to hybrid models by a certain year had to be scrapped for this reason.
The next thing to discuss is hailing. I'm always shocked by how often I see people who appear comfortable in the city who don't seem to understand how the fare lights work. They stand there waving their hand in the air becoming increasingly agitated and insulted as taxi after taxi passes by them. There has been discussion about changing the fare lights to make them more intuitive and easier to understand, but until that happens, here it is.
When I say fare lights, I refer to the little light box on the roof right above the windshield, facing front. It has three settings. All the lights off means the cab has a fare on board and is unavailable. The taxi's ID number lit alone means the cab is available to accept a fare. If this cab passes you by, you have right to be insulted unless the driver is unable to merge lanes or some other issue. On both sides of the ID number are two more lights that read "off duty." This is fairly self-explanatory unless you're too far away or didn't think to read what it says. If all the lights are lit, the cab is unavailable. Yes, I know, that's stupid. But that's how it works.
There is a provision on off-duty cabs, however. Since the driver is obviously traveling somewhere, what this usually means is that he or she is changing shifts. Most cabs are shared between two drivers, one taking the day shift, the other taking the night shift. The bizarre thing about the shift change is that it happens when you'd least expect it, between 4:00 and 5:00PM. It has to do with ensuring that both shifts include a rush hour, and avoiding the day shift starting at, say, 2AM. But it means that when you'd most want to have a cab take you somewhere, there aren't any.
In any case, you may occasionally see an off-duty driver stopping for a potential fare, but rolling down the window first to ask where the person needs to go. If the driver is going generally in the same direction as the potential customer, he or she will usually be happy to pick up one last customer before quitting time. Don't be insulted if the driver simply says "sorry, no," and speeds off. This just means your destination is too far out of the way. The taxi stations are mostly out in Queens somewhere and the driver will be fined for getting the car back late.
It's possible that if you have an emergency, you could offer an off-duty driver more money to take you, for instance, double what the meter says. I've never seen anyone try this to know if it would work. Likely more money wouldn't make a difference unless you're willing to cover the driver's potential thirty-dollar late fee.
Typically the most people a single taxi will agree to take is four, unless you get one of the minivan ones with more seats. If you're overflowing the back, some drivers prefer you ask first before taking the front seat. If you have more people than the vehicle is supposed to hold, you'll need to ask the driver if he or she is willing to accommodate you, and it's probably not a bad idea to offer some extra money for he or she taking the risk. Most of the time you'll need to split your group between two cabs.
Once you've gotten into the cab there is one crucial thing you need to have for where you want to go: the street and avenue intersection ("61st & Lex") or mid-block location between two others ("39th between 2nd & 3rd Avenue"). The numbered street address of the specific building is great to have, but unless it's on a major artery, the driver is likely to just guesstimate into what block that building address falls. Certainly smart phones are quickly making this kind of advice obsolete, but I still think it's wise to do your own homework.
I used to know a person with whom it was so embarrassing to take cabs because he would get in and order the driver to take us to "Such-and-Such Obscure Expensive French Restaurant, please," as if the driver should have any clue where that is. Then he would proceed to complain loudly enough for the driver to hear him how New York City cab drivers don't know where anything is. In a way, it was extra rude because we'd be going someplace this unfortunate cab driver probably couldn't even afford to go.
In some cities like London, taxi drivers must pass an extensive exam and know exactly how to get to just about every last random address in the city. Unlike the potentially confusing city of London, likely because of the numbered grid, New York cab drivers don't have to memorize every street to get the job. Whatever you think about that, it's just how it is. Central Manhattan, where most people are going, is easy enough. But the city as a whole is a big place. There are enormous stretches of eastern Brookyn where I have never even set foot, and in a car, would be hopelessly lost in five minutes.
Most drivers know the location of major sites in Manhattan, especially things like train stations and larger cultural venues, because these are the places where they're guaranteed to find fares. But some random little hotel? Forget it. Know where you're going. In the outer boroughs, it can often be necessary to have a vague idea of what route you need to take, as well.
There's another unfortunate reason why it's so important to know exactly where you're going. I'm sorry to have to say this, but the driver will probably try to rip you off. The good news is that there's nothing that can be done to mess with the meter. The meter is automatic, must be used for every ride, and it's calculated pretty well to benefit both the driver and the passenger fairly, regardless of whether you're speeding along fast or stopped in horrible traffic. But I cannot tell you how many times I've been in a cab with someone who the driver only suspects is from out of town and suddenly I find we're going around and around in circles, or taking the, ahem, "scenic route" to our destination.
Usually they won't screw around if you're going to the airport. They know you'll lose your marbles if you think you're going to miss your plane. But if you're headed to a hotel, the driver will probably assume you have no idea where you are and won't notice an extra trip around the block. A lot of the new cabs have a screen in the back which includes GPS mapping of your route, but if you don't know the city geography and aren't watching the screen extremely closely the entire time, this might not help all that much--and give you motion sickness in the process.
A friend who worked in hospitality recently made me aware of a really smart move in this situation: telling the driver he or she missed your turn and asking that the meter please be stopped. Give him or her the benefit of the doubt that it may have been an honest mistake. Insinuating that the person is a crook won't do anything but make the scene needlessly ugly. Remember that a lot of the streets do go only one way, and that the driver may have had no choice but to circle around. Getting out on the nearest corner and walking an extra fifty yards to your destination rather than being taken right up to its front door can help to avoid this question, also. If the driver refuses to turn off the meter and you are certain you were being taken on the long route, don't tip. Making a mental note of the driver's ID number is never a bad idea--it's only four digits, easy to memorize--especially if you later discover your cell phone fell out of your pocket in the cab.
And please do tip otherwise, especially if you got there faster than you thought you would or the driver helped with your lead-bullion-filled luggage. Driving a cab is a thankless job with obnoxious passengers, traffic accidents, nutjobs, and muggers. Cab drivers aren't living in twelve-bedroom mansions as it is. A lot of them are honest folks working their way through college, hardworking parents just trying to feed their kids, or retirees for whom social security isn't enough. Lastly, do not ever assume, just because your driver doesn't speak flawless English and is likely newly immigrated to the United States, that he or she doesn't have two doctorates in neurobiology from the best university back home. Trust me, a lot of them do, but those jobs aren't so easy to find here, at least not immediately upon arriving.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12e. Livery Cabs
It might seem that taxis would be faster than waiting for trains, but this is completely true only at night. During the day, for all the same reasons that most New Yorkers don't own cars, it can actually be a huge waste of time and money. The one thing they do offer is privacy and comfort compared to the trains. Late at night, the one time I might certainly recommend taking a cab, you can get from just about any destination to another in the central part of Manhattan in less than fifteen minutes and for under fifteen dollars including the tip. Often it's much less.
During the daytime, cabs are only worth taking for distances between around fifteen and forty blocks (street blocks, that is, not avenue blocks). Less than that and, considering the cost and slowness, you may as well just walk it. Much more than that and you'd likely get there much faster and for much less money by taking the subway. One exception is if you have luggage or other heavy items on you, especially trips to and from the airport.
The next thing to discuss is hailing. I'm always shocked by how often I see people who appear comfortable in the city who don't seem to understand how the fare lights work. They stand there waving their hand in the air becoming increasingly agitated and insulted as taxi after taxi passes by them. There has been discussion about changing the fare lights to make them more intuitive and easier to understand, but until that happens, here it is.
When I say fare lights, I refer to the little light box on the roof right above the windshield, facing front. It has three settings. All the lights off means the cab has a fare on board and is unavailable. The taxi's ID number lit alone means the cab is available to accept a fare. If this cab passes you by, you have right to be insulted unless the driver is unable to merge lanes or some other issue. On both sides of the ID number are two more lights that read "off duty." This is fairly self-explanatory unless you're too far away or didn't think to read what it says. If all the lights are lit, the cab is unavailable. Yes, I know, that's stupid. But that's how it works.
There is a provision on off-duty cabs, however. Since the driver is obviously traveling somewhere, what this usually means is that he or she is changing shifts. Most cabs are shared between two drivers, one taking the day shift, the other taking the night shift. The bizarre thing about the shift change is that it happens when you'd least expect it, between 4:00 and 5:00PM. It has to do with ensuring that both shifts include a rush hour, and avoiding the day shift starting at, say, 2AM. But it means that when you'd most want to have a cab take you somewhere, there aren't any.
In any case, you may occasionally see an off-duty driver stopping for a potential fare, but rolling down the window first to ask where the person needs to go. If the driver is going generally in the same direction as the potential customer, he or she will usually be happy to pick up one last customer before quitting time. Don't be insulted if the driver simply says "sorry, no," and speeds off. This just means your destination is too far out of the way. The taxi stations are mostly out in Queens somewhere and the driver will be fined for getting the car back late.
It's possible that if you have an emergency, you could offer an off-duty driver more money to take you, for instance, double what the meter says. I've never seen anyone try this to know if it would work. Likely more money wouldn't make a difference unless you're willing to cover the driver's potential thirty-dollar late fee.
Typically the most people a single taxi will agree to take is four, unless you get one of the minivan ones with more seats. If you're overflowing the back, some drivers prefer you ask first before taking the front seat. If you have more people than the vehicle is supposed to hold, you'll need to ask the driver if he or she is willing to accommodate you, and it's probably not a bad idea to offer some extra money for he or she taking the risk. Most of the time you'll need to split your group between two cabs.
Once you've gotten into the cab there is one crucial thing you need to have for where you want to go: the street and avenue intersection ("61st & Lex") or mid-block location between two others ("39th between 2nd & 3rd Avenue"). The numbered street address of the specific building is great to have, but unless it's on a major artery, the driver is likely to just guesstimate into what block that building address falls. Certainly smart phones are quickly making this kind of advice obsolete, but I still think it's wise to do your own homework.
I used to know a person with whom it was so embarrassing to take cabs because he would get in and order the driver to take us to "Such-and-Such Obscure Expensive French Restaurant, please," as if the driver should have any clue where that is. Then he would proceed to complain loudly enough for the driver to hear him how New York City cab drivers don't know where anything is. In a way, it was extra rude because we'd be going someplace this unfortunate cab driver probably couldn't even afford to go.
In some cities like London, taxi drivers must pass an extensive exam and know exactly how to get to just about every last random address in the city. Unlike the potentially confusing city of London, likely because of the numbered grid, New York cab drivers don't have to memorize every street to get the job. Whatever you think about that, it's just how it is. Central Manhattan, where most people are going, is easy enough. But the city as a whole is a big place. There are enormous stretches of eastern Brookyn where I have never even set foot, and in a car, would be hopelessly lost in five minutes.
Most drivers know the location of major sites in Manhattan, especially things like train stations and larger cultural venues, because these are the places where they're guaranteed to find fares. But some random little hotel? Forget it. Know where you're going. In the outer boroughs, it can often be necessary to have a vague idea of what route you need to take, as well.
There's another unfortunate reason why it's so important to know exactly where you're going. I'm sorry to have to say this, but the driver will probably try to rip you off. The good news is that there's nothing that can be done to mess with the meter. The meter is automatic, must be used for every ride, and it's calculated pretty well to benefit both the driver and the passenger fairly, regardless of whether you're speeding along fast or stopped in horrible traffic. But I cannot tell you how many times I've been in a cab with someone who the driver only suspects is from out of town and suddenly I find we're going around and around in circles, or taking the, ahem, "scenic route" to our destination.
