Original Article: http://dartreview.com/archives/1997/05/07/stay_out_of_new_york.php
Wednesday, May 7, 1997
The coming of nice weather to New York City coincides with the city's invasion by millions of screaming Midwestern tourists and trashy elementary-school groups. However, during this season one finds an otherwise buried sense of camaraderie among those who live here. The only time New Yorkers are nice to one another is when the tourists are involved. The only people who like the tourists are the muggers.
Tourists turn rational, semi-nice New Yorkers into seething homicidal maniacs. I have a perfectly normal friend whose ultimate dream is to firebomb Planet Hollywood at noon on a July day. I had a friend in high school who aimed for tourists crossing the street while driving his car. In short, everything you've heard from a tourist about New York is true — but it's the tourists' own fault. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Unfortunately for me, I work in Midtown. I walk past Radio City Music Hall and Rockefeller Center on my way to work every day. The theater where Cats is playing is only a block away. Therefore, I am in Tourist Central. Every morning, when I get off the subway, I wade through sneakered throngs of people with Bible-Belt twangs and Kodak disposable cameras. I've started carrying an umbrella so that I can poke and bully them out of my path. At lunchtime, forget about it.
One day I made the mistake of trying to grab a quick lunch at McDonald's. I still shudder to think of the horror lurking within the Golden Arches on that day. Then I looked across the street and saw the Hard Rock Cafe. There was at least an hour wait outside.
I suddenly became extremely unhungry and decided to work through lunch instead. While waiting to cross the street, a plump, permed woman asked me, 'Do you know where to get ice cream around here?' Speechless, I crossed the street in front of heavy traffic.
You'd think that the tourists would have figured out by now not to ask any native for directions. When we do deign to respond, we point them in the wrong direction. It's almost Freudian. The one time I did attempt to be helpful, I ended up pointing an entire family towards Harlem by accident. I didn't realize it until ten minutes later. I have given up trying.
In all honesty, the worst tourists are the Americans. The ones from Europe are polite, cultured, and quiet. They come to New York because of the arts. I've figured out the best place to avoid American tourists in New York: a museum. They'll never go to one. They'd rather snap pictures of Trump Tower, exclaim over prices at Bloomingdale's, get cheap tickets to 'Les Miz,' lose twenty dollars at Three-Card Monte, and return to their hotel room at the Sheraton.
Why would anyone come to New York as a tourist? I was born in New York and it's my favorite place in the world. But it's dirty, rude, and dangerous. It's the melting pot of America, but also the most insular place I know. New York is a city of confusion and paradoxes, but one thing holds constant: if you are a tourist, you're going to get the shaft. You're going to get cabbies who take the 'scenic route.' You're going to get overcharged for everything. You might get mugged.
If you don't know where to go, you might as well not come here at all. Fodor's is not going to help you out. It might get you to the Virgin Megastore, but it won't get you to the West Village, or to St. Paul's Chapel at Columbia, or to Carl Schurz Park.
Today, I went to grab a quick lunch at Au Bon Pain. A minute after I had placed my order, I saw the cashier's face freeze with horror. Then I heard a pure Iowa voice saying, 'Come on, kids, get in line.' I turned around. Behind me was the School Group from Hell. Forty adolescents, all with cameras, sneakers, and maps.
The cashier gave me my bagel and said, 'I'm going home sick.' She left. I fled.
In a sense, I suppose New York would be a much more unfriendly place if we didn't have something to bond over. A wry smile from another sufferer as you're fighting your way up Fifth Avenue, or a shared smirk as you see someone trying to follow a subway map: this is as close as it gets to true friendliness in New York.
But it's not worth it.
To paraphrase Naughty by Nature (which I do not do frequently), 'If you ain't never been to the city, don't ever come to the city. Cause you wouldn't understand the city. So stay the **** out of the city.'