Big City 1986

  The train speeds toward the city. Lights flicker as we race through a tunnel. It's been a long ride. Normally I can sleep on a trip, not this time, I'm too excited. I Imagine how the immigrants felt arriving at Ellis island. Pennsylvania Station is my Ellis island and my destination. This is the first time visiting New York, like millions of people before, I have mixed feelings about it.

  I have a friend of a friend in Queens. I'll be staying there for my visit. The plans are not exactly set in stone. I need to make a phone call to tell them know I am here. Then I'll find out more details. First things first, I'm going to take a little walk. I want to check this place out, besides it's only eight in the morning. I have all day. They're probably sleeping anyway.

  It's busy. When I say "it", I mean everything. People push their way past. Some are walking quickly, others are running, street people play music. A "down and out" man sits against a wall holding a hat out for change. It's chaos, excitement and insanity all wrapped up into one. I haven't even left the station yet. I find a row of lockers. That's perfect, now I don't have to carry my bags around looking like a tourist.

  Exiting the station during morning rush hour is easy. Everyone is going the same direction. I blend into the moving crowd and before long I'm at street level. I take a right turn as I head out the doors. It wasn't a conscious decision. That is the way the crowd was moving. Going left seemed like an impossible task.

  Up ahead I spot a few people sitting on a two foot tall brick wall. This looks like a good place to stop and get my bearings. It's amazing how many people are on the streets. Everything looks so uniform as all the "nine to five" people march off to their respective workstations. For me it's difficult to fathom so many people seemingly playing the same role. It's as if there is a master mold that created all these creatures.

  It is so busy that I don't want to move from my spot. Then everything suddenly everything goes quiet. It reminded me of high school. The hallways are full of kids, the bell rings for class, then the corridors are empty. Somewhat spooky to see this on such a large scale.

  Food is my first priority. The only familiar site I see is McDonald's. I know it will be cheaper than anywhere else downtown. Besides I'm on a budget, a tight one at that. Inside is huge. This must be the biggest McDonalds I've ever seen. If it's not the biggest it's definitely the most expensive. What choice do I have? In the end the food wasn't that great. I can't believe I spent so much for that garbage. Lesson learned. Time to move on.

  I walk around. There is so much to take in. Nothing looks familiar. It's as if I'm in an alternate reality. I come to an area that is more open than any of the other streets I've been down. For some reason this place makes me look up and around as if I was commanded to do so. I know this place. I've seen it on tv so many times. It feels like I've been here before. It's Times Square. I found my first iconic destination. Not exactly found, more like stumbled upon. In any case I'm here and it's more than I expected the experience to be.

  What next? Standing in the middle of Times Square is mesmerizing. I wanted to leave, somehow I couldn't. A friendly black guy approaches me. Asks how I'm doing and if it's my first time to New York? He has a scar next to his left eye. Another scar, most likely from a knife, on his left forearm. He asks me if I want to get high. This guy looks a bit rough. I know better than to hang out with someone like that. So I say "sure", after all I want to experience this city has to offer. I introduce myself. He tells me his name is "Riff".

  He seems to know his way around. We zigzag up and down the streets until we arrive at a huge space in between two buildings. A fence runs the whole length around a massive hole. This hole will someday be filled with another skyscraper. At one end the fence has been cut. He folds it back and we make our way in. We walk along the edge of this cavity. There's only about twenty feet of path between the fence and this massive hole. I felt like I was at the Grand Canyon. Construction supplies are lined up along the edge next to us. At one point there is a gap that forms a large cubby hole. A few other people are here. He introduces me to them. Then we proceed to smoke a joint.

  I've only been in this city a few hours and have already found the underground. I should have been worried. These guys could take what little money I have and throw me in this deep hole and no one would know. For some reason I was not concerned. We partied there for quite a while. A little blonde haired girl kept looking at me and asking questions. One by one people started to leave. They were out of pot. I told Riff I'd buy some more. It was only fair. They shared with me. He agreed to go pick some up. I gave him ten dollars and he was off.

  Soon everyone was gone. Everyone except the blonde haired girl. She snuggled right next to me. Then she started the kissing. It wasn't long before we were laying on top of a pile of lumber. We finished just in time to see Riff coming back. So far I like this city. It's starting to get dark now. Where did this day go? The blonde haired girl goes home. Riff and I walk down to 42nd street.

  This place is lively. Tons of strip clubs. People walking around with beer covered with paper bags. I man sells cigarettes for 10 cents each. Prostitutes stop people on the street, looking for their next customer. We find a bar and stop for a few drinks. Everyone is friendly and having a good time. New York is not as bad as what I've been told. I'm not sure what time we left the bar. It might have been two or three in the morning. I'm not tired. There's too much going on. We walk down to a park to smoke another joint.

  I'm not sure where we are, but there are a lot of people in the park. They're all getting high in one form or another. We sit down on some steps at the entrance. Riff pulls out a joint. He's just about to light it when people start running past us. It's the police. We have nowhere to go.

  They line everyone up against a wall and start searching and questioning people. There is a police wagon. People are being thrown in there one after another. I'm next. The cop asks me for I'D. He sees I'm from "out of state" and let's me go. He probably didn't want to deal with the paper work. I tell the cops that this black guy is a friend of my cousins. They end up letting him go also. Luckily he threw that joint in the bushes before the cops found it on him. It's late. We have no pot. Riff has an idea.

  We walk over to a run down building. It looks abandoned. We walk inside, up a couple flights of stairs and reach a beat up door. He knocks. The door is opened cautiously. They know Riff so they let us in. We are lead into a dining room. A tough looking Hispanic man is sitting at a table littered with empty beer cans and miscellaneous trash. In an adjoining room a couple of prostitutes are sleeping partially naked on an old bed. I end up buying a couple of joints and we are on our way. I didn't like the feel of that place. I didn't want to spend another second in there. I'm glad we left when we did.

  We start walking back to Penn Station. It's not far. I go inside and locate the locker I dumped my bags in earlier. I grab twenty dollars and lock it back up. When I get back outside Riff is being questioned by the police. Then without warning they through him up against the squad car and put cuffs on him. He's yelling for me to help him. I walk toward the police to see if there is something I can do to get him out of this mess. I'm stopped dead in my tracks by two of the officers. They are arresting him. There is nothing I can say or do. I felt bad for Riff. Then the police car drives off. Suddenly I feel so alone. Riff was my personal guide to this city. In one brief moment my whole outlook on this place has changed. I feel a little depressed now. I need to make that phone call to my friends friend in Queens. They are probably still sleeping, but I better call anyway.