Were you ever in New York? Isn’t it great? Isn’t New York the coolest place ever? I think you’ll find it is. I love New York and I’m only sorry it took me so long to visit it for the first time. Some other time, I’ll tell you about the visit I made there with Wrinkly Joe. Eh, on second thoughts, no, actually. In fact, I won’t.
The first time I went to New York, I was a simple small-town Irish guy, as I remain to this day. A harmless poor devil, devoid of guile, innocent, naive and generally gormless.
I had a friend, Tom, who lived in Weehawken – a five-minute boat ride across the East River from Manhattan. He lived in this beautiful clapboard Victorian mansion in a mature old neighbourhood where squirrels ran along branches and people said goodnight to each other when they walked their dogs. You could stand on the front steps of Tom’s house and look out across the river, as I did the first night I arrived jetlagged. You look across the river and there it is: this amazing Manhattan thing. You look up at this wall of light and you’re looking straight up 42nd Street and all you can say is Jesus Christ!
I thought the Chrysler Building was great. I stood there, like the hick that I am, gazing up at it, looking for Batman just like in all those clichés about visitors to New York. Wandering around, staring up at the skyscrapers. Great. But I mean, this place has to be stared at — how else are you going to see the gargoyles? How else are you going to see Bruce Willis hanging on for his life?
And yet. And yet, you don’t really want to look like a tourist. We all know what happens to people in New York staring up at skyscrapers, don’t we? Yes. We do. The word goes out to every mugger within five miles. There’s a tourist staring up at a building. Get the muddafukka!
What to do? I had an idea while staring up at the Chrysler Building that’s going to make us all rich. It’s a money-maker, I’m certain.
Here’s the plan. I’ll buy thousands of cheap sunglasses and hire a disbarred optician to fit them with very small mirrors angled upwards like a periscope. Triangular prisms would do too. You can walk around staring up at the buildings and nobody thinks you’re a stranger in town.
I’ll add accessories – a range of goods. For instance, you’re staring at your mirrors, so you bump into people all the time. Watch where you’re walkin’, Buddy!
No problem. My people will sell you a telescopic white cane to go with the dark glasses. Everyone thinks you’re blind.
Jeez, man, I’m sorry. Here, let me help you across the street.
The cane folds into your pocket like a pen when you’re not using it. I’ll even sell you an enamelled cup with chip-marks out of it, to go with the ensemble, which is really first-class. Invest in this kit, you can go to New York, stare at as many skyscrapers as you want, cause no offence, don’t get mugged and go home with a cup-full of dollars. The whole kit pays for itself in a morning. This will sell. Look at the potential. Hordes of blind Japanese people, with cameras.
What a marketing brain! We’ll all be rich.