New York City is a place of – everything. I’m not going to list them all because I’m 21 and probably have 21 more years to go. But New York has everything. Think of something. What did you think of? Strip clubs. That’s the first thing you thought of. Well, NYCs got that and everything else your perverted mind thought of. So NYC is a place of everything – for example, writers and filmmakers. New York City is so rich in history and has so many different meanings to its 8 million people. So many writers and filmmakers have tried to capture everything NYC is about in writing and films, but this is impossible despite what the new Muhammad Ali advertisement claims. With that said, I think Grand Central is a great place that illustrates much of what NYC is about. Grand Central – Terminal, not Station because I read, “Grand Central is the place were the train lines originate and terminate” (NYC Tourist – Grand Central Terminal 1). Grand Central is the place where many New Yorkers or visitors begin and end their day. Over 150,000 people use the terminal a day (NYC Tourist – Grand Central Terminal 1) and over 500,000 visit the place (History Channel). Any type of person can be found there. All races – blacks, whites, Hispanics, Asians, whites who think they’re black (Vanilla Ice types) and blacks who think they’re white (Byrant Gumbel types). You can find Wall Street look-a-likes wearing their long pee jackets along with the New York Times reading, stinky smelling, headphone listening while acting the rapper, Fundraising impersonator and on the wrong train expressionator – that’s me and has been every new New Yorker. We will take a closer look at some of the types later, but first in case you don’t know – what is Grand Central?

Grand Central opened in 1913 and was designed by the architects, Warren and Wetmore (History Channel). This changed New York forever as it caused hotels, restaurants and apartments to be built nearby. It is located at 42nd Street to 44th Street between Vanderbilt and the Lexington Avenues (Midtown Book 1). This is in the center of Manhattan and Grand Central became the main transportation source in New York City. In 1978, some people tried to get the terminal destroyed to open up an office tower; however, the Supreme Court declared Grand Central Terminal as a national landmark and G.C. is here to stay (History Channel). During the 1970’s and 1980’s, the terminal was being poorly kept and conditions were horrible. Professor Murray, a teacher at Manhattville College, said that you would go into the terminal in the morning for work with a white shirt on and come home with a black shirt. However, in 1994 a huge renovation of Grand Central began and just recently was completed. The renovation cost $100 million (Midtown Book). In 2004, Grand Central remains; otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to get to class tomorrow. Today it is the most visited landmark in the United States (History Channel).

Now let’s enter the center that is so grand. “The Main Concourse” is where all the travelers enter or leave New York. The trains use to travel across the U.S., but now travel to Westchester, NY and northern to Connecticut (I hear that Garrett Kennedy fellow is from there. What a guy). The Main Concourse has a huge board that tells travelers when trains are leaving for such places as White Plains, NY or New Haven, CT. Grand Central also offers the 4, 5, 6 and 7 trains that travel throughout NYC and the S (shuttle), which goes directly to Times Square (46th Street).

Grand Central has everything you need: transportation, Chase Bank, Rite Aid, Starbucks and the Banana Republic just in case you need a suit while traveling to Times Square. It also has endless amounts of food, such as, Michael Jordan’s The Steak House N.Y.C., the Oyster Bar & Restaurant and Central Market. No wonder you see so many people sleeping on the ground in Grand Central. It has everything. Why leave? And they call these people bums. They’re just smart. Grand Central is a great place.

What else is G.C. like? Are you aware of the gold metal award winning Olympian, Michael Johnson? He’s a track star. Something tells me he trained here (trained ha ha – at a train station/terminal! – not funny). You will never see faster walkers than in Grand Central – maybe it’s conditioning for the NYC streets they will be walking. If speed walking were an Olympic event U.S. would have the gold locked because of New Yorkers. This is most evident in Grand Central when the Shuttle coming from Times Square has its doors opened. It’s like the sound of the gun and the runners are off. However, most don’t run. They walk with their hands raised over their heads. These people look like the walkers on the Brooklyn Bridge I’ve witnessed. They’re exercising, but can’t quite exercise enough to lift their legs to run so they look like idiots with their arms running, but their legs walking.

