The Bridge

Westley Chow
March 12, 2009
The Difference
Amidst the concrete jungle of New York lies one of its most prominent bridges connecting Queens and Manhattan, the Queensborough or 59th Street Bridge. At 5:45AM, it’s not as busy as it is about to be in the next few hours. How long will it take to cross over the bridge? I anticipate just some very light traffic, so maybe four to six minutes today. The only people driving over right now are the early morning hustlers, ready to take the world into their own hands, ready and willing to do what others won’t.
The rush of people on the street are all walking in the same direction half-asleep like a crowd of lifeless zombies and robots programmed for the same function. Everyone’s heading into Manhattan, that’s where all the jobs are. What’s around here? Tiny stores, a few office buildings, restaurants, and a few strip clubs; basically nothing. Queensborough Plaza is to my left and every day, the same faces walk these streets in their two or three piece business suits, shoes, tie, and everything. On my right is a smaller group of people; these guys are a little crazy. Men and women in a different type of suit, a suit of Underarmor. From head to toe, dressed in skin tight clothing with their crotches tightly hugged, they’re either running or cutting the runners off on their bikes.
Underneath the slab of cold steel and concrete lies the East River, a body of water separating two boroughs as if they were two entirely different countries. If you live in Queens, you’re just not a true New York City resident; don’t lie to yourself. The City is in Manhattan, the heart of New York. Everyone knows that a true city person eats, sleeps, and breathes in Manhattan. On this side, everyone’s a wannabe.
The Trip
The roads suck just as you’re about to get on the bridge. There’s a pothole to my left and to my right, which one do I drive over? Neither, I’ll just drive into the other lane a bit. The stupid taxi next to me honks as usual; I ignore him just because I know he’d do the exact same thing to save his shiny new yellow Toyota Highlander Hybrid.
The weather hasn’t been great this year and the bridge’s condition is a reflection of it. Chipped paint coming off the steel bars, what else? A few cracks in the foundation. Hey the bridge might collapse and I may just die today. Yeah right, it’ll take a lot more than a crumbling bridge to kill me.
Who’s on the road today? It’s early in the morning and its funny, I always happen to see the same green BMW 6 Series at the same time every day. It’s probably some thirty year-old yuppie executive coming in from Long Island. Kind of seems like I’m always cutting the same trucks off also. Let me change the song on my iPod.
It’s misty, but cool outside and the glare of the reddish-orange sun is shining as it’s coming up. I roll the windows down and retract the sunroof as I’m cruising fifty on the bridge. Smooth sailing. The wind is blowing in my face and the air is crisp. It’s 5:50AM, it took me five minutes to cross today.
I exit off the bridge heading towards 1st Avenue and make that you-ey right by Blue Room where they serve those really good Atomic Wings I like with Blue Moon on draft. Almost there. To the left, I notice something different. Scores is closed. Guess business wasn’t good the past few months. I hop over onto the left lane and bust a left at the light… Any meters? As usual there are a few lined up just for me. I snag the one closest to the corner and work on my city parallel parking skills. Oops, love tapped the guy in front of me. It’s all good. Open the door, step out, grab my shake and walk up the block to 330 E. 61st Street. I always recall the same phrase that I read in a sales book a long time ago right at the moment before I enter the front door.
“Every morning on the plains of Africa, the lion awakes, and knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve to death. Every morning on the same plane, the gazelle awakes and knows it must outrun the fastest lion, or it will be killed. It doesn’t matter if you’re the lion or the gazelle. When you wake up in the morning, you’d better be running.”