Usually they won't screw around if you're going to the airport. They know you'll lose your marbles if you think you're going to miss your plane. But if you're headed to a hotel, the driver will probably assume you have no idea where you are and won't notice an extra trip around the block. A lot of the new cabs have a screen in the back which includes GPS mapping of your route, but if you don't know the city geography and aren't watching the screen extremely closely the entire time, this might not help all that much--and give you motion sickness in the process.
A friend who worked in hospitality recently made me aware of a really smart move in this situation: telling the driver he or she missed your turn and asking that the meter please be stopped. Give him or her the benefit of the doubt that it may have been an honest mistake. Insinuating that the person is a crook won't do anything but make the scene needlessly ugly. Remember that a lot of the streets do go only one way, and that the driver may have had no choice but to circle around. Getting out on the nearest corner and walking an extra fifty yards to your destination rather than being taken right up to its front door can help to avoid this question, also. If the driver refuses to turn off the meter and you are certain you were being taken on the long route, don't tip. Making a mental note of the driver's ID number is never a bad idea--it's only four digits, easy to memorize--especially if you later discover your cell phone fell out of your pocket in the cab.
And please do tip otherwise, especially if you got there faster than you thought you would or the driver helped with your lead-bullion-filled luggage. Driving a cab is a thankless job with obnoxious passengers, traffic accidents, nutjobs, and muggers. Cab drivers aren't living in twelve-bedroom mansions as it is. A lot of them are honest folks working their way through college, hardworking parents just trying to feed their kids, or retirees for whom social security isn't enough. Lastly, do not ever assume, just because your driver doesn't speak flawless English and is likely newly immigrated to the United States, that he or she doesn't have two doctorates in neurobiology from the best university back home. Trust me, a lot of them do, but those jobs aren't so easy to find here, at least not immediately upon arriving.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12e. Livery Cabs
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
GET LOST: A New York Tour Guide's Guide to New York #12c
12c. TRANSPORTATION--BUSES
While there is very little subway crime these days, especially if you're not being stupid, buses have always had far less of it. Very late at night, this is a good cheap option because you can stay above ground. They may run extremely infrequently which is more of a pain if it's cold or bad weather. Mostly I mean wind and/or rain; subway stations are not climate controlled and can be hotter than outside in summer and just as cold in the winter. During the daytime, buses have the benefit over the subways that you can see more of the city's sights. Despite some dedicated bus lanes, however, buses are a very slow at getting you from point A to B due to traffic. In some cases, I'd even double my expected travel time.
Nonetheless, buses are indispensable for traveling crosstown (east/west). In addition to the diagonally oriented Broadway trains, there are really only three places to get east or west by subway: 14th, 42nd, and 57th Streets. The only other way is above ground. Especially where the island is divided by Central Park, it can actually be surprisingly fast and convenient by bus. Most times of the day, crosstown traffic zooms right through the park, covering two avenues of distance in about half the time it would take further downtown. The trip across the park by vehicle is not particularly scenic. The park's roadways are sunken below ground so as to not disturb its peaceful qualities. The trip across on foot is what you want if seeing the park itself is your goal.
Buses also get you much closer to a lot of destinations than the trains do. The north/south buses are extremely helpful for the great expanse east of Central Park. Although it's mostly residential, anyway, this area is served by only one subway line, the 4, 5, and 6. That's it, at least until the new Second Avenue line is complete in the year 4637. The Lexington Avenue trains can require walking many, many blocks to find the nearest station. Even if you have a pay-by-ride Metrocard, transferring from subway to bus and/or back again is a free transfer. It will often make good sense to use both forms of transport in a combination.
This is a discussion of the New York City public transit bus system. I'm not talking about the double-decker tour buses. Although I've never been on one, and actually wouldn't be caught dead on one, I must say I cannot imagine why anyone uses them. I'm sure I will convince no one who is already bent on utilizing this service for whatever reason. The hoards of people pouring out of those buses wearing plastic trashbags because they're sitting on the open-air top level of a tour bus in the middle of a freezing rainstorm look so completely idiotic, I can think of no money savings or convenience to using them that would be worth it. Personally, I would much, much rather go through the trouble of figuring out the public bus system (which is not rocket science, mind you). It may actually be cheaper in the long run, if planned properly, and far, far more civilized, relatively speaking.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12d. Taxi Cabs
While there is very little subway crime these days, especially if you're not being stupid, buses have always had far less of it. Very late at night, this is a good cheap option because you can stay above ground. They may run extremely infrequently which is more of a pain if it's cold or bad weather. Mostly I mean wind and/or rain; subway stations are not climate controlled and can be hotter than outside in summer and just as cold in the winter. During the daytime, buses have the benefit over the subways that you can see more of the city's sights. Despite some dedicated bus lanes, however, buses are a very slow at getting you from point A to B due to traffic. In some cases, I'd even double my expected travel time.
Nonetheless, buses are indispensable for traveling crosstown (east/west). In addition to the diagonally oriented Broadway trains, there are really only three places to get east or west by subway: 14th, 42nd, and 57th Streets. The only other way is above ground. Especially where the island is divided by Central Park, it can actually be surprisingly fast and convenient by bus. Most times of the day, crosstown traffic zooms right through the park, covering two avenues of distance in about half the time it would take further downtown. The trip across the park by vehicle is not particularly scenic. The park's roadways are sunken below ground so as to not disturb its peaceful qualities. The trip across on foot is what you want if seeing the park itself is your goal.
Buses also get you much closer to a lot of destinations than the trains do. The north/south buses are extremely helpful for the great expanse east of Central Park. Although it's mostly residential, anyway, this area is served by only one subway line, the 4, 5, and 6. That's it, at least until the new Second Avenue line is complete in the year 4637. The Lexington Avenue trains can require walking many, many blocks to find the nearest station. Even if you have a pay-by-ride Metrocard, transferring from subway to bus and/or back again is a free transfer. It will often make good sense to use both forms of transport in a combination.
This is a discussion of the New York City public transit bus system. I'm not talking about the double-decker tour buses. Although I've never been on one, and actually wouldn't be caught dead on one, I must say I cannot imagine why anyone uses them. I'm sure I will convince no one who is already bent on utilizing this service for whatever reason. The hoards of people pouring out of those buses wearing plastic trashbags because they're sitting on the open-air top level of a tour bus in the middle of a freezing rainstorm look so completely idiotic, I can think of no money savings or convenience to using them that would be worth it. Personally, I would much, much rather go through the trouble of figuring out the public bus system (which is not rocket science, mind you). It may actually be cheaper in the long run, if planned properly, and far, far more civilized, relatively speaking.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12d. Taxi Cabs
Monday, June 4, 2012
GET LOST: A New York Tour Guide's Guide to New York #12b
12b. TRANSPORTATION--SUBWAYS
And don't call it a "metro."
If it's during the daytime, and you're traveling more than about ten or fifteen blocks, the subway really is the fastest, cheapest, most efficient way to get around. Generally speaking, on a weekday, you can get from any part of Manhattan to any other in about twenty to forty minutes on the train, depending on your luck.
For an outsider, the system can look a bit intimidating because it was built in innumerable different phases and by a number of different companies. But much like the city streets above ground, they almost all travel north/south or east/west, with the yellow line following the diagonal of Broadway from southeast to northwest.
My use of the term "yellow" is easier here but misleading. No one in New York refers to the lines by their color. It's not specific enough, because outside Manhattan the trains that share a color will often go off in different directions. Instead we identify them by the avenue they follow when necessary, and far more frequently by the train's number or letter. So in referring to the blue trains, you might hear someone call them "the Eighth Avenue trains," but more likely than that we'd say "the A, C, and E." I can't remember the last time I heard someone call them "the blue line."
Subway maps are free at every station simply by asking the booth attendant for one. The free ones are large and cumbersome, however, unfolding to about the size of a poster. If you do use one of these, unfold and refold it so that Manhattan from Battery Park to 125th Street is most easily accessible to view. Much better than these, in my opinion, many gift stores, delis, and tourist information places sell (or give away for free) a subway map that, when folded, is about the size of a stack of three credit cards. Pull it apart and it opens up a map of convenient size, and it closes back up just as easily like an accordion.
If for whatever reason you don't have access to one, there's almost always a subway map on the wall next to the attendant's booth in every station. Many will have a bus map, as well. Practically every subway car has a map in it, also, but you're better off checking the map in the station and memorizing your route. You usually have to be breathing on someone's forehead to check the map on the train car, and it's just awkward for everyone. Some stations will have a map on the train platform, but this is unreliable and they can be difficult to find.
Be aware that a train's route can be significantly different from the weekdays to the weekends. Weekend trains run less frequently and can skip certain stops. The weekends are also when the majority of maintenance and repairs are undertaken, so the trains can take detours.
The biggest risk with subways, I would think, is getting on an express when you want the local one. Express trains are extremely convenient for traveling longer distances (should you want to go to Coney Island, for instance, or use it for the airport). Not only can they easily skip the station you want on shorter journeys, but also can take you unexpectedly into the outer boroughs or a long way from your destination. Some of the trains are coded with a circle (local) or a diamond (express) around the train's number designation, but only the newer trains have this. If you're in a smaller station that clearly only has one track going each direction, very likely all the trains stopping there will be locals.
In larger stations with four or more tracks, the outer tracks will typically be the local and the inner tracks express. On the north/south lines, the east tracks go downtown and the west tracks uptown, like cars on the road. Be aware that none of this is set in stone. Don't get on a train just because it happens to be traveling on the track you want. Go by the train's letter or number designation. If the train isn't following its normal route, the conductors are usually pretty good about making announcements at every stop as to what changes are in effect.
For safety after hours, stay where the booth attendant can see you, close to the exit, or where the majority of other riders are waiting for the train. Typically people will cluster together for this very reason. Many of the more complex stations now have security cameras and emergency call buttons. Nearest to these is obviously best. The cars at the center of the train are always the most crowded late at night and therefore are the safest. The end cars are desolate and also give you only a single escape route. During rush hours, it's best to reverse this and avoid the center cars, if you can even board them at all.
Unless you're traveling a very long distance or are on an extremely tight budget (I'm talking "New York for $20 a day" tight), taking the subway after around midnight or 1AM is a waste of time. If you have bad luck with your timing, you can literally be sitting around in the station for over forty-five minutes before the right train comes. You could probably walk to your hotel faster. Since very few stations have restrooms, and practically none of them have restrooms you'd ever want to use, if you've been out drinking, this could be a serious bladder problem. And then there's the 3AM Garbage Train. If you have the misfortune of encountering one of those, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. On the flip-side, there are practically no cars on the street above ground. A taxi ride after hours will be about half the price and three times faster than during the daytime. If you're only one person, it's worth it for your safety and comfort. If you're more than two people, it's entirely worth the shared price.
The trip most notorious for inappropriate conduct is on the 4, 5, and 6 trains (if you must know, they're green) between 14th Street and Grand Central Station during rush hour. Even if you're not being violated by mysterious wandering hands, it's still unbearably crowded. Most likely you'll have a smelly armpit in your face. If you can avoid it, avoid it.
