Vigilant... Meticulous... Perfectionist....

Vigilant... Meticulous... Perfectionist... 

Whatever You Want To Call Me...

The following is a paper I wrote for one of my college classes regarding a visit to Rockefeller Center in NYC with a classmate. Although both of us went to the same place, had the same pictures to remind us of the day, and experienced everything together, our papers couldn't have been more different. My peer had written the bare minimum in terms of description and had spent the majority of her paper discussing history and historical value of the area. As you will see, my meticulous attention to detail led to a very different paper... I fully admit to being a perfectionist. 

An Enclosed Urban Utopia

It was a windy but blissfully warm day on February 18 when we traveled into the City in search of Rockefeller Center. Teeming with excitement, we made our way from Penn Station to 52^nd Street. Strolling down the bleak sidewalks of 8^th Avenue, it became abundantly clear that we were in the wrong place. Pushing away the excitement for a moment, we realized that we had walked the wrong way. Turning and feeling slightly embarrassed, we continued on towards 7^th and 6^th Avenue, where Rockefeller Center was actually located. When we finally arrived, we knew it right away. The scenery had gone from bleak to enchanting and art, life, and happiness were abundant.

               Rockefeller Center is all about diversity. The shops in the area span from selling the most upscale merchandise around to children’s toys. The stores which border the center square of Rockefeller Center seem randomly placed. There’s Nintendo World and the Lego Store, but there’s also a L’Occitane, a Movado, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art Shop. In the rectangular area between the stores, one can find some of the most beautiful gardens, filled with gorgeous sculptures. There’s diversity in the plants themselves, and the simple placement of the gardens creates a kind of diversity from the architectural beauty of the shops and buildings to the natural beauty of the gardens.

On a single corner, one can find a pretzel, hot dog, sausage, nut, and coffee vender; all within about a 500 foot radius. In that spot, diverse and distinct odors waft through the air, exciting the olfactory system. Each breath brings with it the perfect mixture of all the food the area has to offer. One can smell the sweet cinnamon sugar that’s sprinkled on the pretzels, the smell of a roasting hot dog, the bitter smell of freshly made coffee, and the sweet smell of roasted nuts. Although it’s an odd combination of smells and they certainly don’t seem to complement one another, they bring character to the streets and therefore, they are perfect.

Continuing in the vein of diversity, a Chinese restaurant, complete with a sign written in Chinese characters can be found right next door to an Irish pub which proudly displays an Irish flag. If these strange combinations weren’t enough, the sight of varying flags, too numerous to count, brings together all the people who inhabit this area. No flag appears to be missing; no one appears to be overlooked. The flags are a beacon of hope. They draw people in from near and far, making everyone feel as though they belong in this one place; if nowhere else.  No flag is bigger than another, taller than another, or more important than another.  There are more US flags than the others, but they’re spread throughout the sea of waving fabric in such a way that they remind us that all of these diverse places have donated the people who make up the population of the United States, and more importantly, the population of New York City.  

               The artwork of the area is as diverse as it is beautiful. Ranging from Greco-Roman influence, to religious artistry, to Art Deco, the eye is greeted with beauty and strength wherever it looks. The artwork seems to promote a message of spirit, strength, and heroism. The best known sculpture; that of Prometheus, sparkles in the sunlight, appearing to be made of solid gold, although I know it’s not. Prometheus appears to be floating in midair, even though he’s clearly attached to what appears to be a boulder, and if one suspends the disbelief, one can imagine that Prometheus is controlling the fountain that he towers over.

 Plaques also grace the area. The one which captures my attention most fully is that which begins with: "I believe in the supreme worth of the individual and in his right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” and ends with: “I believe that love is the greatest thing in the world; that it alone can overcome hate; that right can and will triumph over might." This plaque, standing at the entrance to the ice rink, lays out the basic principles set forth by John D. Rockefeller Jr. These principles further promote the message of strength, spirit, and hope that Rockefeller Center embodies.  

               Below ground lies a whole other world; a world where time doesn’t have much influence on industry. The old, creaky elevators of the past have been replaced with glass elevators which take you down into the labyrinth of the Rockefeller Center Concourse. The underground world seems never-ending. It spans the entire area under which Rockefeller Center lies. Slim hallways, never-ending staircases, and closely packed stores make up the maze of the underground, while cafeteria style seating is easily accessible and is prominent at the windows facing the ice rink. The longest line we see the entire day is the line outside of the shoe-shine shop. Walking down a long corridor of modern stores and restaurants, the shoe-shine shop is seemingly out of place; directly out of an old television show or novel; and yet, it seems to fit there in a way that it would not fit in elsewhere. It is certainly holding its own in terms of business, and it has a large client base. I stand in front of the window mesmerized, for a good five or ten minutes before moving on. I need to take it all in. This sight is foreign to me in a way that nothing else I had seen that day was. I feel as though I had been transported back in time, but if I turn around, the modern stores are still surrounding me. Game Stop, Starbucks, Ben and Jerry’s, Godiva, Swarovski, GNC; those stores make sense in my mind. I have more difficulty understanding the lure of the shoe-shine shop… and yet, I can’t look away. The diversity of the concourse alone is a sight to behold. The areas range from new to old, well kept to dingy, and the locations of these areas hold no rhyme or reason. Some areas underground are downright depressing while others are gorgeous and uplifting. The mystery of the underground could have held me awestruck for hours on end… but alas, time was fleeting and there was so much more to explore.

               I turn my attention to the people, realizing that I would find more diversity in the people than I would find anywhere else. There are several elevators which lead to the underground world. One such elevator waiting area contained 5 business men, each clad in a dark business suit and tie, each holding a briefcase, and each a different nationality. While appearing so alike in dress, economic status, and even temperament, each hailed from a different background. Two Asian men, who at a quick glance would appear very similar, were actually quite different. Studying these men and their features, I feel a nagging suspicion that they were not of the same origin. While both of a similar build, one man has a rounder face, with more spaced out eyes and less dominant facial features while the other has a slimmer and longer face with very distinct almond shaped eyes and defined cheek bones. Simple subtleties which could easily be overlooked, actually tell more about these men than one would ever feel comfortable asking them. Two Caucasian men and a racially ambiguous man join these two Asian men in the waiting area. All 5 men wear stern looks upon their faces and look mildly stressed, but they are also chatting with one another in a mutually understood language.

               By the gardens, parents and guardians sit while their children play, winding down from a week of school and work, and bonding with one another on the first warm day of the season. The families range from wealthy to needy and span all cultures. Some children wear their stiff school uniforms, while others run around dressed in dungarees and tee shirts. Some parents read the newspaper, others smoke a cigarette, and still others talk on their cell phones or enjoy a cup of coffee. Conversations are held in no less than seven distinct different languages and those I understand range from how school had been that day, to weekend plans, to appointments that needed to be kept. The prominent feature of these families is that almost all of the adults were female. While the women of the area tend to the children, the men of the area are rushing off to business meetings and corporate lunches.

               Rockefeller Center is a world of its own. It can function this way because it’s set apart from the rest of the hustle and bustle of the city. In its own little square, a new world has been created. A world where everyone is welcome and there’s something for everyone to see or do. A person with no income can come to enjoy the scenery and the activity, while the wealthy can spend countless hours shopping, dining, and seeing shows. There’s something for everyone; and it seems like a utopia.