I live in South Florida so I know about tourists. Like vacation destinations such as Flint, MI and Fargo ND, we understand that tourists are part of life and by studying them, hopefully we learn how to enjoy other places without looking like obvious visitors. Inexperience and language barriers sometime prove too much as we ultimately get lost in a strange land wearing the wrong clothes. And when faced with a map full of unfamiliar names, regional dialects and Rosetta stone failures offer little assistance.
Forget trying not too look up. There’s so much too see you end up walking around with your head in the clouds. Just make sure you’re out of the way. One can get run over by both taxis and pedestrians alike.
Come to discover, it doesn’t matter in New York. No one appears to care who is a tourist or not? Everybody looks different and has a completely unique story. It’s impossible to tell the workers from the tourists, from the whos and whats. Everybody is moving together in a wild like leaf-cutter ant dance . No one had any time to worry about me or any other tourists. I did stare straight up most of the time in awe of the countless concrete monoliths. I moved deliberately slower than almost everyone else on the street so I simply tried to stay out of the way of fast moving cars and pedestrians.
From Brooklyn to Soho, from uptown to Chinatown, it was simply the most fun big city I have ever seen. Often flights land in a big city which I quickly try to escape in search of uncharted adventure elsewhere. New York is the opposite. Its tractor beam holds you and wraps you in a heavy blanket of sick sounds and loud fun. The noise of the city, the streets thick with people , the stick food laced with curry, and drinks of unimaginable expense all were a feast for the senses. From the subway ride to Central Park and the long walk all the way back to Times Square, it was the first time I didn’t mind looking like a tourist.