This seems as good a place as any to discuss something interesting that recently came to my attention while chatting with a friend who was visiting from Los Angeles. I have endorsed striking up conversation with locals here, but there are circumstances where it's appropriate and others where it is not. A very crowded subway car is in the second category and, oddly enough, the reason has to do with the subject of this section: Transportation.
My friend was saying how New York City comes off as unfriendly because no one talks to anyone else. He said that in L.A., you find people saying hello to strangers passing each other on the sidewalk all the time, which almost never happens here. I realized in analyzing this difference between them is that it concerns what, in each city, constitutes a "destination."
Southern California runs on the automobile. While my friend and I didn't discuss it, I'm fairly certain no one there rolls down their windows at stoplights to say hello and trade small talk while sitting in their cars. That's "transportation mode." Since everywhere one goes requires driving, getting out of one's car signals arrival at a destination. If you find yourself on a sidewalk in Hollywood, it's still on some level a destination reached by automobile. As discussed previously, that same sidewalk in New York is most often a mode of transportation, our primary one, in fact.
The other factors to take into account are personal space and the possibility of escape. Los Angeles is considerably more spread-out and sparsely populated in most parts. The more crowded a New York subway car is, the more uncomfortable it is for passengers, and the more it feels like an unfortunately necessary mode of transportation. Talking to a stranger who's sandwiched in a crowd of passengers may seem like an affront to them because they have no easy way to escape an unwanted conversation should they choose to do so.
The less crowded the subway car, the more people can sit at a comfortable (safe) distance and more easily get away from someone if they feel harassed by them. People don't tend to converse much even on emptier trains, though it does happen. The type and length of conversation you might have with a person in the automobile next to you at a stoplight--say, asking for directions--turns out to be a good analogy. One might notice a similar phenomenon in elevators, where a superficial conversation when on a longer elevator ride with only one other person feels more natural than if it's stuffed full of twenty random strangers.
To sum up, the rule of thumb I've devised for conversing with strangers is as follows. It's most appropriate when both parties are at a destination where they've arrived for more or less the same general purpose, and are reasonably free to end the conversation whenever they wish. For one more example, using this as a guide, it doesn't seem unusual to make conversation with the people sitting at the table next to you in a restaurant, but it's less potentially awkward when standing at the bar of a casual neighborhood pub.
One helpful tip for exiting the train is to make a mental note of which direction the train was traveling. As you twist and turn up the various staircases to the street, do your best to remember the train's direction. Many stations have signage telling you what corner of the intersection you'll be on when you get up the stairs. But it's still much less disorienting to arrive at 14th Street and know which direction is 13th and which direction is 15th. You'll save yourself having to double back after a wrong turn and will have the confidence of having your bearings.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12c. Buses
And don't call it a "metro."
If it's during the daytime, and you're traveling more than about ten or fifteen blocks, the subway really is the fastest, cheapest, most efficient way to get around. Generally speaking, on a weekday, you can get from any part of Manhattan to any other in about twenty to forty minutes on the train, depending on your luck.
For an outsider, the system can look a bit intimidating because it was built in innumerable different phases and by a number of different companies. But much like the city streets above ground, they almost all travel north/south or east/west, with the yellow line following the diagonal of Broadway from southeast to northwest.
My use of the term "yellow" is easier here but misleading. No one in New York refers to the lines by their color. It's not specific enough, because outside Manhattan the trains that share a color will often go off in different directions. Instead we identify them by the avenue they follow when necessary, and far more frequently by the train's number or letter. So in referring to the blue trains, you might hear someone call them "the Eighth Avenue trains," but more likely than that we'd say "the A, C, and E." I can't remember the last time I heard someone call them "the blue line."
Subway maps are free at every station simply by asking the booth attendant for one. The free ones are large and cumbersome, however, unfolding to about the size of a poster. If you do use one of these, unfold and refold it so that Manhattan from Battery Park to 125th Street is most easily accessible to view. Much better than these, in my opinion, many gift stores, delis, and tourist information places sell (or give away for free) a subway map that, when folded, is about the size of a stack of three credit cards. Pull it apart and it opens up a map of convenient size, and it closes back up just as easily like an accordion.
If for whatever reason you don't have access to one, there's almost always a subway map on the wall next to the attendant's booth in every station. Many will have a bus map, as well. Practically every subway car has a map in it, also, but you're better off checking the map in the station and memorizing your route. You usually have to be breathing on someone's forehead to check the map on the train car, and it's just awkward for everyone. Some stations will have a map on the train platform, but this is unreliable and they can be difficult to find.
Be aware that a train's route can be significantly different from the weekdays to the weekends. Weekend trains run less frequently and can skip certain stops. The weekends are also when the majority of maintenance and repairs are undertaken, so the trains can take detours.
The biggest risk with subways, I would think, is getting on an express when you want the local one. Express trains are extremely convenient for traveling longer distances (should you want to go to Coney Island, for instance, or use it for the airport). Not only can they easily skip the station you want on shorter journeys, but also can take you unexpectedly into the outer boroughs or a long way from your destination. Some of the trains are coded with a circle (local) or a diamond (express) around the train's number designation, but only the newer trains have this. If you're in a smaller station that clearly only has one track going each direction, very likely all the trains stopping there will be locals.
In larger stations with four or more tracks, the outer tracks will typically be the local and the inner tracks express. On the north/south lines, the east tracks go downtown and the west tracks uptown, like cars on the road. Be aware that none of this is set in stone. Don't get on a train just because it happens to be traveling on the track you want. Go by the train's letter or number designation. If the train isn't following its normal route, the conductors are usually pretty good about making announcements at every stop as to what changes are in effect.
For safety after hours, stay where the booth attendant can see you, close to the exit, or where the majority of other riders are waiting for the train. Typically people will cluster together for this very reason. Many of the more complex stations now have security cameras and emergency call buttons. Nearest to these is obviously best. The cars at the center of the train are always the most crowded late at night and therefore are the safest. The end cars are desolate and also give you only a single escape route. During rush hours, it's best to reverse this and avoid the center cars, if you can even board them at all.
Unless you're traveling a very long distance or are on an extremely tight budget (I'm talking "New York for $20 a day" tight), taking the subway after around midnight or 1AM is a waste of time. If you have bad luck with your timing, you can literally be sitting around in the station for over forty-five minutes before the right train comes. You could probably walk to your hotel faster. Since very few stations have restrooms, and practically none of them have restrooms you'd ever want to use, if you've been out drinking, this could be a serious bladder problem. And then there's the 3AM Garbage Train. If you have the misfortune of encountering one of those, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. On the flip-side, there are practically no cars on the street above ground. A taxi ride after hours will be about half the price and three times faster than during the daytime. If you're only one person, it's worth it for your safety and comfort. If you're more than two people, it's entirely worth the shared price.
The trip most notorious for inappropriate conduct is on the 4, 5, and 6 trains (if you must know, they're green) between 14th Street and Grand Central Station during rush hour. Even if you're not being violated by mysterious wandering hands, it's still unbearably crowded. Most likely you'll have a smelly armpit in your face. If you can avoid it, avoid it.
This seems as good a place as any to discuss something interesting that recently came to my attention while chatting with a friend who was visiting from Los Angeles. I have endorsed striking up conversation with locals here, but there are circumstances where it's appropriate and others where it is not. A very crowded subway car is in the second category and, oddly enough, the reason has to do with the subject of this section: Transportation.
My friend was saying how New York City comes off as unfriendly because no one talks to anyone else. He said that in L.A., you find people saying hello to strangers passing each other on the sidewalk all the time, which almost never happens here. I realized in analyzing this difference between them is that it concerns what, in each city, constitutes a "destination."
Southern California runs on the automobile. While my friend and I didn't discuss it, I'm fairly certain no one there rolls down their windows at stoplights to say hello and trade small talk while sitting in their cars. That's "transportation mode." Since everywhere one goes requires driving, getting out of one's car signals arrival at a destination. If you find yourself on a sidewalk in Hollywood, it's still on some level a destination reached by automobile. As discussed previously, that same sidewalk in New York is most often a mode of transportation, our primary one, in fact.
The other factors to take into account are personal space and the possibility of escape. Los Angeles is considerably more spread-out and sparsely populated in most parts. The more crowded a New York subway car is, the more uncomfortable it is for passengers, and the more it feels like an unfortunately necessary mode of transportation. Talking to a stranger who's sandwiched in a crowd of passengers may seem like an affront to them because they have no easy way to escape an unwanted conversation should they choose to do so.
The less crowded the subway car, the more people can sit at a comfortable (safe) distance and more easily get away from someone if they feel harassed by them. People don't tend to converse much even on emptier trains, though it does happen. The type and length of conversation you might have with a person in the automobile next to you at a stoplight--say, asking for directions--turns out to be a good analogy. One might notice a similar phenomenon in elevators, where a superficial conversation when on a longer elevator ride with only one other person feels more natural than if it's stuffed full of twenty random strangers.
To sum up, the rule of thumb I've devised for conversing with strangers is as follows. It's most appropriate when both parties are at a destination where they've arrived for more or less the same general purpose, and are reasonably free to end the conversation whenever they wish. For one more example, using this as a guide, it doesn't seem unusual to make conversation with the people sitting at the table next to you in a restaurant, but it's less potentially awkward when standing at the bar of a casual neighborhood pub.
One helpful tip for exiting the train is to make a mental note of which direction the train was traveling. As you twist and turn up the various staircases to the street, do your best to remember the train's direction. Many stations have signage telling you what corner of the intersection you'll be on when you get up the stairs. But it's still much less disorienting to arrive at 14th Street and know which direction is 13th and which direction is 15th. You'll save yourself having to double back after a wrong turn and will have the confidence of having your bearings.
©2012, Ryan Witte
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
GET LOST: A New York Tour Guide's Guide to New York #12a
12a. TRANSPORTATION--SIDEWALKS
Pretty much anyone who knows what they're talking about will tell you that the best way to get around this city is on foot, without question. You see so much more by walking than you can on the subway. You see so much more interesting things because the more obscure destinations tend to be furthest from busy subway stops. Unlike on buses, you're free to stop and look at things at your own leisure. Unlike buses or taxis, you're traveling at a slow enough speed to really see things and take photographs if you want.
I would never discourage anyone with differing or limited mobility from visiting here. But if, for instance, your mobility is hampered by age or some other condition, keep in mind that this city is ten times more easily navigable on foot than any other method. Your group having the use of chartered buses or the extra money for lots of cab rides will make very little difference. It's still a ton of walking.
For people who don't do much more walking than from their car to their front door, "comfortable shoes" doesn't even come close. As silly as this may sound, I might even go so far as to recommend a brisk walk around the block every morning and evening for about a month before you visit New York. You have no idea how much walking you'll do here. Your shoes should be not only comfortable, but durable as well. For goodness sake, please steer clear of open-toed shoes and flip-flops. You do see people wearing them sometimes, but on these streets? It's disgusting. Athlete's foot is the best thing you'll get out of it. Anyway, flip-flops are for going to the pool, not for grown-ups walking down a city street. Especially if the weather is warmer, it's essential to have a bottle of water on you.
