MENACE ON THE STREETS

My first photo during my New York stay. (Robert Indiana's)

LOVE went largely unnoticed.

I am enjoying my first trip to New York City. Still, it’s not the place to take a leisurely stroll. The pace is hurried. Pedestrians don’t wait on the curb at traffic lights. They inch into the street. But it’s not even inching. They foot into the street; they yard into the street. Yes, New Yorkers have created two new measurement verbs.

I could really fit in here.

Even as I browsed the aisles at Whole Foods, I had to keep my eye out for aggressive cart pushers and basket carriers. I stepped aside, brushed up against boxes of gluten-free rosemary flatbread. Let ‘em pass. I didn’t see any shopper crashes, but I didn’t want to take my chances.

On the streets, it’s an onslaught of environmental print. It’s not just the colossal signage in Times Square. There’s something for sale everywhere. Even in the library. (I bought a book but passed on the Wizard of Oz t-shirt.)

There’s one sign that seems to be following me. It’s one of those ad campaigns that completely envelopes a bus. And I’m not sure if it’s just one friggin’ bus that keeps circling my path or if NBC splurged with its marketing and transformed a Manhattan fleet, but I keep encountering whole-bus signage promoting the new show “Undateable”.

Damn bus.

This is my vacation. This is supposed to be an escape from my everyday reality.

Wasn't my intention, but I love that the sign on the other bus

says, "Mad Me", the last letter, an N, lopped off.

Customized signage, indeed!

I see it as I schlep to the Museum of Modern Art. “Undateable”.

On my way back from Central Park. “Undateable”.

As I search for authentic New York cheesecake. “Undateable”.

Sorry, NBC, I don’t need the reminders. When I first heard about the show, two thoughts came to mind: (1) I should sue them for mocking my life, or (2) How did they ever cast anyone other than me in the starring role?

I really have no idea whether this is a reality show, a sitcom or something more aptly based on a Greek tragedy. I don’t want to know. The title hits too close to home. Even when I’m 2,400 miles away.

So much for getting away from it all.