You will always see people with luggage on wheels attempting this style of walking. It’s too often rush hour and for many people in the working class this means rushing home time. For me, it’s rushing to see the next Seinfeld at 6:30, 7 and 7:30. I’m walking fast, but in control unlike this lady with luggage on wheels. One of the wheels is flat (you have to pump those?) so she can’t walk in a straight line. Maybe she is drunken lady with luggage on wheels. Either way, she is in my way and I now have missed the shuttle that goes to Times Square. The result is I miss the first Seinfeld show and the first ten minutes of the next. Thanks luggage on wheels. I hate these people. Wait. Hate is a strong word. I dislike them very much and you can find them all over Grand Central.

Where are these people racing off to? Well, that gentleman over there has an oversized pee-jacket on so he must be racing off to catch the 4, 5 or 6 train to Wall Street for an important business meeting. The lady with the classy purse, too much make-up on and short skirt, who just tripped because of her uncomfortable, yet fashionable, high heels must be going to work at the strip club you were thinking of earlier; however, there is another 100 women dressed the same throughout Grand Central and 4 million more throughout NYC. Then there is the crime preventing NYPD, in a crowd, chatting about the last crime they actually prevented in the mid-90’s. In the midst of all the commotion of people walking to and from the train stations, off to their destinations, this boy and girl are lost in the moment kissing. Maybe it’s Sunday and these two are experiencing “A Sunday Kind of Love” (Tom Wolfe).

Behind the two lost lovers, music is playing in the distance. One of the greatest aspects of Grand Central is the constant music to be heard. This isn’t in the Main Concourse though. Get off any of the trains – the Shuttle, 4, 5 or 6 and you will have to walk a distance to get to the main concourse. Most people walk too fast to appreciate the entertainment along the way; however, I’ve noticed –


“The Music of Grand Central”...

Not only is it the music generated from the musicians’ drums, saxophones or voices, but from souls that traveled miles from across the United States to be heard in New York City. Most are not heard, but something made me want to understand how a person decided to play for the passerby’s in Grand Central. Some are obvious bums who have only one objective – to bum a dollar off you so they can continue to be a bum. Then there are others who look a little cleaner and therefore a little more musically accepted. Yet, these are just some assumptions I’ve and you’ve made while trying to catch the next 2 or 3 train to downtown Brooklyn or uptown to catch the latest Broadway play or whatever. It doesn’t matter where you’re going. Nobody cares about the musicians’ of Grand Central and neither do I. Although, I have made you think or will make you think about these people the next time you walk past the obvious bum you have seen many times wearing his Guitar – where’d the money come from to pay for that. Here’s a dollar. Go buy a drummer boy and make a band. I bet you have more talent than those on 46th Street, except if you aren’t in the TRL rotation, you’re music is a wasting – it doesn’t exist; yet, I hear you, and remember - there isn’t a Broadway to everyone’s success, as I’m sure poet and writer, Langston Hughes would attest to.
During the 1920’s, there was the Harlem Renaissance that captured the innovations of new books, music and dancing from black people in Manhattan. I can hear Hurston’s “Story in Harlem Slang” already beginning as blacks talked different (ly). Whites caught on to this different way of talking, dancing, writing and singing. This period is described by Langston Hughes as “When the Negro Was in Vogue”. However, more whites became interested and blacks changed their art forms to amuse whites. This was the 1920’s version of creating music just to get on MTV’s TRL. I’m sure there were many who didn’t sell-out during the Harlem Renaissance, but they weren’t heard just like the “Musicians of Grand Central”. This doesn’t mean they didn’t have talent and proves there isn’t a Broadway to everyone’s success.

This is very similar to most people. Most people aren’t on 46th Street or for that matter in New York at all. Those who do live in NY don’t know the other New Yorkers, but for some reasons, well many, people want to be in N.Y. For some reason the musicians decided to play in G.C. I will address why so many come to NYC and why I chose to later. Now let’s cover what else Grand Central is about.

Well, Grand Central is a train station/terminal! What is it like riding the trains? Let’s focus on the people because the people make up NYC. First off, you never see celebrities on these trains because most people aren’t celebrities and celebrities don’t make up NYC even though so many people come to NYC to become celebrities. These are the people that make up NYC: A perfect example is me. College students are all over and you can see them ride the trains. They’re the ones with the backpacks and college sweatshirts that read, “Manhattanville” or “NYU” or “St. John’s”.

