Our recent trip to New York reminded this writer of Washington Irving's story of Rip Van Winkle. I was born and raised in New York City, and lived in Morningside Heights for almost a decade during in the 70s & 80s. I was unprepared for the experience of spending four days in the Times Square Hilton some 20 years later. It was, indeed, like waking up from a long sleep (with the exception of the IATSE theatre strike, which seemed familiar). What is this luxury hotel doing here? Where are the sleazy strip clubs? Where are the drug dealers? Where are the muggers? Where did these Disney attractions, Madame Tussaud's, Ripley's Believe It Or Not and giant M&M stores selling stuffed M&M dolls come from? Where are the squeegee men, the swirling columns of newspapers and trash flying in the wind? Where are the broken windows, the litter, the oozing sidewalks, exploding manhole covers? Why does the New York Times building stand empty and abandoned? Why has P.J. Clarke's replaced O'Neal's Baloon across from Lincoln Center? Why can't we promenade around the grand staircase at the Metropolitan Opera anymore (since tables and chairs from the restaurant have filled half the landing)? Where have all the Greek coffee shops gone? How did these chain stores get into Manhattan? Why does the type of standing lamp we got at a tag sale cost $900 at ABC Carpets? Why is the Plaza Hotel closed? Who are all these Europeans laden with shopping bags? What is that strange "T" on the side of the taxicabs? How do these Metrocards work in the subway turnstiles? Even Norman Mailer had died...
Looking south from the 39th floor of our hotel towards the tip of Manhattan, and again during a meeting on the south side of the 53rd floor of the Empire State Building. one could not help but wonder:
"What happened to the World Trade Center?"
