Welcome to Eureka Street

back to site

ARTS AND CULTURE

Not a freakin' travel article

  • 01 July 2009

Having been in Academia for more than a decade, I've learnt to guard against stereotyping. So on arrival in New York, I had not given a thought to the loud, brash New Yorker of legend. I wasn't expecting to encounter clones of Eddie Murphy, Sylvester Stallone or Jerry Seinfield.

Yet, they were all there, en masse. New York is full of ... well ... New Yorkers. And boy, are they loud!

On our first night in New York, we were content to leave the 'city that never sleeps' to its own devices and climb under the covers for an early night. We didn't expect to be disturbed. Wrong. Around midnight, we were woken by a voice. There was no one there. Was it the radio? The television? No. It was coming from the next room.

Believing the walls to be unusually thin we sat patiently while the voice gave a critique of Ibsen's Hedda Gabler. It then went on to explain the parallels between West Side Story and Romeo and Juliet, hardly drawing a breath. The monologue was punctuated by a second person's intermittent 'uh-huh'.

The oration was long, the breath control and voice projection awesome. The speaker was thorough. Luckily, they were not in possession of any insights on other Broadway shows — at least none that were shared that night.

But the walls were not thin. The critic had a voice that could penetrate 20 m of wet cement. It wasn't a unique skill in New York.

What's more, New Yorkers don't seem to have dialogues. You know, conversations where speakers take turns. It's most noticeable when they are on the phone (and they're always on the phone). There are just no gaps.

Taxi drivers are serial offenders. I'd often make the mistake of thinking the driver was talking to me and attempt an answer. My joining in never bothered them. They just kept talking on that phone as if I wasn't there. And I thought only my children had that talent.

Walking along Broadway in the Financial District we were privy to a mobile phone conversation that went on for more than ten blocks. The speaker was loud. And was he indiscreet? HELL, YEAH. If only I had known the identity of the listener (I knew most everything else) blackmail would have been almost obligatory. (But only if one had criminal tendencies —