Times Square
I love Carmine’s. In fact, I think my love for this place is so intense I would say that it borders on the fringes of an obsession (what, me with an addictive personality?). If you know of something better than the chicken with lemon and butter, penne al la vodka or the shrimp Parmesan from Carmine’s then by all means, please let me know. There’s only one problem, I hate tourists and Carmine’s is on 44th between Broadway and 8th, right in the heart of Times Square...the tourist capital of the world. Yes, I know there’s also another Carmine’s on the Upper West Side, but quite honestly it’s a pain in the ass to trek all the way up there, so my friends and I generally suck it up and go to the one on 44th. In fact, I was there last Friday night.
[Random funny story of the night: the men’s restroom in Carmine’s has mouthwash dispensers that look like your typical soap dispensers. These mouthwash dispensers are directly left of the sink (where the soap in most restrooms usually is), while the soap is on the wall in front of the sink. So there I am drying off my hands getting ready to leave the restroom when this guy in his late thirties steps up to the sink and without hesitation takes two huge squirts of mouthwash into his hands and begins washing them. As I was leaving the restroom, I casually turned back and say, “that’s mouthwash, bro,” as I’m walking out of the door. The door shuts behind me and I hear a muffled voice exclaim “SHIT ” coming from the restroom I just exited. Meanwhile I have a smirk the size of George Washington Bridge running across my face as I walk down the stairs. My moment of Zen for the evening.]
Fast forward two hours, a bottle or so of wine and about two pounds of Italian food later, my friends and I are attempting to negotiate our way through Times Square. As we slowly work our way through the crowd (the approximate population of the state of Indiana), I begin to make a mental list of all of the reasons I hate Times Square. In abbreviated form with some of the expletives removed, here’s what was going on in my head:
Why the fuck are we walking through Times Square on a Friday night? Couldn’t we have just walked to 8th Ave and caught a cab? I hate Times Square. If I see one more person with an I (heart) NY shirt on, I’m going to flip my shit. It’s not like there’s one shirt here and one shirt
there. No. They buy these shirts in packs...and wear them at the same time. Why don’t you cut out the middle man and just wear a shirt that says, “Look at me, I’m a fucking tourist!” When I die, I want to come back in my next life as the beneficiary of the person that has the copyright to those damn shirts. I can’t stand how slow these people walk. It’s like I’m in a heard of cows being marched to the slaughter.
“Hey kids, look at all the lights. Wow, that’s a tall building!”
Welcome to Manhattan asshole...now walk! Now that’s classic. An entire family wearing foamy Statue of Liberty head gear. Granted, I’ve never had a family, but if anyone ever sees me walking around with a green foam crown on my head, I give you express permission to shoot me in the face. There I’ve said it...it’s in writing, you’ll be completely indemnified.
Almost out of this hell hole, just a few more blocks. Jesus, there goes another women dressed up in a former bride’s maid dress. OK, yes this is Manhattan. Yes, we dress up when we go out, but you know what? We don’t wear clothes from our cousin’s wedding three years ago. Just because no one in this city was within 1,000 miles of the wedding, doesn’t make it all right to wear a lime green strapless dress with fluffy shit at the bottom. Will someone please tell this women she’s sticking out like a black guy at a Bat Mitzvah (or a white guy on 125th...whatever, insert your own racial joke here)?
Do you see what we have to deal with? Nothing against tourists...hell, nothing against Times Square either, it’s just this collective (and I think subconscious) feeling of every New Yorker that tourist collectively congregate in Times Square after the sun goes down. You know what? We live in a great city and there’s a lot of great restaurants and bars in other parts of the city. So do yourself a favor, take that damn foamy crown off of your head, nix the bride’s maid dress and go out there and explore the “real” New York for a change.
Cheers,
NYCDG
[Random funny story of the night: the men’s restroom in Carmine’s has mouthwash dispensers that look like your typical soap dispensers. These mouthwash dispensers are directly left of the sink (where the soap in most restrooms usually is), while the soap is on the wall in front of the sink. So there I am drying off my hands getting ready to leave the restroom when this guy in his late thirties steps up to the sink and without hesitation takes two huge squirts of mouthwash into his hands and begins washing them. As I was leaving the restroom, I casually turned back and say, “that’s mouthwash, bro,” as I’m walking out of the door. The door shuts behind me and I hear a muffled voice exclaim “SHIT ” coming from the restroom I just exited. Meanwhile I have a smirk the size of George Washington Bridge running across my face as I walk down the stairs. My moment of Zen for the evening.]
Fast forward two hours, a bottle or so of wine and about two pounds of Italian food later, my friends and I are attempting to negotiate our way through Times Square. As we slowly work our way through the crowd (the approximate population of the state of Indiana), I begin to make a mental list of all of the reasons I hate Times Square. In abbreviated form with some of the expletives removed, here’s what was going on in my head:
Why the fuck are we walking through Times Square on a Friday night? Couldn’t we have just walked to 8th Ave and caught a cab? I hate Times Square. If I see one more person with an I (heart) NY shirt on, I’m going to flip my shit. It’s not like there’s one shirt here and one shirt
there. No. They buy these shirts in packs...and wear them at the same time. Why don’t you cut out the middle man and just wear a shirt that says, “Look at me, I’m a fucking tourist!” When I die, I want to come back in my next life as the beneficiary of the person that has the copyright to those damn shirts. I can’t stand how slow these people walk. It’s like I’m in a heard of cows being marched to the slaughter. “Hey kids, look at all the lights. Wow, that’s a tall building!”
Welcome to Manhattan asshole...now walk! Now that’s classic. An entire family wearing foamy Statue of Liberty head gear. Granted, I’ve never had a family, but if anyone ever sees me walking around with a green foam crown on my head, I give you express permission to shoot me in the face. There I’ve said it...it’s in writing, you’ll be completely indemnified.
Almost out of this hell hole, just a few more blocks. Jesus, there goes another women dressed up in a former bride’s maid dress. OK, yes this is Manhattan. Yes, we dress up when we go out, but you know what? We don’t wear clothes from our cousin’s wedding three years ago. Just because no one in this city was within 1,000 miles of the wedding, doesn’t make it all right to wear a lime green strapless dress with fluffy shit at the bottom. Will someone please tell this women she’s sticking out like a black guy at a Bat Mitzvah (or a white guy on 125th...whatever, insert your own racial joke here)?
Do you see what we have to deal with? Nothing against tourists...hell, nothing against Times Square either, it’s just this collective (and I think subconscious) feeling of every New Yorker that tourist collectively congregate in Times Square after the sun goes down. You know what? We live in a great city and there’s a lot of great restaurants and bars in other parts of the city. So do yourself a favor, take that damn foamy crown off of your head, nix the bride’s maid dress and go out there and explore the “real” New York for a change.
Cheers,
NYCDG
posted by NYC Drunk Guy at 12:07 AM
<< Home