Since the onset of Covid in March 2020 New York had been cut off from the rest of the world and also the USA. Americans were scared by the reports of crime and foreigners were banned from flying to JFK, however in the last months the restrictions have been downgraded to allow vaccinated international travelers to enter the States.
On a Friday in November 2021 my godson Edward Brial arrived at JFK airport en route to visit his girlfriend studying at Cornell. He was traveling to Ithaca by bus and we met at the Port Authority once the most wicked bus terminals in America. I was surprised by the sheer volume of people coming to New York and going to destinations near and far. Times were changing, although I preferred the void of last winter, when the city belonged to us again. That desolation had never been destined to last long.
We had time to kill and I suggested a beer.
“You’re not bothered by my drinking.”
“Not at all. It’s been over a hundred days since my last drink and I’m quits.” I haven’t had the least urge to reclaim by life as a hard drinker. My life depended on this strict regime and I was happy just to be with Edward, who has called me the Brown Ranger in his youth. We chose the Beer Authority. Ed had a draft and I ordered a cranberry juice. He had just been in Glasgow attending the 2021 United Nations Climate Change Conference.
“There was a lot of hope, but the corporations have no interest in stopping their rape of the planet.”
“Sadly the vast majority of people reject any action that would result in the end of cars and potato chips. The entire capitalist system has been ruined by the shifting of industry to Asia. We have no factories. No industry and no control over the production of everything other than more pollution with the advent of AI robotics. Everyone wants to think they are not the problem and that type of thinking is a barrier to a real solution. World population 2050. 500 million.”
Edward rejected my view. His foundation worked on reshaping agriculture for poor farmers in India. He hoped to avoid the impending doomand I changed to subject to my impending appointment to be the writer-in-residence at London’s Goodenough University for the Head Chancellor, my good friend Alice Walpole. His departure was scheduled for 6pm and we walked over to the bus station. I was surprised to see an advertising poster for XXX films and books at the stairs leading down to the entrance of the A Train.
Edward took a photo and I explained how in 1989 Mayor Guiliani had closed most of these shops to allow Disney and various other family-flavored franchises to replace the streets of sin.
“Successive mayors attempted to clean up 42nd Street, but the Mafia-owned establishments relied on the Free Speech Amendment to protect their wicked fiefdom. Finally in 1995 Rudy Giuliani enacted in radical adult zoning laws and the Deuce’s magnificent wickedness ended the following year with the closure of every XXX theaters and porno shops. I happened to be walking on West 42nd Street on that rainy day in 1987. Aficionados of perversity cried on the sidewalk, as the moving crews loaded their salacious merchandise onto trucks. Urban planners had rented spaces to major retailers and restaurants, including Disney. The disgruntled XXX patrons stood outside in tears chanting, “Fuck Mickey Mouse.”
When I finished, we passed the subterranean 300 Video Center, where time resisted the will of an evil Mayor.
“We still have someplace to go. We wicked.”
I bid Edward adieu at the station and walked him to the gate for his upstate bus. It was the right thing to do.
And while I have stop drinking 100%, I might participate in some wickedness in the months to come.
As the Spanish director Luis Bunuel once said, “There is no pleasure without sin.”
Nothing like his film BELLE DU JOUR with Catherine Denevue.