Without proper precautions and preparation, you'll be run down, sore, blistered, and miserable. It's probably the one complaint I hear more than any other from visitors from automobile-centric parts of the world. Even high school students who should have infinite energy, many of whom presumably play extracurricular sports, look like they might collapse in a heap if allowed to stand still. In fact, they're often the worst prepared for it.
One of the problems with getting around on foot is that I suspect it doesn't occur to many people that there even could be a proper way to "use" a sidewalk. There is, however, and at least once a day I encounter a person who doesn't know how. Knowing how to use sidewalks properly means you won't look like an idiot. Some readers won't care about that. But this also means you won't have to deal with angry stares, comments, and fingers from people who live here. Other than that, this section is mostly for those who would choose to be courteous.
The main thing to understand about sidewalks in New York is that they are our primary means of transportation. We have places to go and things to do and we want to get there sooner rather than later. So the best way to think about the sidewalk is that it's very much like a highway. If you suddenly slam on your brakes on the highway, the person behind you is going to destroy the back of your car. While no one would do such a thing under normal circumstances, tourists think nothing of doing it while walking down the street.
Here's where the word "currents" is more literal than figurative. For the most part, the curb line is the "merging lane," the middle of the sidewalk is the "fast lane," and the building line is the "slow lane." People do seem to subconsciously stay to the right somewhat, as they would in a vehicle, but this isn't the case much of the time; it's more about the currents. If you need to stop or slow down, don't just suddenly halt right in the middle of the sidewalk. "Pull over" to the side, out of the fast lane. If you don't live in a walking city, you can pretty much just assume that you walk slower than we do. Stay in the slow lane.
This is even more imperative in larger groups. Don't walk side-by-side in a group of twelve people that spans like a wall across the entire sidewalk. As far as we're concerned, turtles move faster than you and we don't want to have to step out into speeding traffic to get around you to get where we're going. Two or three people across is about the maximum, especially on the smaller side streets which have much narrower sidewalks. Some of those may even demand single-file when passing other people.
If you're a large group of people, dividing up into smaller bunches is generally a lot better anyway: groups of two, three, or four. It's easier to get around, easier to keep track of who's there and who's gone missing. You won't be impeding traffic or other pedestrians or risk getting hit by a bus. You won't make a spectacle of yourselves. Obnoxious behavior that annoys everyone around you is a lot less likely in smaller groups, as well.
Ignore the stoplights. For any law enforcement officers who might be reading, I do not say that to encourage jaywalking. I do believe jaywalking to be a time-honored New York tradition. I also believe police officers (should) have more serious crimes to worry about than someone crossing a street at the wrong time or place. Legally speaking, pedestrians always have the right of way here, no matter where they are, where they're going, what they're doing how fast or how slow. But while that may help in court, it's not going to matter much if you're dead and stuck onto the front of a bus.
That's sort of my point. If the sign says "don't walk," and there is not a vehicle in sight, you may as well just cross. You'll get more stuff done that way. On the flip-side, a sign saying "walk" will in no way prevent some crazy driver from barreling through the intersection and running you over. The best idea, therefore, is to pay attention not to the stoplights, but to the traffic. Never assume a driver is going to stop just because the light is red. If we're in the middle of a blizzard, they may not be able to stop.
Like your mommy always told you, "look both ways before crossing the street." This is especially important for the very reason that most New York streets are one-way. Bicyclists, unlike motorists, are not legally compelled to go the same direction as the motor vehicles. They often don't, and they make practically no noise to warn of their approach. You might not think a bicycle messenger going thirty-five miles per hour on a jacked-up mountain bike could do as much damage as a car. But trust me, you'll wake up in the hospital if you wake up at all. I've come thisclose to be taken down by one of them on many occasions.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12b. Subways
Pretty much anyone who knows what they're talking about will tell you that the best way to get around this city is on foot, without question. You see so much more by walking than you can on the subway. You see so much more interesting things because the more obscure destinations tend to be furthest from busy subway stops. Unlike on buses, you're free to stop and look at things at your own leisure. Unlike buses or taxis, you're traveling at a slow enough speed to really see things and take photographs if you want.
I would never discourage anyone with differing or limited mobility from visiting here. But if, for instance, your mobility is hampered by age or some other condition, keep in mind that this city is ten times more easily navigable on foot than any other method. Your group having the use of chartered buses or the extra money for lots of cab rides will make very little difference. It's still a ton of walking.
For people who don't do much more walking than from their car to their front door, "comfortable shoes" doesn't even come close. As silly as this may sound, I might even go so far as to recommend a brisk walk around the block every morning and evening for about a month before you visit New York. You have no idea how much walking you'll do here. Your shoes should be not only comfortable, but durable as well. For goodness sake, please steer clear of open-toed shoes and flip-flops. You do see people wearing them sometimes, but on these streets? It's disgusting. Athlete's foot is the best thing you'll get out of it. Anyway, flip-flops are for going to the pool, not for grown-ups walking down a city street. Especially if the weather is warmer, it's essential to have a bottle of water on you.
Without proper precautions and preparation, you'll be run down, sore, blistered, and miserable. It's probably the one complaint I hear more than any other from visitors from automobile-centric parts of the world. Even high school students who should have infinite energy, many of whom presumably play extracurricular sports, look like they might collapse in a heap if allowed to stand still. In fact, they're often the worst prepared for it.
One of the problems with getting around on foot is that I suspect it doesn't occur to many people that there even could be a proper way to "use" a sidewalk. There is, however, and at least once a day I encounter a person who doesn't know how. Knowing how to use sidewalks properly means you won't look like an idiot. Some readers won't care about that. But this also means you won't have to deal with angry stares, comments, and fingers from people who live here. Other than that, this section is mostly for those who would choose to be courteous.
The main thing to understand about sidewalks in New York is that they are our primary means of transportation. We have places to go and things to do and we want to get there sooner rather than later. So the best way to think about the sidewalk is that it's very much like a highway. If you suddenly slam on your brakes on the highway, the person behind you is going to destroy the back of your car. While no one would do such a thing under normal circumstances, tourists think nothing of doing it while walking down the street.
Here's where the word "currents" is more literal than figurative. For the most part, the curb line is the "merging lane," the middle of the sidewalk is the "fast lane," and the building line is the "slow lane." People do seem to subconsciously stay to the right somewhat, as they would in a vehicle, but this isn't the case much of the time; it's more about the currents. If you need to stop or slow down, don't just suddenly halt right in the middle of the sidewalk. "Pull over" to the side, out of the fast lane. If you don't live in a walking city, you can pretty much just assume that you walk slower than we do. Stay in the slow lane.
This is even more imperative in larger groups. Don't walk side-by-side in a group of twelve people that spans like a wall across the entire sidewalk. As far as we're concerned, turtles move faster than you and we don't want to have to step out into speeding traffic to get around you to get where we're going. Two or three people across is about the maximum, especially on the smaller side streets which have much narrower sidewalks. Some of those may even demand single-file when passing other people.
If you're a large group of people, dividing up into smaller bunches is generally a lot better anyway: groups of two, three, or four. It's easier to get around, easier to keep track of who's there and who's gone missing. You won't be impeding traffic or other pedestrians or risk getting hit by a bus. You won't make a spectacle of yourselves. Obnoxious behavior that annoys everyone around you is a lot less likely in smaller groups, as well.
Ignore the stoplights. For any law enforcement officers who might be reading, I do not say that to encourage jaywalking. I do believe jaywalking to be a time-honored New York tradition. I also believe police officers (should) have more serious crimes to worry about than someone crossing a street at the wrong time or place. Legally speaking, pedestrians always have the right of way here, no matter where they are, where they're going, what they're doing how fast or how slow. But while that may help in court, it's not going to matter much if you're dead and stuck onto the front of a bus.
That's sort of my point. If the sign says "don't walk," and there is not a vehicle in sight, you may as well just cross. You'll get more stuff done that way. On the flip-side, a sign saying "walk" will in no way prevent some crazy driver from barreling through the intersection and running you over. The best idea, therefore, is to pay attention not to the stoplights, but to the traffic. Never assume a driver is going to stop just because the light is red. If we're in the middle of a blizzard, they may not be able to stop.
Like your mommy always told you, "look both ways before crossing the street." This is especially important for the very reason that most New York streets are one-way. Bicyclists, unlike motorists, are not legally compelled to go the same direction as the motor vehicles. They often don't, and they make practically no noise to warn of their approach. You might not think a bicycle messenger going thirty-five miles per hour on a jacked-up mountain bike could do as much damage as a car. But trust me, you'll wake up in the hospital if you wake up at all. I've come thisclose to be taken down by one of them on many occasions.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12b. Subways
Monday, April 9, 2012
GET LOST: A New York Tour Guide's Guide to New York #11
11. THE GRID
The way Manhattan was settled, developed, and used makes it surprisingly easy to grasp conceptually and navigate. It was first settled at the southernmost tip of the island and grew northward. Lower Manhattan is therefore the most confusing neighborhood. Its streets are narrow and haphazard like a medieval village, but the buildings that line them are some of the tallest in the country. It's cavernous and doesn't allow for distant views in most directions. It can make this neighborhood a bit disorienting.
One thing you can say about Lower Manhattan is that if you can stand and look in a direction where you see open sky or a body of water, you are not facing north. The streets continue in this confusing fashion up to Houston Street. This area to the north of Lower Manhattan is mostly occupied by TriBeCa (the Triangle Below Canal Street). Of some help is that most of the buildings there are shorter, so it's a little easier to get your bearings. Aside from some super fancy restaurants, TriBeCa is mostly a residential neighborhood of fairly wealthy, though vaguely bohemian folks who appreciate the area's somewhat gritty, industrial character. Unless you have the heart of a true explorer or are eating, for instance, at Robert De Niro's restaurant, there's probably no burning need to spend much time there. Technically the grid starts north of Houston, but only on the east side. The west remains ungridded. The grid spans the full width of the island from 14th Street northward. From there it's smooth sailing, extremely rational.
"Avenues" run north/south starting with First Avenue at the east. "Streets" run east/west starting with First Street right above Houston. Broadway is really the sole exception to the grid, cutting diagonally through it from the Lower East Side to the Upper West Side. Traffic runs one-way alternately north or south on most of the avenues and on all but the major cross streets. Even-numbered streets run East. Traffic on major cross-streets runs both directions. They're as follows: 8th, 14th, 23rd, 34th, 42nd, 57th, 72nd, 79th, 86th, 96th, 110th, and 125th. North of 125th is the heart of Harlem. While I would strongly encourage everyone to explore the cultural epicenter of the Jazz Age and what is a very vibrant neighborhood, I'm still getting to know that part of the city. I'll therefore leave Upper Manhattan for someone else to discuss. Street addresses start at One at Fifth Avenue and rise toward the rivers in both directions. Avenue addresses start at their southern origins and rise as they go north.
