There is a reason cultural icons from Frank Sinatra to Jay Z have enjoyed chart-topping success performing tunes about New York City.
For the sake of making a dramatic entry, I had booked an evening flight into La Guardia. This was, after all, Ben's first visit to Manhattan. As expected, Gotham did not disappoint. We descended toward an obscure conglomeration of clustered light; a view of which I shall never tire.
From altitude and at night, greater New York City brings to mind an oversized diagram of a neuron. Manhattan radiates the brightest, as the nucleus. The surrounding central business districts appear as the cell body, oblong and contorted. Bright, axon-like highways and interstate exchanges criss-cross and snake across the scene, connecting one super lit borough to another, eventually branching out smaller and smaller into dendrite access to the suburbs.
This neat and precise schema ended abruptly at water's edge - no man's land, from our nighttime altitude. The shorelines and waterways of greater New York City were immediately discernible as patches of black. Barely a light penetrated, save the occasional utilitarian spark of a water vessel.
The design was meticulous, the engineering flawless. Everything about the correlation hinted of an unhindered, free-flow exchange of people and material. Yet, as I gazed down from above I got the same feeling I always do - it all looks so fragile.
As the airliner descended, nearing terra firma, obscurity gave way to clarity. "There" - I pointed, my fingertip leaving its mark on the porthole, "You can make out Midtown. Look down and to the right, where the city meets the river. That tall building is where my sister lives; that's where we'll be staying."
Throughout the cabin I could hear passengers oohing the view, and why not? The nocturnal light show grew larger. I could now discern individual city blocks, with automobiles flitting back and forth. This great city, with her skyscrapers, bridges, parks and thoroughfares, appears so fragile at altitude. I was glad to descend. Man-made grandeur is much more evident at the street level.
My sister met us at the gate. We grabbed our luggage and proceeded to the airport taxi ramp. Neither my sister nor her boyfriend owns an automobile, and why should they? Public transportation in the megalopolis is efficient at a level that negates the freedom typically associated with the car.
I never tire of visiting New York City. I smiled as the cab driver threw his vehicle into the fray. There is symmetry here, chaotic at first glance, but it works. Traffic pounds along, accepting incoming vehicles and spitting out others; oftentimes with little more than inches separating the steel bodies. We speed through yellow lights, cut across lanes, and weave through herds of pedestrians in a way that only seems reckless until one considers the necessity of it all. One small island, crowded with 1.6 million human bodies. It has to be chaotic, in order to work.
Of course, the greatest delight was to present this experience to someone for the first time. Ben craned his neck, trying to take in the sensory overload as we pointed out icons. He would have three days' time to check out the city, which in reality amounts to little more than a taste. Still, with three full days to spend in New York City, Ben would be able to see enough to walk away with an experience, rather than a photo op.
Our first destination was simple - dinner. I have been told that the restaurant turnover rate in Manhattan is so high, that you could eat three meals - breakfast, lunch, and dinner - each at a different place every day, for the rest of your life, and not run out of new places to try. Even so, there are some iconic New York destinations that should not be missed. Our first visit was to a place called P.J. Clarke's.
P.J. Clarke's first opened in 1884, and little has changed in this brick saloon since. Simply put, this is the type of place that will never go out of style. P.J.'s is featured regularly in the TV series "Mad Men," and has been frequented by the likes of Frank Sinatra, Elizabeth Taylor and Jackie Kennedy, among others. For interesting quirks, look for the human leg bones, stuffed dog, and broken pay phone.
For food, you cannot go wrong ordering a burger, as most patrons do. Mine was simple and slightly Australian, with a fried egg and sliced avocado, cooked to order - medium rare. The most-ordered item on P.J.'s menu is the medium-rare bacon cheeseburger, once penned "the Cadillac of burgers" by singer Nat King Cole.
I grew up eating burgers made from homegrown beef, so to find a joint that offers such an especially prepared classic American comfort food is nothing short of noteworthy. Think also Pancho and Lefty's on Monroe's Square.
In another appropriate introduction to America, P.J. Clarke's serves Yuengling lager, from the oldest brewery in the United States. Originally founded in 1829, Yuengling is three-quarters of a century older than Australia and, as we joked to Ben, has "far more flavor."
It was late into the evening as we made our way back to my sister's apartment, the skyscrapers towering above. You'd have hardly believed it was a weeknight; the lights were on, businesses thriving. Ben said it best:
"Wow - this really is the City That Never Sleeps."
