New York City Storyteller

I saw the waterfalls. I saw the waterfalls up close. I saw the waterfalls up close along the East River. I was on a boat. It was sunny and breezy and bright. Olafur Eliason’s voice was on a tape over a speaker. I was in the bathroom on the boat when I heard him justify his placement of his mechanical devices to simulate nature. “It is a group experience” he claimed. I wanted to shout back “no one sees anything the same.” So here is what I saw: an expansive natural harbor that needs preservation and an increase in utilization; four steel placements mirroring the skyline and skyscraper construction ongoing in Brooklyn and Manhattan; salt water flowing down into a salt water estuary, the hint of the closeness of the Atlantic Ocean; the Brooklyn Bridge, a nineteenth century engineering wonder, linking the once rival cities of Brooklyn and New York, spanning water created by a glacier, and a precious commodity seen by few who live in high density, the sky. I felt small. I felt small indeed.

I should be doing a four hour tour today, with a group of fourteen. They were twelve middle schoolers and two teachers, who were  a ‘couple,’who sat next to each other on the coach, who ate together, who talked to each other on the street via walkie talkies, who took photographs with their arms around each other. I am not doing the tour.

I told the escort from the company who got me the job, yesterday at 4, when she met us when the tour was over,  ”My style and the teachers are misaligned .” She said “I can’t read the male teacher, the one in charge, neither can the coach driver. He never speaks. He just sits there with his arms crossed over his chest, with no expression on his face, looking straight out.”

She telephoned me later.”I asked him how things were going and he asked ‘Is SHE going to be there tomorrow?’ I told him you had been contracted to do a four hour tour, but this is your call.” Then he said, ‘I can handle the tour.’  So you are relieved from the job.”

When I introduced myself to the group two days ago, the first day of the tour, I kept on repeating my name, ‘Jane’ and said several times, please do not call me ’she’ or ‘her.’ It is rude to use a pronoun when you know a person’s name.The male teacher kept on referring to me in front of me and the students as ’she’ or ’her.’ 

I gave everyone a map. After I asked them to open the maps up, and I talked about the five counties, no one looked at the maps thereafter. The male teacher kept on asking me, “Where is Times Square?” I kept on saying, “It is where Seventh Avenue and Broadway cross between 42nd and 47th Streets.” He announced to the students,”We will have free time on Times Square and it is on 53rd Street.” The coach driver said it was not; the male teacher said, looking straight ahead, “That is what ’she’ told me.”

I told him I did not. I said, “You need to write things down. You are tired. You are not absorbing what I am saying. When all the information is new you only remember 12%.” He looked directly into the windshield. The female teacher took out a pen and started writing.

When the coach driver suggested a diner on 9th Avenue and 45th Street, an inexpensive place where the group could eat today, since they had so much ‘free time.’ I asked “Who told you it was on 9th Avenue and 45th Street? The diner I know, the Galaxy is on 9th Avenue and 46th Street.” The driver said, “I know where it is. I’ve eaten breakfast and dinner there.” He drove us to the diner to get menus for the group and it was on 11th Avenue and 45th Street. When we passed the Galaxy, the female teacher said, “Here’s the Galaxy. Who recommended the Galaxy?I forgot.”

I told the male teacher that the diner on 11th Avenue was too far west. He said “I have a photographic memory. I remember everything I see. Tht’s how I learn. At least this is a ‘go-to’ point.”

The coach had, at least, 49 seats. We had fifteen people including myself. The students were all spread out and a few were way in the back. I said, “Wherever there is an empty seat there is a dead space, with dead air and no energy. Please move up. We are a small group and we need each other’s energy to have a spirited tour.”

Both teachers said nothing. They kept their back packs and their carton of water in between “us” and the students. The students moved up once and then retreated to their original seats.

I discovered one student liked history. The group identified him as a ‘nerd.’ I said I liked nerds. No one else admitted to being one. He asked a couple of questions and then faded out.  The rest of the tour we lived in silence.

They all crossed at the corner. When the light was red and there was no traffic they stayed at the corner until it was green. When the light was blinking red for eleven seconds, they all stayed at the corner until the light was green. I explained how “we all jay-walk, even the police. If there is no traffic, it is fine. Quality of life crimes drop to the bottom of enforcement when there are other more violent issues, like murder and drug addiction.  You can cross when there is no traffic.” I crossed and they all stayed behind.

On the second day of the tour I got on the coach and announced, “I am not going to blow air into your lungs like yesterday. Please show me you are alive by asking questions, being curious and showing some energy. Your spirit is your age. When you’re dead you have no life. We are alive and I am the liveliest and I am at least twenty years older than everyone.”

The teachers said nothing. Finally the female teacher asked, “Are those flags always outside those stores?”

 When we visited Ground Zero I stood close to the site, passed the poles. I said to the students, “You can stand here.” A few came. Both teachers stayed behind the scaffolding with some students. The female teacher said, “I am a rule follower. I don’t break the rules.”

I said”All history is riddled with people who break the rules. Those are the people we remember.”

They stayed firm.

Todays’ tour was visiting the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. Then there was a one-way trip on the subway to Fifth Avenue and 59th Street. There was over five hours of free time after the tour was completed. The coach driver needed to sleep; he was driving them back home. 

“We live very close together. So, our prime purpose in life is to help others. And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.” The Dalai Lama

You are on the number one train. You are going downtown to South Ferry, the tip of Manhattan Island. You are with three adults and one teenager from Oxford, Mississippi — Billy Bob, Nellie Sue, Kate and her sixteen year old daughter Lacy.

You’re going to talk about the history of the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Governor’s Island, Staten Island, the waterfront, the bridges, and when Brooklyn was a separate city.

You are a tour guide in New York.
You work for yourself, mindful this does not preclude staff problems.

You say aloud as you sit in the subway car, “I hope this is one of the first five cars. We’re going to an old station. It has room only for five cars.”

A stranger to your left responds, “Yup. You’re okay.”

You turn. You smile.
“Thank you. That’s an advantages of speaking loud. Some one hears you. Someone helps you. ”

“No problem ” he says.

“I should pay more attention. I’m a tour guide.”

Lacy asks, “What are we doing after?”

You look at her.
You remember her mother saying, “No history. Lacy just likes to shop.”

You say, “We’re going to visit my contact near Wall Street, buy some marijuana and resell it on Broadway. ”

Lacy’s eyes widen.

You hear, “Be careful what you say. Someone might hear you.”

It’s the stranger talking.
You tell him you’re kidding.
He tells you someone might not think so.
You ask him where he’s going.
He tells you he’s going home after a twelve hour shift.
You ask him if he’s a cook.
He says he works for the city.
You ask him if he’s a marshall.
He says he works for the city.
You ask him if he’s a prison guard.
He says he works for the city.

Nellie Sue says “Be curious. It keeps you young. But he’s still polite if he does not want to answer.”

“That not very New York like, ” you say.
“We ask each other questions all the time.
We answer each other’s questions all the time.
We have no sense of privacy.
We have no space.”

The stranger smiles.
He cups his hand over his mouth, “I’m a cop.”

I say, “Stay safe.”