Let’s dodge the crowded people standing up hanging on the poles and try to find a seat. None in this car. I see plenty in the next. A whole row almost empty! Except for the smelly bum that is past out. I’ll sit next to him as long as there’s a basketball hoop length between us (10 feet). Bums. I’ve mentioned them before. I was on the train once and a bum was sitting with his head in his lap (the Harlem Slang might say – he was just chillin’). He seemed pleasant, but I suddenly heard a thud. His head hit the floor of the train. Ouch! This didn’t faze him. His knees were buckled with his forehead against the dirty floor. He laid there for five minutes and finally this lady tried to help him up. She said to the other people, “I don’t want him to miss his stop.” Lady, his stop was back in the 80’s when crack burst on the scene. Then he stopped caring. Or maybe he does have a stop and if so he is the bum that played the role of the drug addict in William S. Burroughs’ story, “From Junky”. This bum gets off at 103rd Broadway and waits for “the man” while that Velvet Underground Song (“Waiting for the Man”) plays in his vein.

There are more types of bums, similar to the musicians of G.C., that look a lil’ cleaner. The ones on the train don’t play an instrument. They either announce to the people they need money or they sell batteries. “May I have your attention ladies and gentlemen? I will cause no harm. I’m just trying to get back on my feet (he says this while on his feet – wait – he’s got Jordan’s on). I’m a good person. I don’t rob, steal or take drugs. Can I please get some change? Anything will do. A quarter, penny, nickel, dime [or dime bag]. Thank you and God bless.” I’ve only given change once. Part of me feels bad for not giving, but then one time this lady bum walked up and just put her hands out. So I slapped her five and got off the 4-train at Borough Hall and hopped on the 2-train. The battery man was there. I’ve seen the same guy many times. He claims he’s got the good stuff. “These are the real deal. I’ve got Duracell batteries. No imitations. The ones that are long lasting with the bunny. I sell them for a dollar. The stores sell them for two. Again, these are the batteries of the bunny”. Where does he get these batteries? And then there’s the kids who say, “I’m not selling these peanut M&Ms for no basketball team. I’m just trying to make some money and stay out of trouble.” Where do the M&Ms come from? All these questions that NYC makes you think of.

Other people on the train: There is the Bible packer who claims Armageddon is coming; There is the cute girl I keep making eye contact with, but I won’t say anything. She leaves the train and we’ll never see each other again. Then there are the people who you make eye contact with that you really don’t want to look at, but they’re so ugly that you have to keep glancing and you play peek-a-boo until one of you gets off the train. Plus, how many times can I keep reading the Dunkin’ Donuts Ad for the new flavored café latte so I have to resort to starring. You will also come across nice people and assholes. For example, the nice people let the women sit. The assholes are the people who don’t move when you’re trying to get off the train. They are also the people that you accidentally bump into because the train is shaking and they look at you like, “What the fuck. I’ve never bumped into anybody.” Next up, you will see either the true Yankee fan or the posing Yankee fan in their red hats and jerseys – I bet they were the ones who booed Jeter the other day. There will always be a dude waiting for the doors to open on the wrong side (that’s me once again. It’s been you too).

Once you are situated in the train you do the peek-a-boo thing, bob your head to the music or read something. I’m most of the time the peek-a-boo type. If you’re like me, you will look at all the people in the train. I’ve never seen so many ugly and beautiful people in my life (mostly ugly – Harlem slang – fugly). There’re the balds and the too hairy, and the should be balds and shouldn’t be balds. There is nothing more I hate than seeing a black man with a receding hairline. How dare him. Black men look good bald – not us Irish folks. You notice this type of thing while riding New York trains. Next up are the bobbing head types that are usually black or African American – they should elect what they want to be called. You will often see them with headphones listening to rap music and reciting the words out loud - it’s pretty loud too because he can’t hear what he says with the headphones on. I don’t get the impression he cares, for example he recites, “So you think you’re going to cross me and mess with my shit, opening you trap and flapping you lip, don’t mess with me or your dropped, I’ll snap your neck off with a crackle and pop” (Curb Your Enthusiasm – Crazy Eyez Killah). And then there’re the readers. I’ve heard we are a nation that doesn’t read anymore. All of a sudden, on the subway and read, read, read. It’s like reading on the Subway is fashionable. Maybe they’re like the walkers and are in an extreme rush to gain knowledge. But there’re the people that just simply enjoy reading – it just so happens they are riding the train.