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
For the sake of making a dramatic entry, I had booked an evening flight into La Guardia. This was, after all, Ben's first visit to Manhattan. As expected, Gotham did not disappoint. We descended toward an obscure conglomeration of clustered light; a view of which I shall never tire.
From altitude and at night, greater New York City brings to mind an oversized diagram of a neuron. Manhattan radiates the brightest, as the nucleus. The surrounding central business districts appear as the cell body, oblong and contorted. Bright, axon-like highways and interstate exchanges criss-cross and snake across the scene, connecting one super lit borough to another, eventually branching out smaller and smaller into dendrite access to the suburbs.
This neat and precise schema ended abruptly at water's edge - no man's land, from our nighttime altitude. The shorelines and waterways of greater New York City were immediately discernible as patches of black. Barely a light penetrated, save the occasional utilitarian spark of a water vessel.
The design was meticulous, the engineering flawless. Everything about the correlation hinted of an unhindered, free-flow exchange of people and material. Yet, as I gazed down from above I got the same feeling I always do - it all looks so fragile.
As the airliner descended, nearing terra firma, obscurity gave way to clarity. "There" - I pointed, my fingertip leaving its mark on the porthole, "You can make out Midtown. Look down and to the right, where the city meets the river. That tall building is where my sister lives; that's where we'll be staying."
Throughout the cabin I could hear passengers oohing the view, and why not? The nocturnal light show grew larger. I could now discern individual city blocks, with automobiles flitting back and forth. This great city, with her skyscrapers, bridges, parks and thoroughfares, appears so fragile at altitude. I was glad to descend. Man-made grandeur is much more evident at the street level.
My sister met us at the gate. We grabbed our luggage and proceeded to the airport taxi ramp. Neither my sister nor her boyfriend owns an automobile, and why should they? Public transportation in the megalopolis is efficient at a level that negates the freedom typically associated with the car.
I never tire of visiting New York City. I smiled as the cab driver threw his vehicle into the fray. There is symmetry here, chaotic at first glance, but it works. Traffic pounds along, accepting incoming vehicles and spitting out others; oftentimes with little more than inches separating the steel bodies. We speed through yellow lights, cut across lanes, and weave through herds of pedestrians in a way that only seems reckless until one considers the necessity of it all. One small island, crowded with 1.6 million human bodies. It has to be chaotic, in order to work.
Of course, the greatest delight was to present this experience to someone for the first time. Ben craned his neck, trying to take in the sensory overload as we pointed out icons. He would have three days' time to check out the city, which in reality amounts to little more than a taste. Still, with three full days to spend in New York City, Ben would be able to see enough to walk away with an experience, rather than a photo op.
Our first destination was simple - dinner. I have been told that the restaurant turnover rate in Manhattan is so high, that you could eat three meals - breakfast, lunch, and dinner - each at a different place every day, for the rest of your life, and not run out of new places to try. Even so, there are some iconic New York destinations that should not be missed. Our first visit was to a place called P.J. Clarke's.
P.J. Clarke's first opened in 1884, and little has changed in this brick saloon since. Simply put, this is the type of place that will never go out of style. P.J.'s is featured regularly in the TV series "Mad Men," and has been frequented by the likes of Frank Sinatra, Elizabeth Taylor and Jackie Kennedy, among others. For interesting quirks, look for the human leg bones, stuffed dog, and broken pay phone.
For food, you cannot go wrong ordering a burger, as most patrons do. Mine was simple and slightly Australian, with a fried egg and sliced avocado, cooked to order - medium rare. The most-ordered item on P.J.'s menu is the medium-rare bacon cheeseburger, once penned "the Cadillac of burgers" by singer Nat King Cole.
I grew up eating burgers made from homegrown beef, so to find a joint that offers such an especially prepared classic American comfort food is nothing short of noteworthy. Think also Pancho and Lefty's on Monroe's Square.
In another appropriate introduction to America, P.J. Clarke's serves Yuengling lager, from the oldest brewery in the United States. Originally founded in 1829, Yuengling is three-quarters of a century older than Australia and, as we joked to Ben, has "far more flavor."
It was late into the evening as we made our way back to my sister's apartment, the skyscrapers towering above. You'd have hardly believed it was a weeknight; the lights were on, businesses thriving. Ben said it best:
"Wow - this really is the City That Never Sleeps."
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