Because the city grew progressively northward, going from river to river, each of the major cross-streets listed above gives you an almost literal "slice" of New York when that part of the city was developed. The oldest are at the south, the more recent going north. From the rivers inward to Fifth Avenue, it typically goes something like this: piers/ docks, warehouses/ slaughterhouses/ factories, low-cost housing, retail/ office buildings, and high-cost residences at the center. If you imagine goods arriving by river on barges and cargo ships and making their way inward to residential neighborhoods, it all makes perfect sense. Although much has been torn down, rebuilt, or converted to different uses over the years, you can still see this today, more or less. While the rule isn't chiseled in stone, it can be useful for finding a different character of neighborhood in the search for a restaurant or a certain kind of store. For instance, if you're looking for a laundromat, you know you'll have better luck in a residential neighborhood nearer the rivers than one crowded with office buildings in the center of the island.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12. Transportation
The way Manhattan was settled, developed, and used makes it surprisingly easy to grasp conceptually and navigate. It was first settled at the southernmost tip of the island and grew northward. Lower Manhattan is therefore the most confusing neighborhood. Its streets are narrow and haphazard like a medieval village, but the buildings that line them are some of the tallest in the country. It's cavernous and doesn't allow for distant views in most directions. It can make this neighborhood a bit disorienting.
One thing you can say about Lower Manhattan is that if you can stand and look in a direction where you see open sky or a body of water, you are not facing north. The streets continue in this confusing fashion up to Houston Street. This area to the north of Lower Manhattan is mostly occupied by TriBeCa (the Triangle Below Canal Street). Of some help is that most of the buildings there are shorter, so it's a little easier to get your bearings. Aside from some super fancy restaurants, TriBeCa is mostly a residential neighborhood of fairly wealthy, though vaguely bohemian folks who appreciate the area's somewhat gritty, industrial character. Unless you have the heart of a true explorer or are eating, for instance, at Robert De Niro's restaurant, there's probably no burning need to spend much time there. Technically the grid starts north of Houston, but only on the east side. The west remains ungridded. The grid spans the full width of the island from 14th Street northward. From there it's smooth sailing, extremely rational.
"Avenues" run north/south starting with First Avenue at the east. "Streets" run east/west starting with First Street right above Houston. Broadway is really the sole exception to the grid, cutting diagonally through it from the Lower East Side to the Upper West Side. Traffic runs one-way alternately north or south on most of the avenues and on all but the major cross streets. Even-numbered streets run East. Traffic on major cross-streets runs both directions. They're as follows: 8th, 14th, 23rd, 34th, 42nd, 57th, 72nd, 79th, 86th, 96th, 110th, and 125th. North of 125th is the heart of Harlem. While I would strongly encourage everyone to explore the cultural epicenter of the Jazz Age and what is a very vibrant neighborhood, I'm still getting to know that part of the city. I'll therefore leave Upper Manhattan for someone else to discuss. Street addresses start at One at Fifth Avenue and rise toward the rivers in both directions. Avenue addresses start at their southern origins and rise as they go north.
Because the city grew progressively northward, going from river to river, each of the major cross-streets listed above gives you an almost literal "slice" of New York when that part of the city was developed. The oldest are at the south, the more recent going north. From the rivers inward to Fifth Avenue, it typically goes something like this: piers/ docks, warehouses/ slaughterhouses/ factories, low-cost housing, retail/ office buildings, and high-cost residences at the center. If you imagine goods arriving by river on barges and cargo ships and making their way inward to residential neighborhoods, it all makes perfect sense. Although much has been torn down, rebuilt, or converted to different uses over the years, you can still see this today, more or less. While the rule isn't chiseled in stone, it can be useful for finding a different character of neighborhood in the search for a restaurant or a certain kind of store. For instance, if you're looking for a laundromat, you know you'll have better luck in a residential neighborhood nearer the rivers than one crowded with office buildings in the center of the island.
©2012, Ryan Witte
12. Transportation
Monday, March 26, 2012
Ship Shape
I find it a bit amusing that I'm continually tempted to break the rules of what this blog was meant to cover--namely the visual arts with a concentration on architecture--since I was the one who made up those rules in the first place. I think the subject of this post has obvious parallels, but it's still somewhat out in the margins. I recently went to visit the U.S.S. Intrepid Aircraft Carrier, permanently docked in the Hudson River.
Over the many years I've been writing, I've learned that a surprising number of people really just love to hear the word "no" come out of their mouths. It's at least equal to the number who enthusiastically say "yes," and far greater in number than those who say "no" with reluctance. Whenever I encounter a person, organization, or institution that is accommodating with their information and resources, I often feel a kind of camaraderie with them. Here is a person who is as proud of what they're doing as I am, is happy to share it, and it only serves to boost my own enthusiasm for the subject. This was what I encountered at the Intrepid.
I had inquired ahead of time as to whether there might be a person on their staff who is particularly knowledgeable about the naval architecture of the ship. I had only hoped to show up at the right time to join a tour already scheduled that such a person would be conducting. My first point of contact, the tour supervisor, was extremely welcoming and told me that the person I'd want to speak with was a gentleman by the name of John Lyon. The supervisor asked that I let him know when I'd be coming by so that he could give Mr. Lyon a heads-up. I had a good day to visit about a week later.
I had had the idea in my head that this was a site more or less operated by the U.S. Navy. I sort of expected employees there to be on-leave, off-duty, or retired Navy officers. Instead I found it is much more simply a museum. It took me longer to walk over to the river than I had predicted, so instead of first going on a tour, right away I told the ticket desk agent that I was there to see Mr. Lyon. He sold me my ticket and directed me to where Lyon would be waiting, upstairs on board the ship.
I don't know if Lyon was still on the clock (I certainly hope he was), or what other duties he was neglecting by speaking with me, if any. I'd have been happy for whatever information he might have been able to share in fifteen or thirty minutes. Instead, he talked with me for at least an hour, if not an hour and a half. I was so fascinated and learning so much that I kind of lost track of the time. Basically I was treated to a private, one-on-one, ninety-minute educational session with their most knowledgeable guide on this subject. I couldn't have been more grateful.
Perhaps ironically, considering the subject matter, Lyon's accent was from New Zealand. On the other hand, his nationality may contribute to a certain level of objectivity with his subject matter. It's possible that their regular tours are peppered with a little bit of nationalist propagandizing (and perhaps that's what their American visitors want and expect), but I'll not speculate one way or another. The normal Intrepid tours are described as concentrating on the lives of the men and women who served on the ship. Although that's no doubt just as fascinating, it wasn't the reason for my visit. Being a history lover, I don't particularly need facts and figures to have personalities attached for me to find them interesting.
I first explained to him that my knowledge is greatest in land-based architecture so he would know something about my background. Since I'm not a stranger to at least many of the fundamental principles of engineering, I hoped he wouldn't be scared to hit me with the serious technical stuff. Besides, I have the greatest epiphanies when I'm being intellectually challenged. I was excited to see that he'd brought schematic drawings to show me.
We started out discussing the history of aircraft carriers in general and how they came to be the preferred warship for the world's navies. He mentioned something quite interesting about why the carriers were so crucial in World War II. It had nothing to do with Europe. It was because of Japan. Britain had not been defeated by the time the United States entered the war. The British still had plenty of airfields from which to launch air attacks on Germany or Italy. Japan had already been at war for years and years before their attack on Pearl Harbor. Japan had locked down pretty much all the islands in the western Pacific: Micronesia, Mariana, Guam, The Philippines. This meant that there would be nowhere for U.S. planes to land for maintenance or refueling after traversing the long stretch of ocean from Hawaii. To wage war in Asia, essentially the United States needed floating airports.
The most powerful Japanese guns were on the battleship Yamato. The Yamato's biggest guns could hit a target around twenty-five miles away (40km). The fighter planes on aircraft carriers, in contrast, had a combat radius of around 400-500 miles (640-805km). In other words, the fighter planes could reach and attack battleships well before those battleships could ever be a threat to the aircraft carrier. The carriers are typically the centerpiece in "carrier battle group" of warships, including battleships to defend it and cruisers that circle around the perimeter.
Intrepid is in the Essex Class of carriers, named for the first of them, the USS Essex, launched in 1942. The Essex Class evolved from the design of its predecessor, the Yorktown Class. It's probably inaccurate to attempt to attribute the design of Intrepid to any one person. However, an Admiral James S. Russell may have been more heavily involved with its design than others on the Navy design team. Some sources say 1940, but I'm going to trust that Lyon knows his business. According to him, they were ordered in 1939. Intrepid was built at Newport News Shipbuilding in Virginia and launched in 1943. I'm not sure why, but I was sort of surprised that the ship is so old. I guess I sort of expected it to have been built in the mid-1970s or something. Fully loaded, it displaces around 36,000 tons of water. At 872-feet long (266m), if stood on its end, it would be around the same size as the Chrysler Building. We spent the majority of my remaining time there discussing the design of the ship.
Exploring this branch of architecture was extremely illuminating for me, and I suspect the experience will only serve to enhance my readings of land-based architecture. All the elements are essentially the same, architecturally speaking, but they're completely shifted around. There's a sense of balance, but it's literal balance rather than compositional. There's structure and enclosure, but their arrangement and purpose are entirely different. As far as the concert halls that I have studied at such great length, there's the concern for the movement of waves in a medium. With the Intrepid, it's the hydrodynamics of water around the hull rather than the acoustic containment of sound waves in the air. Hydrodynamics give rise to the overall profile of the structure, rather than to the forms of its interior. It's like architecture spoken in a different language. Since I've broached the subject, here's a fascinating video illustrating my main point of reference:
Culturally speaking, I don't think it can be overemphasized what enormous impact WWII had on every aspect of life in the United States once it was over. Every aspect of the capitalist production and consumption cycle and the way consumers approached material objects would be entirely transformed as a result of the war. Automobiles are a great example because while the stylistic changes were at times merely symbolic and in most cases driven forward by planned obsolescence, the evolutions in engineering and mechanical innovations were so radical that they couldn't help but strongly affect matters of design. The entire nature of the relationship between automobiles and their drivers changed from the 1930s to the 1950s, as a result of industrial design and engineering influenced by the war.
Much the same could be seen in architecture. It's relevant to note that it was a $60-million military housing project in Oak Ridge, Tennessee that helped to make the mostly mid-sized firm of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill such a colossus. I've already discussed how wartime building processes influenced Levittown. Of course new suburban communities were built into the form of traditionalist clichés, but the processes used to build them would have been so significantly different after the war that they'd produce a slightly but noticeably altered version of the homestead caricature. The transformation of the skyscraper form from prewar to post-war--from brick and stone to steel and glass--is impossible to ignore. One might be inclined to suggest that the enormous output of the steel industry during wartime had to be channeled somewhere in peacetime or risk totally falling into economic chaos. Hence, the very prevalence of the steel and glass skyscraper could be said on some level or another to be a result of the United States' involvement in the war.
It may be argued that the primary goal of a work of land-based architecture is to protect its occupants. Mostly this concerns temperature, weather, and usually some degree of privacy or another. One might add that it should stay standing as long as realistically possible, but the main reason for this is that a structurally unsound building is dangerous for its occupants. Furthermore, if we include here the design of tents and other temporary housing, we see that structural permanence is not only a secondary consideration, it can even be undesirable in some cases. In the design of the Intrepid, in contrast, we discover the primary goal is to keep the structure standing. In other words, everything is designed to keep the vessel afloat and operational, even at the expense of its occupants, if necessary.
