(Note: any reference herein to “New York” or “New York City” applies specifically to Manhattan. As far as Queens, Staten Island, Brooklyn and the Bronx: We’re cool.)
Any flickering desire or notion I may have had about ever living in New York City has been extinguished.
I have not slept in the last 36 hours due to circumstances unrelated to my present fury. All the adrenaline and the exuberance of exhaustion that sometimes accompany sleep deprivation are long since spent and faded. I am a shell, a husk, in dire need of food and sleep, yet my anger overrides and compels me to keep typing.
The NYPD did this to me. I didn’t see it coming, not on a day like today.
Normally when I drive Christie to work, I drop her off at the Newark PATH station and she rides the rest of the way. Pretty convenient for both of us, all things considered. But today, today we got caught up in conversation and missed the exit. We decided to just cruise right on into the city because there was plenty of time to get her to work on time, maybe even get a cup of coffee and walk around a bit. This cup of coffee will go down as the most outlandishly priced cup of coffee in my personal history…In fact, for the amount of money I ended up spending, I quite possibly could have purchased a small coffee farm somewhere in Ethiopia or Colombia. Coulda woulda shoulda. I’d make a great coffee farmer, I think…but I digress…
We parked the car, paid the Muni-Meter (OVERPAID, in point of fact) and spent approximately 28 minutes grabbing coffee and browsing in a shop. We walked back to the intersection of Church St. and Chambers, which I clearly remembered because of the consonance. Well, you see where I’m going with this: The fucking car got towed. A minute past the time we were to leave.
Walking in to the impound lot (located 40 blocks uptown from where my car was tow-stolen), I instantly realized I was in one of at least the top three or four miserable places on the island of Manhattan and this is where they stick all the waterheaded mouthbreather academy rejects whose only real qualifications are a pulse and the ability to keep their uniforms from physically falling off their mutant bodies as they amble about sipping coffee undoubtedly dosed with Lithium or Thorazine, simultaneously absorbing and emitting palpable hate. Now, I’m not sure exactly how many aptitude tests you have to fail to be placed into an NYPD impound lot, but the numbers have to be damn near slithering along the bottom of the charts.
What else compares to the wretched despair of the impound lot? The DMV? No, it can’t. Every once in a while the joy of a newly licensed teen driver has to be displayed and forced out into the ether to counteract the misery.
The Immigration Office? I don’t know for sure but someone’s gotta walk out of there happy at least once in a while. Green cards issued? Citizenships attained? Concrete goals achieved.
Hell, every once in a while I’m sure charges get dropped and someone walks out of even a city jail scott-free, after only a few hours inconvenience and no financial woes.
But not in the impound lot. Everyone comes, everyone seethes, everyone pays.
The waiting room is painted blue and white but somehow those colors end up being interpreted by the human eye as simply different shades of gray. The floor sticky, the wooden chairs uncomfortable and unforgiving, it instantly occurred to me that this is it; This is the place where good vibes go to die.
As I sat there exchanging exasperated looks with other victims of poor timing and misunderstanding, I began to examine the very notion of a car being towed by the police. Make whatever reasoned, thought-out argument you like but doesn’t towing a person’s vehicle boil down to being essentially theft? And by the same people sworn to prevent that very same crime? This is my property. You are taking my property in public, in the plain-view daylight with thousands of people watching. How is that not THEFT??
“But sir, you clearly were in violation of the city’s posted traffic rules and regulations. Surely you must have read the signs…”
Oh you mean the seven thousand multicolored and seemingly conflicting signs awkwardly placed along some, but not all, streets and avenues? Yeah, I saw them and I honestly thought I was in compliance. But apparently that gets you nowhere.
And are we certain the ENTIRE city is against me being parked there for literally ONE EXTRA MINUTE? Did I miss some kind of city-wide referendum on whether or not to tow my car? Were there protests and rallies? Did the people DEMAND that Elantra moved, hidden and stolen from it’s lawful owner?
FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!
Call it what it is: legalized extortion.
I used to love New York, or at least I thought I did. But you know what? It really isn’t that great. No one’s actually FROM Manhattan. Most Manhattanites are nothing more than transplants from some other city, some other country, some place they couldn’t wait to abandon and start anew in the Big Bad Apple. And I suppose that’s what it’s always been, in one form or another: A refugee camp with a skyline.
People are not designed to live on top of one another, constantly bumping into strangers and not even acknowledging the fact that they’ve invaded personal space. Just because this is the way it has happened, the way this particular urban evolution has taken place, that the city has grown exponentially in population with no space in any direction to expand, does not mean that it is healthy. Or right. Or the way humans are designed to live.
I also don’t understand the perceived and espoused ”toughness” of New York (mostly by it’s own inhabitants), especially given the transient nature of its population. I’m sorry folks, but I think you’re mistaking anger, unhappiness and an unnatural way of life for true grit.
“Oh but don’t you want to be where everything is happening? Where all the “action” is?”
Short answer: no. Even the most intelligent people en masse can devolve into something much worse, much uglier.
So really, Fuck You Manhattan. You’re no longer any love of mine. Oh, don’t get me wrong, if you have something I really want, I’ll use you like a whore and take it from you. And then I will retire to the suburbs and solemnly listen to the chirping of crickets and my own uninterrupted thoughts.
