I happen to work on the second worst block in all of Manhattan. At any given time there are at least a half million construction projects going on, two hundred and fifty Times Square Alliance trash cans gathering at its mouth on Eight Avenue, dog poop laid at the foot of its Ninth Avenue entrance and the last vestiges of the moldering Burritoville franchise adorning its Southwest corner. To walk its length necessitates at least three crossings and/or the inhalation of noxious fumes both urinary and smoked festering under the many scaffoldings.
Yes, you must walk into the street in order to get down the block. You are literally at the mercy of every Chinese food bike dude, cube truck and delivery van in the city. I can’t imagine this is in any way legal, is it?
And the other side of the block literally corrals you in, pinning you between a window grate, a dumpster and a riot fence. Luckily this dead end alley is guarded by a veeery sleepy couple just basking in the glory of the stink.
The funny thing about this couple is… Well, funny isn’t really the right word, but I swear the guy on the left has $175 jeans on and the same shoes I was wearing when I snapped this shit with my cell phone. It’s really a sweet photo when you look at it, but the fact it’s like 1:30 in the afternoon makes you wonder if they’re sleepy or dead.
This is the sad hut where the 39th Street trolls live. They come out and pee under the overhangs of the construction sites and make that same dude smoke skunk weed day after day by the chain link fence next to the other construction site. I do so love those trolls, but the fact I have to cross the street to avoid their hut causes me undue annoyance.
And this is the rival dwarf hut on the opposite side of the street. Sometimes they come out and battle in front of taxis and BMWs and whatnot. On the day I took this photo I got a battle-axe to the t’aint. Sucky 39th Street.
Walking East, you are once again forced to not only walk into the street, but circumnavigate the giant orange cement-mixing truck while the orange vested dude whistles at the sassy Latina in the v-neck sweater.