Ultimately you want everything safe, the ship and all of its contents. A lot of design decisions are not going give mutually exclusive results. Many others, however, require asking a serious either/or question: do you protect the crew at the expense of the ship's integrity, or do you protect the ship even though it may threaten the lives of crew members? The second choice seems heartless at first glance, but it really isn't if you think about it. If the ship is hit by a weapon, some people are likely to be (fatally) wounded. But if the ship itself is still viable, the remaining crew have the chance to survive. If the ship sinks, all bets are off. If it sinks, you'll likely lose the entire crew, or at least the great majority of them. Lyon repeated this principle a number of times. It wasn't for the sake of being redundant. It truly did explain a great number of things about the way the aircraft carriers were built.
Every measure was taken to protect, above all else, the inner core of chambers containing the boilers and the steam turbines they powered, at the very bottom of the ship. Everything around and above this core was more or less expendable.
The core is divided into fifteen impermeable, separate chambers. From bow to stern: chain lockers, incendiaries, fore gasoline tank, fuel oil, magazines, fore auxiliary machine room, two fore boiler rooms, fore turbine room, two aft boiler rooms, aft turbine room, aft auxiliary machine room, aft gasoline tank, steering room. None of these rooms can be accessed from the adjacent ones. Instead, one has to climb a ladder several decks up through tubes, then climb back down a different ladder. If the fore tank explodes, you might lose the first two boilers also, but the fire will be as isolated as possible to only one or two chambers. More than likely you'll still have the two aft boilers and two aft turbines perfectly operational. It was truly a stroke of genius to locate some of the boilers and some of the turbines in completely different parts of the ship from the others.
Surrounding this core are layers of chambers, two on the bottom and four on both sides. The two outermost chambers are filled with fuel oil, which I was surprised to learn is not terribly combustible. The inside ones are left empty. Even if a torpedo or other explosive penetrates the outermost chambers, the ship will remain viable.
The next deck up from the core, the fourth deck, is also divided into impermeable chambers that can only be accessed from the third deck above it. Even if the fourth deck is immersed in flame, crew can still escape the boiler and turbine chambers through the tubes. The second and third decks containing crew quarters are more open, but are sealed up during battle. In a battle, the crew goes on lockdown; every crew member has her or his station where s/he must remain throughout the fight, and every hatch is closed and locked. It's forbidden for any of these to be opened until the battle is over and the all-clear is sounded. All these measures are taken to prevent the possibility of fires or explosions spreading from one part of the ship to another. An isolated fire may claim a lot of lives, but it won't threaten the survival of the ship as a whole.
The second deck is the hangar deck. Between the second and third decks is a floor of armor plating around two-and-a-half inches thick (6.3cm). Everything above that is relatively lightweight and therefore provides very little protection. The flight deck is, a little surprisingly, made of wooden planks about two-inches thick. Although the wooden deck is easier to repair in an emergency, at first I found this a bit confusing. It seemed much more logical to me to have the hangar protected by the armor above it, rather than locating the armor underneath where all this valuable aircraft is stored. Basically, if a bomb hits the top deck, it's going to blast right through it. You're going to lose a lot of the planes in that hangar as a result. But there are a few reasons for this.
One reason is to keep the center of gravity lower. I'm sure these ships are very seldom at risk of capsizing. One still has to take precautions for terribly rough seas and whatever might occur after the ship has sustained heavy damage. The armor plating itself is obviously quite heavy, but beyond that is all the many tons of steel girders that would be required to build it up another deck higher.
Of much more concern are the elevators that take planes from the hangar up to the flight deck. The elevators are one of the most vulnerable parts of an aircraft carrier, because when lowered, they allowed bombs and kamikaze bombers to more easily and directly enter the hangar deck. They could also be damaged and rendered inoperable in their lowered position during battle, creating a semi-permanent Achilles Heel. As an improvement over the Yorktown carriers, Intrepid has an external lift which cantilevers out over its port side, so that planes could be brought up without lowering the central elevators and putting the hangar at as much risk. Presumably this doesn't preclude completely the need to use the central elevators. In the 1950s, an outboard lift on the starboard side replaced another of the central elevators. The last thing you want is enormous gaping holes in the armored deck, so the aircraft is stored on top of it. The armor has very few openings, and they're kept extremely small.
When the first aircraft carriers were put into use, the airplanes were the small, lightweight prop planes that didn't need much speed or runway length to get off the ground. In fact, they could lift off at around eighty miles per hour (128kph). Lyon explained that they would always turn the ship to head into the wind, both for take-offs and for landings. Assuming the ship would be traveling at the equivalent of thirty miles per hour into a twenty mile-per-hour headwind, the planes would only need to achieve around thirty miles per hour relative to the deck to get airborne. The planes used during WWII were far heavier, especially when they switched to jet engines. This required catapults to shoot the planes off the carriers.
Intrepid's original flight deck was one long runway that matched the long axis of the ship. As many readers will no doubt be aware, a plane landing on this abbreviated runway is caught--or "trapped"--by a cable on the deck. The cable is rigged to an arresting engine, basically a giant hydraulic cylinder, so it can catch and stop the incoming planes at a short distance.
During a busy landing session, there could be recently-landed planes still at the bow end of the flight deck. This means that if an incoming plane misses the cable, it's going to careen right into those other planes, destroying all of them and likely killing a few people. In response to this problem, a later innovation was to turn the landing runway at an angle facing off the port side at about the midpoint of the ship. The pilot lands at full throttle, and if the plane misses the trap, it flies right back off the end of the runway, ascends again, and comes around for another attempt. Here's a great video by Golden Zah showing a number of successful and unsuccessful traps:
While looking at one of the scale models, I was intrigued by how it was painted. I asked Mr. Lyon if that had been the original paint scheme, and I'm glad that I did. At one point, it was painted with a very peculiar geometric pattern in black and various shades of gray. He said it was designed to confuse enemy ships trying to identify its type. In profile, many of the ships look somewhat similar from very far away. But if you can't tell what type of ship it is, then you don't know what its length might be. If you don't know how large the ship is, then you also can't tell how far away it is. If you don't know how far away it is, it's very difficult to aim a weapon at it.
_-_Sep_66.jpg)
Intrepid did sustain somewhat heavy damage. During its first battle at the Marshall Islands, a torpedo hit the stern. The rudder was locked into a turn, so Intrepid limped back to Pearl Harbor running only its port side engines to counteract the stuck rudder. A couple of days later wind got so strong that it turned the ship back around to face Tokyo. Captain Thomas Sprague, in command at the time, said, "Right then I wasn't interested in going in that direction." The crew fashioned a makeshift sail at the bow of the ship to help keep it on course for home. Twenty-six Essex Class carriers were ordered, twenty-four of them were completed and launched, and not a single one of them sank.
As much as I was enjoying all the great information Mr. Lyon had to share, we'd been speaking for a long time, and he needed to leave. Much more and I probably would have been exhausted, as well. I asked him if there were anything else he recommended that I look at in the short time I had before the museum closed for the evening. He said I should climb up a staircase off to the side where some control, operations, and navigation rooms could be found, and then continue on up into the bridge.
The operations rooms were really quite spooky. I don't think many visitors realize they're there or that they can be accessed by the general public. I was the only person in this entire section of the ship. The light was dim. Everything looks almost exactly as it did in 1943, with perhaps a few trappings here and there that were added until Intrepid was decommissioned in 1974. Recordings on a loop of haunting, scratchy radio transmissions echo through the metal corridors. Then there were the rumblings of some distant, unidentifiable machinery. I wouldn't have been surprised if I'd spotted a ghost. Lyon said he'd not heard any good ghost stories on Intrepid, but he also admitted to being a skeptic.
The bridge was absolutely fantastic. To stand at the helm of such an enormous vessel is quite an experience (for anyone with an imagination), even if it isn't traveling anywhere. The rather odd thing you'll notice here is that, when you're standing at the main controls, you can barely see anything at all in front of you. The only view out is through that tiny porthole, and then there's a second window in front of that. I assume a ship this large can't really be properly steered simply by looking out the windshield and turning the steering wheel.
In a way, it's a shame the ship faces Manhattan rather than the river. Turned around, it might be easier to imagine you're headed out to sea.
Everything was all shiny brass, clearly polished regularly, and looked very much 1940s and so cool. I asked the attendant up there where the ignition was to start 'er up, which I thought was very, very funny and clever. Evidently I was the 197th person to ask that exact same question since she'd been sitting there. How she resists the urge to roll her eyes every time she hears it I have no idea.
She encouraged me to speak into the communication tubes to see if anyone would answer. I did, and I don't remember what I said, but it was something in mangled faux-military Navy-speak that probably amused me more than anyone who might have been listening. No one answered my orders.
I had a little more time to walk around the flight deck and look at the various aircraft. At the very foremost end of the deck is the holy-crap-that's-awesome 1962 Lockheed A-12 Blackbird. Its frame is made of titanium and it has a top speed of 2269 miles per hour (3651kph). I can't even begin to imagine how much the government spent making this thing. At that point the museum closed, attendants were aggressively ushering visitors out, and I was quickly losing sunlight, anyway. So I headed for home. At some point, I'll really need to go back to see the Concorde (I never got the chance to fly in one), and the USS Growler Submarine they have there.
All text and current Intrepid Museum photos ©2012, Ryan Witte. All archival images presumed to be in the public domain.
I had inquired ahead of time as to whether there might be a person on their staff who is particularly knowledgeable about the naval architecture of the ship. I had only hoped to show up at the right time to join a tour already scheduled that such a person would be conducting. My first point of contact, the tour supervisor, was extremely welcoming and told me that the person I'd want to speak with was a gentleman by the name of John Lyon. The supervisor asked that I let him know when I'd be coming by so that he could give Mr. Lyon a heads-up. I had a good day to visit about a week later.
I don't know if Lyon was still on the clock (I certainly hope he was), or what other duties he was neglecting by speaking with me, if any. I'd have been happy for whatever information he might have been able to share in fifteen or thirty minutes. Instead, he talked with me for at least an hour, if not an hour and a half. I was so fascinated and learning so much that I kind of lost track of the time. Basically I was treated to a private, one-on-one, ninety-minute educational session with their most knowledgeable guide on this subject. I couldn't have been more grateful.
Perhaps ironically, considering the subject matter, Lyon's accent was from New Zealand. On the other hand, his nationality may contribute to a certain level of objectivity with his subject matter. It's possible that their regular tours are peppered with a little bit of nationalist propagandizing (and perhaps that's what their American visitors want and expect), but I'll not speculate one way or another. The normal Intrepid tours are described as concentrating on the lives of the men and women who served on the ship. Although that's no doubt just as fascinating, it wasn't the reason for my visit. Being a history lover, I don't particularly need facts and figures to have personalities attached for me to find them interesting.
We started out discussing the history of aircraft carriers in general and how they came to be the preferred warship for the world's navies. He mentioned something quite interesting about why the carriers were so crucial in World War II. It had nothing to do with Europe. It was because of Japan. Britain had not been defeated by the time the United States entered the war. The British still had plenty of airfields from which to launch air attacks on Germany or Italy. Japan had already been at war for years and years before their attack on Pearl Harbor. Japan had locked down pretty much all the islands in the western Pacific: Micronesia, Mariana, Guam, The Philippines. This meant that there would be nowhere for U.S. planes to land for maintenance or refueling after traversing the long stretch of ocean from Hawaii. To wage war in Asia, essentially the United States needed floating airports.
