New York City was an easy two-hour drive from my hometown, but it felt impossibly distant. In my teens and twenties it didn't even occur to me to consider driving there on my own. As a young driver I felt lot of anxiety about getting lost. As a driver today I have the navigational confidence of a viking, because there are satellites in outer space telling me exactly where to go. But I do often have frustrating dreams spent entirely driving around highways and cities, failing to reach wherever I'm trying to go. My mom grew up in Rotterdam, New York—a two and half drive from Manhattan, but she had no problem visiting the city on her own. She was 12 years old (12!) when she and her little friend would share a bus to Manhattan, shop for the day, and then come home. No parents involved! While discussing my mom's bus trips I asked if is she ever saw any celebrities. She responded, "There were only four TV stations back then, and we didn't go to the movies, so there weren't as many famous people." But then a few minutes later she remembered: "Oh! I did see someone famous! I saw Dr Nick Bellini from The Doctors." I had never heard of that soap opera, but I count spotting actor Gerald Gordon as a pretty solid celebrity sighting for a kid in 1960-whatever.
My appreciation for metropolitan culture was fueled by a decade of school bus trips. In our final year of elementary school we had a class trip to see all the standard tourist spots: the United Nations building, the Statue of Liberty, and the World Trade Center. In Battery Park we were entertained by an acrobatic street performer. All his flips and athletic moves impressed us kids so much he became the highlight of the trip. He announced himself Dr. Juice, so I think his doctorate must have been in parkour.
Anytime we reached a destination there would be guys on the sidewalk selling bootleg Bart Simpson t-shirts—crude copies of official shirt designs or unique fan art screen-printed in gradients of yellow to pink ink. They were only five dollars! With inflation that’s like $9 today, but still a great bargain. I wish I had bought a few adult mediums and stashed them away for 47-year-old me. Vintage 1990s Simpson shirts cost like $50 to $90 now! We were scheduled to go inside the Twin Towers, but we got there was too late in the day. We had to settle for a drive-by viewing in the dark. Just observing the city through the bus windows was an entertainment in itself. In elementary school we talked hopefully of witnessing a mugger relieving pedestrians of their money or a real-life New York prostitute—as if these were character actors from a TV show. We never saw anything like that, but a few years later we did see actual actors.
My photo of a tour bus in front of the MTV Studios in NY, 2001.
Every year in high school our art teachers organized a trip to Midtown museums and SoHo galleries. In 1995 our bus had was stuck in traffic when the teens on my side of the aisle started yelling and waving out the windows. Jerry Orbach and Benjamin Bratt were standing by a hot dog cart with a couple cameras. I didn't care about Law and Order, but I had seen the TV commercials. Jerry and Benjamin waved back, smiling. On another high school trip we were heading to a gallery in SoHo, and Marc Maron walked right past me. I muttered in a matter-of-fact tone, "Oh, It's that guy from Comedy Central," and my friend said something like "Oh, yeah." but neither of us were thrilled enough to want to interact with him.
My annual art trips to NYC continued in college. At the end of the day we students all gathered in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art to wait for the bus home. A few kids I knew gestured up the steps to the museum. "We saw Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman in here earlier today." I was feeling a little envious when another pair of students walked up saying, "We just saw Drew Barrymore at the Guggenheim!" Drew Barrymore! There was still twenty minutes before our bus left. My friend Sean and I ran the six blocks down to the Guggenheim Museum. Just as we approached the entrance we saw Drew walk out the doors into a waiting car. She was accompanied by a linebacker of a woman who looked a lot my high school gym teacher. I assume she was a bodyguard. Satisfied, Sean and I ran back up to the Met and boarded the bus just in time.
The years 1996–2000 were objectively THE peak years for being in college, because we could spend our late nights watching Late Night with Conan O'Brien—the best seasons when Andy Richter was still on the show. My friend got us free tickets to go to a recording on June 6, 2000 (I still have the ticket!). Christine planned everything so I didn't need to experience any travel anxiety. Once again we took a bus. Before the show began we got lunch at a restaurant just down from 30 Rockefeller Plaza. I was delighted to see that the tiny gold foil-sealed butters had come from our hometown. Sommer Maid Creamery experienced controversy when I was in high school (they were probably unaware). For years their sign featuring a sculptural milk maid mascot with black hair. Then one day she was re-painted blonde, much to the chagrin of my brunette girlfriend. So much chagrin.
A celebrity sighting doesn't count if you see them on stage at a scheduled event such as a concert or TV show recording, but in this case Conan gets a special exception. Before the show began he climbed the stairs into the audience and stood next to my aisle seat. His butt was right next to my head. I can't remember who he interviewed. Wikipedia says that the guests that day were Nathan Lane and Rachel Dratch, but I have zero memory of seeing them. We went again in June of July of 2001. Again, Christine and I have zero memory of the guests. But I do remember Horatio Sanz walked by us as we were waiting in the hallway to take our seats.
Me at 30 Rockefeller Center, 2001.
I don't remember whether it was high school or college, but my most entertaining people-watching event transpired as I was gazing out the bus window. Our bus was making its way through Manhattan and had stopped in traffic. The bus interior was dark, the outside was dark, but a yellow glow came from the window of the Chinese restaurant across from me. Sitting alone at a table was a twenty-something customer in a big black puffy jacket. With slow movements he took a sip of soup, set the spoon down, and nodded his head. He looked pretty tired. His head nodded again. His head dropped a little further. Is he falling asleep? Nodding a final time, his face plopped right in the bowl of soup. Startled, he jerked his head up again and grabbed a napkin as our bus drove off.