Or, a Tale of My Three-Day Trip to New York in only Sounds, Smells, Tastes, and the Occasional Sight

Heat of the Port Authority Bus terminal

Smell of Diesel and old old pavement

Wave of noise outside: people, cars, beeping horns

Rattle of my suitcase for the ten blocks through Times Square to our hotel

Spider-Man cosplayer wandering around Times Square, hissing behind passersby

Wave of air conditioning, ding of the elevator for floor 11

Sitting on the bed, staring out at the window at skyscrapers, no skyline visible, listening to this:

Wave of heat, sticky and humid

Smells of people, sewers, sweaty horses

Taste of pickles and the biggest pile of Reuben I’ve ever seen with tangy sauce

Listening in to the people next to us discuss the staging of Angels in America. (“Then the wing reveal? Okay.”)

Sound of baseball players in Central Park calling each other’s fouls.photo

The sounds of a violin player and a cellist playing in a Central Park tunnel

Smells of grass and people and sewer and piss alternating with some incredibly fragrant tree


The “ding” of the elevator audible at night

The beep of the Metro Card machine

The screech of the subway

“Stand Clear of the Closing Doors, Please!”

The cool, temp-and-humidity controlled air of the Met


The clicks and whirrs of people taking pictures of the art

Really mediocre museum salad

Waiting in line for a comedy show, drenched in sudden rain

(Smells like RAIN people sewer dirt metal brick old)

Delicious bagel in the morning, although always with melty American cheese

The plod of our feet on the Manhattan bridge, the vastly louder scream of the subway trains passing by every few minutes.


The taste of Lombardi’s pizza. Actually legit best pizza I’ve had. Something about the sauce, the real Italian sausage.

Heat and sore feet and sweat-soaked clothing.

The clack of pool balls at the Fat Cat.

The burp and purr of the bus to LaGuardia.