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| Yamato. |
Intrepid is in the Essex Class of carriers, named for the first of them, the USS Essex, launched in 1942. The Essex Class evolved from the design of its predecessor, the Yorktown Class. It's probably inaccurate to attempt to attribute the design of Intrepid to any one person. However, an Admiral James S. Russell may have been more heavily involved with its design than others on the Navy design team. Some sources say 1940, but I'm going to trust that Lyon knows his business. According to him, they were ordered in 1939. Intrepid was built at Newport News Shipbuilding in Virginia and launched in 1943. I'm not sure why, but I was sort of surprised that the ship is so old. I guess I sort of expected it to have been built in the mid-1970s or something. Fully loaded, it displaces around 36,000 tons of water. At 872-feet long (266m), if stood on its end, it would be around the same size as the Chrysler Building. We spent the majority of my remaining time there discussing the design of the ship.Exploring this branch of architecture was extremely illuminating for me, and I suspect the experience will only serve to enhance my readings of land-based architecture. All the elements are essentially the same, architecturally speaking, but they're completely shifted around. There's a sense of balance, but it's literal balance rather than compositional. There's structure and enclosure, but their arrangement and purpose are entirely different. As far as the concert halls that I have studied at such great length, there's the concern for the movement of waves in a medium. With the Intrepid, it's the hydrodynamics of water around the hull rather than the acoustic containment of sound waves in the air. Hydrodynamics give rise to the overall profile of the structure, rather than to the forms of its interior. It's like architecture spoken in a different language. Since I've broached the subject, here's a fascinating video illustrating my main point of reference:
Culturally speaking, I don't think it can be overemphasized what enormous impact WWII had on every aspect of life in the United States once it was over. Every aspect of the capitalist production and consumption cycle and the way consumers approached material objects would be entirely transformed as a result of the war. Automobiles are a great example because while the stylistic changes were at times merely symbolic and in most cases driven forward by planned obsolescence, the evolutions in engineering and mechanical innovations were so radical that they couldn't help but strongly affect matters of design. The entire nature of the relationship between automobiles and their drivers changed from the 1930s to the 1950s, as a result of industrial design and engineering influenced by the war.
Much the same could be seen in architecture. It's relevant to note that it was a $60-million military housing project in Oak Ridge, Tennessee that helped to make the mostly mid-sized firm of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill such a colossus. I've already discussed how wartime building processes influenced Levittown. Of course new suburban communities were built into the form of traditionalist clichés, but the processes used to build them would have been so significantly different after the war that they'd produce a slightly but noticeably altered version of the homestead caricature. The transformation of the skyscraper form from prewar to post-war--from brick and stone to steel and glass--is impossible to ignore. One might be inclined to suggest that the enormous output of the steel industry during wartime had to be channeled somewhere in peacetime or risk totally falling into economic chaos. Hence, the very prevalence of the steel and glass skyscraper could be said on some level or another to be a result of the United States' involvement in the war.
It may be argued that the primary goal of a work of land-based architecture is to protect its occupants. Mostly this concerns temperature, weather, and usually some degree of privacy or another. One might add that it should stay standing as long as realistically possible, but the main reason for this is that a structurally unsound building is dangerous for its occupants. Furthermore, if we include here the design of tents and other temporary housing, we see that structural permanence is not only a secondary consideration, it can even be undesirable in some cases. In the design of the Intrepid, in contrast, we discover the primary goal is to keep the structure standing. In other words, everything is designed to keep the vessel afloat and operational, even at the expense of its occupants, if necessary.
Ultimately you want everything safe, the ship and all of its contents. A lot of design decisions are not going give mutually exclusive results. Many others, however, require asking a serious either/or question: do you protect the crew at the expense of the ship's integrity, or do you protect the ship even though it may threaten the lives of crew members? The second choice seems heartless at first glance, but it really isn't if you think about it. If the ship is hit by a weapon, some people are likely to be (fatally) wounded. But if the ship itself is still viable, the remaining crew have the chance to survive. If the ship sinks, all bets are off. If it sinks, you'll likely lose the entire crew, or at least the great majority of them. Lyon repeated this principle a number of times. It wasn't for the sake of being redundant. It truly did explain a great number of things about the way the aircraft carriers were built.
Every measure was taken to protect, above all else, the inner core of chambers containing the boilers and the steam turbines they powered, at the very bottom of the ship. Everything around and above this core was more or less expendable.
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| These diagrams are the general Essex design, not specifically Intrepid's. |
The core is divided into fifteen impermeable, separate chambers. From bow to stern: chain lockers, incendiaries, fore gasoline tank, fuel oil, magazines, fore auxiliary machine room, two fore boiler rooms, fore turbine room, two aft boiler rooms, aft turbine room, aft auxiliary machine room, aft gasoline tank, steering room. None of these rooms can be accessed from the adjacent ones. Instead, one has to climb a ladder several decks up through tubes, then climb back down a different ladder. If the fore tank explodes, you might lose the first two boilers also, but the fire will be as isolated as possible to only one or two chambers. More than likely you'll still have the two aft boilers and two aft turbines perfectly operational. It was truly a stroke of genius to locate some of the boilers and some of the turbines in completely different parts of the ship from the others.
The next deck up from the core, the fourth deck, is also divided into impermeable chambers that can only be accessed from the third deck above it. Even if the fourth deck is immersed in flame, crew can still escape the boiler and turbine chambers through the tubes. The second and third decks containing crew quarters are more open, but are sealed up during battle. In a battle, the crew goes on lockdown; every crew member has her or his station where s/he must remain throughout the fight, and every hatch is closed and locked. It's forbidden for any of these to be opened until the battle is over and the all-clear is sounded. All these measures are taken to prevent the possibility of fires or explosions spreading from one part of the ship to another. An isolated fire may claim a lot of lives, but it won't threaten the survival of the ship as a whole.
The second deck is the hangar deck. Between the second and third decks is a floor of armor plating around two-and-a-half inches thick (6.3cm). Everything above that is relatively lightweight and therefore provides very little protection. The flight deck is, a little surprisingly, made of wooden planks about two-inches thick. Although the wooden deck is easier to repair in an emergency, at first I found this a bit confusing. It seemed much more logical to me to have the hangar protected by the armor above it, rather than locating the armor underneath where all this valuable aircraft is stored. Basically, if a bomb hits the top deck, it's going to blast right through it. You're going to lose a lot of the planes in that hangar as a result. But there are a few reasons for this.
One reason is to keep the center of gravity lower. I'm sure these ships are very seldom at risk of capsizing. One still has to take precautions for terribly rough seas and whatever might occur after the ship has sustained heavy damage. The armor plating itself is obviously quite heavy, but beyond that is all the many tons of steel girders that would be required to build it up another deck higher.
Of much more concern are the elevators that take planes from the hangar up to the flight deck. The elevators are one of the most vulnerable parts of an aircraft carrier, because when lowered, they allowed bombs and kamikaze bombers to more easily and directly enter the hangar deck. They could also be damaged and rendered inoperable in their lowered position during battle, creating a semi-permanent Achilles Heel. As an improvement over the Yorktown carriers, Intrepid has an external lift which cantilevers out over its port side, so that planes could be brought up without lowering the central elevators and putting the hangar at as much risk. Presumably this doesn't preclude completely the need to use the central elevators. In the 1950s, an outboard lift on the starboard side replaced another of the central elevators. The last thing you want is enormous gaping holes in the armored deck, so the aircraft is stored on top of it. The armor has very few openings, and they're kept extremely small.
When the first aircraft carriers were put into use, the airplanes were the small, lightweight prop planes that didn't need much speed or runway length to get off the ground. In fact, they could lift off at around eighty miles per hour (128kph). Lyon explained that they would always turn the ship to head into the wind, both for take-offs and for landings. Assuming the ship would be traveling at the equivalent of thirty miles per hour into a twenty mile-per-hour headwind, the planes would only need to achieve around thirty miles per hour relative to the deck to get airborne. The planes used during WWII were far heavier, especially when they switched to jet engines. This required catapults to shoot the planes off the carriers.
While looking at one of the scale models, I was intrigued by how it was painted. I asked Mr. Lyon if that had been the original paint scheme, and I'm glad that I did. At one point, it was painted with a very peculiar geometric pattern in black and various shades of gray. He said it was designed to confuse enemy ships trying to identify its type. In profile, many of the ships look somewhat similar from very far away. But if you can't tell what type of ship it is, then you don't know what its length might be. If you don't know how large the ship is, then you also can't tell how far away it is. If you don't know how far away it is, it's very difficult to aim a weapon at it.
_-_Sep_66.jpg)
She encouraged me to speak into the communication tubes to see if anyone would answer. I did, and I don't remember what I said, but it was something in mangled faux-military Navy-speak that probably amused me more than anyone who might have been listening. No one answered my orders.
All text and current Intrepid Museum photos ©2012, Ryan Witte. All archival images presumed to be in the public domain.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
GET LOST: A New York Tour Guide's Guide to New York #10
10. RESTROOMS
A lot of cities, especially in Europe, have public restrooms on their streets accessed with a few coins. They may not be the cleanest facilities, but aren't gruesome, either, and are great in an emergency. New York doesn't have them. There are a few public restrooms to be found, few and far between. The ones at the corner of Bryant Park behind the main branch of the public library are so nice, in fact, that they've won Nicest Public Restrooms awards. Big bouquets of fresh flowers, even.
Many of the major attractions and destinations have restrooms open to the public. Lincoln Center and Rockefeller Center both do and they're free and pretty nice. Penn and Grand Central Stations both do and they're free and relatively disgusting. If you see one in a subway station, you'll probably want to avoid it unless your emergency is dire. The ones at department stores can vary in their users and cleanliness to a shocking degree. Any place where you've paid admission to get in will most definitely have one. The best advice may sound like common sense, but it's that whenever, wherever you spot a restroom that is available for you to use, USE IT. As my parents would say before we left the house and I "didn't have to go": "Just try."
My next bit of advice is information most eating establishments will not be very happy that I'm sharing. It's also a bit unfortunate that it's true. But the "Customers Only" restroom at restaurants and stores for the most part only applies to homeless people. Most truly public restrooms, unless strictly monitored by security, attract homeless people who will quite literally bathe, shave, and take care of other hygiene matters at the sinks.
This advice is really a viable option only at diners and clearly inexpensive restaurants, but the higher-priced ones wouldn't bother to have the sign in the window in the first place. I'd also use it only for minor and extreme emergencies. In other words, don't take advantage of this loophole or it will cease to work for all of us. My line, delivered in as humble, polite, and friendly a tone as possible, is "if I promise not to make a mess, is it alright if I use your restroom?" I have never once been told "no." As long as you don't look like a complete slob, I seriously doubt you would be, either.
No more than two people should ever try this at once. Don't waltz fourteen people into a busy restaurant, disturb their customers, and leave toilet paper all over the floor. If more than two people have a legitimate restroom emergency, then just sit down and order a cup of coffee or a muffin for a dollar or two. I don't think the expenditure will make or break your whole vacation budget. Then at least the proprietor won't feel that you're freeloading. If you're not hungry, simply wrap it up and save it for later. This also solves your afternoon snack problem.
