Once every couple of weeks I take the train to see my parents up in Westchester. Most of the time I’m too engrossed in finding a ticket booth and making my train to even realize how grandiose Grand Central really is. But spending some time there as an observer made me realize that Grand Central represents New York City for what it is, a melting plot.
A tourist is presented with the diversity of New York from the moment he steps into Grand Central. From the suit clad businessmen shouting into their phones, down to the homeless man outside holding up an overused cardboard sign telling everyone who cares to look that “I’m an honest man. I need money to buy beer”, every group in the city is represented here.
I felt like a creep standing on top of the staircase and watching the people below me go about their day. And as an impatient person, I didn’t think I could stay there for more than 10 minutes. Yet quickly enough my attention was caught by a young guy sitting on the steps right bellow the staircase I was on. He wasn’t particularly attractive, but he was intriguing. He had on a bright yellow scarf and was scribbling away in a composition notebook unaffected by, or at least unaware of, the dozens of people who gave him dirty looks after almost tripping over him on their way down the stairs. He never raised his head from his notebook, so I doubt he was an observer like I was.
I was brought back to reality by my friend exclaiming “Whoa that lady’s coat is swanky!” It wasn’t hard finding her; everyone was staring. The woman who was wearing a floor length fur coat was accompanied by two men clad in black suits, and on their way to the balcony bar caught the attention of everyone lingering on the stairway like us. The overdressed party of three came back down in a couple of minutes, but I doubt they were in a rush to catch their train.
Other than these two standouts, on a Friday afternoon Grand Central terminal is also graced with the presence of suburban adolescents ready to “fist pump the night away in the N.Y.C” (this is a direct quote, I really couldn’t make it up). There are also families returning from a day at the museum, with souvenirs in paper bags from the MOMA, the Met, and American Museum of Natural History. There were women with handfuls of shopping bags, as well as white collar workers going home after a long day of work, and many other people you see on the streets of the city on a regular basis.
What I found most surprising was how many people stopped to admire and take pictures of the chandelier in the grand hall and the architectural design. I never really stopped to “ooh” and “ahhh” and take pictures from every angle possible of the ceiling and chandelier. But most people who weren’t rushing anywhere stopped to do so. I suppose they were tourists because those who use Grand Central regularly, like I do, have seen it so many times that its beauty became part of the ordinary.
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