Nightmare on 34th Street

It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

Well - at least for those of us who don’t work in Midtown Manhattan it is.

My first job in this fabulous city was on 38th and Broadway. A trifecta tourist trap: Macy’s, Fashion District, Times Square.

Needless to say, I’m a much, much happier and more tolerable person now that I work in the West Village.

As cliché as it sounds, I truly am one of those people who barely ever goes above 14th Street. When I do, it’s like I’m traveling to a different country. A different world. I can never quite fathom that it’s only a couple of miles away.

But seriously, why would anyone in their right mind get caught in the 28th - 72nd Street snare? What sane New Yorker enjoys the hustle bustle that is Midtown?
I suppose I can only speak for myself, but not I. No, not me. Not one iota.

So you can only imagine my dismay when, last Friday, I was called upon to play tour guide for Trissi and Auntie Meg. Those lovely lassies brought me tons-o-treats for my Christmas Island partay (such a brat!), so I deemed it my daughterly duty to show them around the terrifying trifecta.

It could have been worse. Much, much worse. (+5 nice points for me at least acknowledging that much.)

We saw the Saks windows from a far, talked trash on the fugly-lit (!) tree at Rockefeller, poked around the kiosks at Bryant Park, then headed on down to hell. Aka Macy’s.

Our single saving grace, our one redeeming factor, was the fact that it was but mid-afternoon. The swarms of tourists hadn’t yet descended upon the city for the weekend.
(And I do mean swarms. Like biblical locusts. It’s sick.)
Well both that and the fact that it was FREEZING COLD worked to our advantage. (I said last week that I was quite enjoying the brisk temps - it is December after all. But temps in the teens with windchill? Hell to the no thanks.)
Anyway, I count my lucky stars that the lovely company that is Penguin had the wherewithal to say absolutely not to Midtown offices. Those twice-daily battles were pure, unadulterated misery.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if no non-NYCers were let through our city gates. Wishful thinking. Sigh. (Methinks that’s an impossibility when you live in the country’s most popular tourist destination.)

You see, people who don’t live or work in New York don’t understand. This is not a laid back city, friends. There is no lollygagging. No leisurely strolls during pre-and-post work hours. No, no, NO.
There ain’t nothing worse than Macy’s at Christmastime. Well - maybe Macy’s at Thanksgiving is worse. And maybe Rockefeller Plaza wins for Christmas.

Fine, fine, fine - a compromise: Macy’s at the holidays is just plain nightmarish. And since that is where I experienced my acutest New-York-City-dwelling misery, that is what I am talking smack about today.

Oh yes, Macy’s: I deem you #1 on my naughty NO DANKES list.

Why must you torture us so, Macy’s? I do enjoy your white lights and your nostalgic take on the Miracle on 34th Street movie - but those windows? That’s what all the fuss is about? They’re always hideous!
I don’t understand. The pushing and pulling. The smashing into people, à la mosh pit. The stepping on toes. The endless stream of not-on-purpose-I-swear! picture crashing. The never-ending people asking you to take their picture.
It’s not worth it, I say! Who wants to see stupid futuristic puppets doing nothing but spin in circles? Well, apparently my dearest darlingest family does...

But seriously! What a crap trap, people! Why are you so duped! You stup’s!!

I suppose Macy’s is really to blame in this particular sitch. The silly people who stare and ooh and aah at those stupid roboticized aliens don’t know any better. They come in with high hopes, demanding to see fancy Christmastime windows and...
...well, OK...nevermind, they do deserve their ill-fated lot.
Who comes to New York City to look at WINDOWS? Then proceeds to wait in line in order to do so??? Nonsensical, I say.

Stop it, stores.

Stop putting silly little moving junk (that precocious little puppet with his hand to his head right there I must exclude - he has the right idea - ay dos mio!) in your windows and creating a trap de la trap for the peeps who live here.

Sidewalkblocks are not OK, ya hear?
When I was working in Midtown, the inescapable necessity to pass Macy’s tacked on countless precious minutos to my commute. Wasted moments of my life spent trying to push through a cattle car of tourists. All so they could get a glimpse and a pic of some horrendously ugly motorized puppets and some glizty, gaudy decorations.

Stick to the movie if you want to see a Miracle on 34th Street. Black and white makes everything vastly more appealing. And palatable.

The reality of 34th Street is nada but a nightmare.