UNDER COVID, PT. 26: OUT AND ABOUT TIME

You'll have to tell me about it some time.

After almost three months of the COVID life, I needed proof that there was more to New York than the Upper East Side. Don't get me wrong, there's much to recommend about, say, Central Park, Randall's Island, and the East River. But for three months?

Last weekend was when I decided it was time to pull the trigger. Instead of biking our usual Central Park loop, we were going to ride through the park, exit at 57th, and make the journey to Times Square -- before the protesters got there, I mean. It would be our first time on the west side streets in 12 weeks.

There was barely any need to stick to the Broadway bike path -- the area was nearly devoid of traffic. By the time we got to around 47th, temporary fences kept out the cars and encourage social distancing among pedestrians. It worked like a charm: they seemed to be keeping six blocks apart.

For those who find Times Square too hectic, try visiting before Gov. Cuomo opens up the city. There were more cops than tourists when we there. The guy holding a sign reading ONLY JESUS FORGIVES SINS & SAVES -- REPENT -- THE END IS NEAR wasn't getting any converts. Not even the famous Naked Cowboy could tempt middle-aged women into getting selfies with him. Sad.

Don't worry, there's no one around.

It's an interesting way to see Times Square. It reminds you just how dependent on tourists it is, for no local goes near there unless it's for work or a Broadway show. (You think we  want to celebrate anniversaries at Bubba Gump Shrimp or -- choke -- Olive Garden?)

All the businesses were closed, of course. Yet the billion dollars worth of neon signs were happily flashing for an audience of about a dozen or so of us -- and this was at noon. Maybe the end is near.

One more way of seeing the difference these days: it was something of a shock to see an airliner heading toward one of the airports the other day -- the first commercial jet we've seen in at least two months. This lack of traffic on land and in the air has lead to a few bouts of deja-vu: when the air is dry and the clouds are few, the sky looks exactly as it did when I was growing up.

This photo from Randall's Island (what, again?!) doesn't do justice to what I've come to call 1965 Sky. Even after sunset, the view of the lights from Roosevelt Island are clearer and sharper than I've ever seen it. It almost almost almost makes me wish this could last forever. 

Until I return home and see the new installation inside our building next to the front door.

Where am I living, a hospital? A GNC outlet? It isn't enough I wash my hands every time I touch a doorknob?

It's at times like this, when I'm confronted with yet further evidence of the trouble that surrounds us, I think back to the words of wisdom we found in, of all places, Times Square. 

You got something better?

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