What else does your train ride consist of? Well, NYC is the Mecca for advertisements and you won’t escape them on the trains. You have all types of advertisements. You can’t miss the Anna Nichole Smith posters about her great comeback – “She’s lost 50lbs”. You’ll see them then quickly look away. Yes, she has lost weight, but she must keep grinding – “At least 50 lbs to go!” I’ve also seen and read ads for, “Learn English” - written in English? The person who created that ad is not the person racing to obtain knowledge.
Back to the question of where are all the train riders that pass through Grand Central are off to? I mentioned the businessman off to Wall Street, the woman of to the strip club and the bum who doesn’t have a stop. Maybe some are actually getting off at Wall Street to be like Donald Trump while others might actually be off to Times Square to be the next Carson Daily or maybe they’re those crazed fans that cheer for musicians outside the MTV building like they have never seen a person quite like Britney Spears before – she’s a person. Get over it. Maybe they’re headed to the Bronx to see the bombers (Yankees) play – don’t say bomb or even write bomb in the post 9/11 era. Maybe some people are off to see Ground Zero and others are off to experience the nightlife; the “scenes” everyone raves about (Tom Wolfe describes Fri. and Sat. nights in NYC as scenes).

Yeah - Grand Central captures lots of what NYC is about and includes the people I’ve already described, but unless you follow these people and see their lives they all just become figments. The majority of these people aren’t what I’ve described – Wall Street brokers, strippers, bums or wannabee-celebrities. There’re two categories of people left: People who actually live in NYC and those who get what they want and leave (visitors). I certainly fit in the category of visitors. Give me my 15 college credits and a couple of Friday and Saturday night “scenes” and I’m gone while there’re people who actually were born and live their whole lives in NYC. This reminds me of Edmund Wilson’s story, “Thoughts of Leaving New York for New Orleans”. “In Harlem, the whites come to visit Negroes in the hope of enjoying among them a little cooler and warmth; and the Negroes are making an effort to live as much as possible like the whites (Writing New York - Wilson 478).” I don’t believe the whites truly come to visit the Negroes, but come to vacation or party in areas where the Negroes live and possibly struggle to pay the rent; struggle to survive while it’s fun time for us white folks. This seems fucked up and I’ve heard many Negroes complain about this; however, many of the same Negroes who struggle to survive, or to be successful, strive to live like whites as if that is a measurement of success. New York City is a great place to witness this. In 2004, it isn’t always just the white people doing the visiting. More and more people flock to NYC. Why?

Marianne Moore nails the above question in her poem, “New York”. Simply put, everyone comes to NYC because of the “accessibility to experience” (Writing New York – Moore 462) – History, nightlife, romance, fur coats, different cultures, music, jewels, school or maybe job opportunity. This is all there in New York City and Grand Central and I’ve witnessed and lived most of it except for the romance part – I told you about the cute girl that kept making eye contact with me, but she got off the train and I’ll never see Shanaynay again. But truthfully this is what I experienced:

The St. George Hotel on Henry Street. Running the Brooklyn Bridge. Going to school with nine girls and me, the solo guy (not as good as it sounds). Classes that include: Film/Literature that had a solid teacher; Criminal Justice, in which we visited the Martha Stewart case and studied visitor Bill Cosby; a Metropolitan Museum class; and a Theater/Performance class – went to see Taboo presented by the gay idol, Boy George – went with the nine girls and the rest of the crowd played for the other team. Bars with lots of Guinness – Tom Wolfe was right – those nights just turn into “scenes”. My roommate, Doug – he laughed all the time and didn’t tell me why. This kid Jeff from South Carolina – he sucks at Madden for Playstation and tries to turn everything into a debate, but he’s all right – Harlem slang – aight. And there’re many, many more things that you the reader, who is on the train going uptown to Times Square, doesn’t really care about – because to you, I’m just the college student wearing his red “Manhattanville” sweatshirt.

The first book I read about New York was “The Colossus of New York,” by Colson Whitehead. Now whenever I write I seem to attempt to write like Mr. Whitehead. I probably extremely fail at it, but we do have some things in common. He’s a graduate of the somewhat acclaimed Harvard. I will be graduating from Manhattanville College in 2005 – where? Plus, I am a whitebread and he’s a Whitehead. Practically identical.  But on the real tip, Colson nails it when he says, “The New York City you live in is not my New York City (Whitehead 6)” – meaning nobodies NYC is the same. I totally agree.


The overpowering sound of the word “New York” doesn’t exist for me anymore. Someone says the word “New York” and all these different things fly around in your head. What first pops into your head when hearing “New York”, changes to something else after you’ve lived in the city. It becomes more personal.