I ask of my fellow New Yorkers or strange smoking euroheads.
Today a woman just parked herself in the street within the cozy boundaries of a thick line painted on a rather prestigious street in Midtown Manhattan. She planted her Dooney & Burke bag. Honestly, I have never seen someone just put their purse down on the street and start text messaging. Freak-y, truly an urban aberration. A patient Fresh Direct truck finally honked at her, she backed down, he made a turn and a light turned green. “This isn’t Hollywood,” I thought, as I pinched myself.
On Third avenue and 58ish the empty bus lane was serving as speeding turf for a vespa and a black SUV. “Sure hope that’s on the red light camera,” I thought, imagining that they appear like a Nike Swoosh sign on the film.
I wonder if the MTA or Transportation department of New York City bothered to consult an urban psychologist on how thick white marks and words such as “bus lane only” painted on the roadway would affect the on-the-go urban population before laying it all down upon them?