New York's Gay Pride Day parade thumbs its nose at the city's temples.
I went to New York for a conference. First time. Here are some impressions.
My trip across the border wasn't very pleasant. When I went to the US in November, 2001 - only a couple of months after 9/11 - the border guard gave me a thorough grilling about my intentions. That was before I started writing Les Pages aux Folles. This time...nothing. They checked my passport, put me through the scanners and sent me on my way.
I was insulted. Isn't my writing politically offensive enough to get my name on a list somewhere? I mean, hasn't anybody been paying attention to what I've been saying about your government? Come on, people! I don't necessarily need a full body cavity search and a free trip to Syria - I would have been quite satisfied with a raised eyebrow and an arch comment.
It's enough to make you lose your faith in burgeoning theocracy.
After I arrived, it took an hour and 11 minutes for me to see my first arrest: a young black woman with her hands cuffed behind her back leaning sullenly on the police cruiser. Fed a steady diet of Law and Orders and CSI: New York, I was expecting more sardonic police and crusading district attorneys. Lenny Brisco would have been disappointed.
On the other hand, it took over an hour and a half for me to see my first homeless person. Come on, people! In downtown Toronto, you can't go five minutes without tripping over a homeless person! What do you do, ship them out to the poorer borou - oh. Of course. Sorry.
Before I arrived, I thought I knew Manhattan pretty well: some places stand out vividly in our imaginations, even though we have never actually been to them, because we have seen them in movies. So, for example, I knew Central Park (Manhattan) was right next to Times Square (Vanilla Sky), which was a block away from Grand Central Station (The Fisher King and, more recently, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). In the movies you never see the streets actually connecting these landmarks...
The movies lie. After a day playing tourist, my sore feet told me just how poorly my imaginary Manhattan corresponded to the real thing.
I went to the United Nations, but for security reasons I couldn't get very close to it. Worse, all of the flags were down. Fortunately, the flags had migrated to the window of the Nations Café ("Discovered: 1992 AD") right across the street. So, in the name of international goodwill, I went over and had a pastrami sandwich. Nobody can say I haven't done my bit for world peace!
As you might expect, there were a lot of cars with diplomatic licence plates around the UN. Seeing them, I thought, "Oh, don't hide behind that diplomatic immunity crap! I know you're guilty of...something..." I expected a police officer to come storming onto the street, muttering obscenities about international rules of diplomacy.
Once again, the movies led me astray...
On my wanderings, I found myself standing outside the New York headquarters of News Corporation, and I thought, "This is the closest Rupert Murdoch is going to get to having me as a viewer!" Later, I noticed that there were several electronic tickers around Manhattan with the latest news updates. I couldn't help but wonder why, with so much information around them, so many New Yorkers seemed unaware of international events. Then, I realized the information on the tickers came from Fox News, and it all made sense.
The day I arrived in New York, it was raining. I thought the city was sad to see me come. It was hot and humid throughout my stay, and it rained the day I left. This confused me. Could the city be sad that I was leaving?
Some fallacies are truly pathetic.
On my last day in New York, I went to the Museum of Modern Art. I arrived a few minutes before it opened, and had to stand in line with dozens of other people, but I was okay with that because it was *A REAL NEW YORK LINEUP *! Lineups in New York are somehow more vibrant, more alive than lineups in other cities. While I was standing in line, for the first time in my life, I was shit on by a bird. Hit me right on the arm. My first reaction was anger, but then I was honoured because I had been hit with * AUTHENTIC NEW YORK BIRD SHIT *!
At that point, I realized I was delirious, and that it was probably time to go home.
The truth is, I had a great time in New York; the Americans I met were terrific people. In fact, the trip reminded me that I have never met an American I didn't personally like. Of course, those who cannot make the distinction between the government and the people will dismiss this observation (anti-American statements = 3,l24, pro-American statements = 1, ergo Ira = an idiot). I like to think my readers are more appreciative of nuance than that.
Especially the ones who live in New York.
