It is very uncool to say that you like Times Square. If you’re a “real” New Yorker, you’re supposed to hate it: all that tackiness, consumerism, artificiality…and the tourists! You’re supposed to really hate tourists.
I love tourists. They’re nice, they wear jorts and tennis shoes with pride, and all they want is for you to point them in the direction of Wicked without taking their money or their camera away from them. What’s wrong with that?
And I also love Times Square. I grew up just a couple of blocks away from where the ball drops on New Years’ Eve, so you think I’d barely notice it by now, but every single time I step out of the subway at 47th Street and Broadway the sight literally takes my breath away. I think it’s so exciting, and so romantic, and so incredibly beautiful, and I can’t walk through the place without stopping to look up and get a little amazed at the fact that this is where I live: right in the middle of the whole damn thing.
Especially at twilight.
I mean, look at that.