©2012, Ryan Witte
11. The Grid
A lot of cities, especially in Europe, have public restrooms on their streets accessed with a few coins. They may not be the cleanest facilities, but aren't gruesome, either, and are great in an emergency. New York doesn't have them. There are a few public restrooms to be found, few and far between. The ones at the corner of Bryant Park behind the main branch of the public library are so nice, in fact, that they've won Nicest Public Restrooms awards. Big bouquets of fresh flowers, even.
Many of the major attractions and destinations have restrooms open to the public. Lincoln Center and Rockefeller Center both do and they're free and pretty nice. Penn and Grand Central Stations both do and they're free and relatively disgusting. If you see one in a subway station, you'll probably want to avoid it unless your emergency is dire. The ones at department stores can vary in their users and cleanliness to a shocking degree. Any place where you've paid admission to get in will most definitely have one. The best advice may sound like common sense, but it's that whenever, wherever you spot a restroom that is available for you to use, USE IT. As my parents would say before we left the house and I "didn't have to go": "Just try."
My next bit of advice is information most eating establishments will not be very happy that I'm sharing. It's also a bit unfortunate that it's true. But the "Customers Only" restroom at restaurants and stores for the most part only applies to homeless people. Most truly public restrooms, unless strictly monitored by security, attract homeless people who will quite literally bathe, shave, and take care of other hygiene matters at the sinks.
This advice is really a viable option only at diners and clearly inexpensive restaurants, but the higher-priced ones wouldn't bother to have the sign in the window in the first place. I'd also use it only for minor and extreme emergencies. In other words, don't take advantage of this loophole or it will cease to work for all of us. My line, delivered in as humble, polite, and friendly a tone as possible, is "if I promise not to make a mess, is it alright if I use your restroom?" I have never once been told "no." As long as you don't look like a complete slob, I seriously doubt you would be, either.
No more than two people should ever try this at once. Don't waltz fourteen people into a busy restaurant, disturb their customers, and leave toilet paper all over the floor. If more than two people have a legitimate restroom emergency, then just sit down and order a cup of coffee or a muffin for a dollar or two. I don't think the expenditure will make or break your whole vacation budget. Then at least the proprietor won't feel that you're freeloading. If you're not hungry, simply wrap it up and save it for later. This also solves your afternoon snack problem.
©2012, Ryan Witte
11. The Grid
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
GET LOST: A New York Tour Guide's Guide to New York #9b
9b. THE FOOD SOLUTION
I have a few easy solutions to the food problem. The first is that it is very, very difficult to find a bad slice of pizza in New York. I've eaten hundreds upon hundreds of slices of pizza here over the years and I think I've gotten a truly bad one only about two or three times. No matter how greasy or run down the place looks, if you see someone who looks even vaguely Italian standing in front of the ovens, I'd personally give you a thousand dollars if the pizza wasn't at least acceptable. It's a cheap, fast, filling, and easy lunch. With a smart choice of toppings it can actually be quite healthy.
The same can be said for bagels, although it is slightly easier to find a badly made bagel. If the place has a fairly wide selection of different flavors of bagels in cases, and they aren't already cream-cheesed and wrapped in plastic, you're probably in luck. A nice, big, hearty bagel can be surprisingly filling, especially with a vegetable or lox spread.
Of course, you can't eat pizza and bagels every day. Another great alternative to fast food is the delis. Delis are even more prevalent in New York than fast food places. There's a deli on practically every block of the city, except in certain conspicuous neighborhoods. At least two-thirds of them have a sandwich counter, if not more. Some others have a larger, nicer selection of food in addition to sandwiches, like an extensive salad bar. Many of them can make hot sandwiches and even burgers. Deli sandwiches are custom made to your order, are usually made with fresh ingredients, and can be fairly large (sharable, even). While they can be a bit pricey in the busier neighborhoods, they're still a much healthier, better value for your money than fast food. The trick to this and the bagel solution is finding a place to sit to eat.
One warning: as good as the pre-made food in the delis' hot plates may look or smell, don't even think about it unless you personally witness a new dish being brought out from the kitchen. Mostly that food has been sitting there crusting over and festering with bacteria for twelve hours. During that time, it's been coughed and sneezed on about twenty-five times and fingered by nose-picking children and homeless people. There have actually been studies done on it that would ruin your appetite. Diarrhea in a dish. Stick to whatever is safely enclosed inside a glass case and accessed only by employees wearing plastic gloves.
For those who don't need a huge lunch, fresh fruit is almost as easy to find as a deli. Smoothies are getting easier to find all the time and are a healthy, refreshing snack on a hot day. The sidewalk food carts offering a wide variety of foods beyond a hot dog seem to be multiplying like rabbits in recent years. You're likely to see quite a lot of them. They do require licenses, so I'm sure they have to pass certain health and safety requirements, but mostly I would use caution. The price is extremely low, but I would consider myself very lucky to get a spectacular meal from one. I did recently discover a food cart on the southwest corner of 6th Avenue and 53rd Street with a long line of people waiting to be served from it. I asked a woman on the line what was up with this food cart. She said there's always a long line at it because people who work around there know it's the best one in the whole neighborhood. I plan to try it at some later date when I happen to be hungry.
Since most New Yorkers walk everywhere, and therefore have to carry whatever food they've bought to bring home, grocery stores can be found about every five blocks or so in residential neighborhoods. If you're not in a residential neighborhood, there is a certain logic to finding one, which will be discussed later. And these aren't the enormous, sprawling grocery stores of the suburbs. They're small and compact. In addition to all the foods commonly known that can be eaten without cooking them, the nicer, upscale grocery stores will very often have hot soups and other hot and cold pre-made food. It's generally of higher quality and safer than that found at the delis, but use your best judgment.
If you're more inclined to want regular sit-town dining with table service for all or most of your meals, the best advice is to walk away from Fifth Avenue and away from 42nd Street as far as you can, preferably to the east or west. The busiest, most touristy neighborhoods will for obvious reasons have the most expensive restaurants with lackluster service by overworked staff serving mediocre food. I'm not talking about five-star restaurants here, but ordinary, day-to-day dining. Visitors who can afford to eat at five-star restaurants every day probably don't need my advice.
The further away you get from the center of Manhattan, the much better your chances of finding a decent place with decent prices just by checking out its menu and taking the gamble. These are the residential neighborhoods, populated by locals and the places where locals eat. Diners are not as numerous as they could be, but if you find one, you'd be hard-pressed to get a cheeseburger and fries for under six or seven dollars that isn't totally edible.
If you're really at a loss or are tired of looking, ask someone who works at a clothing store or some other establishment where you are. Unless they consistently bring their own food to work with them, they will more than likely have a whole roster of good places nearby to eat for a reasonable price. They do it every day at lunchtime, after all.
©2012, Ryan Witte
10. Restrooms
I have a few easy solutions to the food problem. The first is that it is very, very difficult to find a bad slice of pizza in New York. I've eaten hundreds upon hundreds of slices of pizza here over the years and I think I've gotten a truly bad one only about two or three times. No matter how greasy or run down the place looks, if you see someone who looks even vaguely Italian standing in front of the ovens, I'd personally give you a thousand dollars if the pizza wasn't at least acceptable. It's a cheap, fast, filling, and easy lunch. With a smart choice of toppings it can actually be quite healthy.
The same can be said for bagels, although it is slightly easier to find a badly made bagel. If the place has a fairly wide selection of different flavors of bagels in cases, and they aren't already cream-cheesed and wrapped in plastic, you're probably in luck. A nice, big, hearty bagel can be surprisingly filling, especially with a vegetable or lox spread.
Of course, you can't eat pizza and bagels every day. Another great alternative to fast food is the delis. Delis are even more prevalent in New York than fast food places. There's a deli on practically every block of the city, except in certain conspicuous neighborhoods. At least two-thirds of them have a sandwich counter, if not more. Some others have a larger, nicer selection of food in addition to sandwiches, like an extensive salad bar. Many of them can make hot sandwiches and even burgers. Deli sandwiches are custom made to your order, are usually made with fresh ingredients, and can be fairly large (sharable, even). While they can be a bit pricey in the busier neighborhoods, they're still a much healthier, better value for your money than fast food. The trick to this and the bagel solution is finding a place to sit to eat.
One warning: as good as the pre-made food in the delis' hot plates may look or smell, don't even think about it unless you personally witness a new dish being brought out from the kitchen. Mostly that food has been sitting there crusting over and festering with bacteria for twelve hours. During that time, it's been coughed and sneezed on about twenty-five times and fingered by nose-picking children and homeless people. There have actually been studies done on it that would ruin your appetite. Diarrhea in a dish. Stick to whatever is safely enclosed inside a glass case and accessed only by employees wearing plastic gloves.
For those who don't need a huge lunch, fresh fruit is almost as easy to find as a deli. Smoothies are getting easier to find all the time and are a healthy, refreshing snack on a hot day. The sidewalk food carts offering a wide variety of foods beyond a hot dog seem to be multiplying like rabbits in recent years. You're likely to see quite a lot of them. They do require licenses, so I'm sure they have to pass certain health and safety requirements, but mostly I would use caution. The price is extremely low, but I would consider myself very lucky to get a spectacular meal from one. I did recently discover a food cart on the southwest corner of 6th Avenue and 53rd Street with a long line of people waiting to be served from it. I asked a woman on the line what was up with this food cart. She said there's always a long line at it because people who work around there know it's the best one in the whole neighborhood. I plan to try it at some later date when I happen to be hungry.
Since most New Yorkers walk everywhere, and therefore have to carry whatever food they've bought to bring home, grocery stores can be found about every five blocks or so in residential neighborhoods. If you're not in a residential neighborhood, there is a certain logic to finding one, which will be discussed later. And these aren't the enormous, sprawling grocery stores of the suburbs. They're small and compact. In addition to all the foods commonly known that can be eaten without cooking them, the nicer, upscale grocery stores will very often have hot soups and other hot and cold pre-made food. It's generally of higher quality and safer than that found at the delis, but use your best judgment.
If you're more inclined to want regular sit-town dining with table service for all or most of your meals, the best advice is to walk away from Fifth Avenue and away from 42nd Street as far as you can, preferably to the east or west. The busiest, most touristy neighborhoods will for obvious reasons have the most expensive restaurants with lackluster service by overworked staff serving mediocre food. I'm not talking about five-star restaurants here, but ordinary, day-to-day dining. Visitors who can afford to eat at five-star restaurants every day probably don't need my advice.
The further away you get from the center of Manhattan, the much better your chances of finding a decent place with decent prices just by checking out its menu and taking the gamble. These are the residential neighborhoods, populated by locals and the places where locals eat. Diners are not as numerous as they could be, but if you find one, you'd be hard-pressed to get a cheeseburger and fries for under six or seven dollars that isn't totally edible.
If you're really at a loss or are tired of looking, ask someone who works at a clothing store or some other establishment where you are. Unless they consistently bring their own food to work with them, they will more than likely have a whole roster of good places nearby to eat for a reasonable price. They do it every day at lunchtime, after all.
©2012, Ryan Witte
10. Restrooms
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