Unintented consequences


Or, great features of city life that lead to un-great features of city life.


1) New York is a walking city. That's a great thing, I love walking, and urbanists often talk up (legitimately) the health benefits of walking as a benefit of city life. Indeed, I have noticed that I do not see as many obese people on the street here as I'm used to seeing in other places I've lived, and I've lost a bit of weight myself since I moved here. There seems to be an unfortunate correlary to this benefit, however: an alarming rate of shavetail among New York's young men. Yes, fit young men who, in another setting, might feature a nice pair of buttocks with which to brighten the scenery, instead have only a disappointing sag in the seat of their pants. They have, it appears, walked their asses clean off. I have become so used to droopy-drawered shavetails being the norm that I scarcely even look anymore, and that IS a shame. If a nice tush WERE to pass by, I'd probably miss it. I have even noticed a few instances of the extremely rare female variant of shavetail, and let me tell you, whereas male shavetail is merely disappointing, female shavetail is downright chilling. One more way in which New York life hardens one's soul, I guess.


2) The smoking ban in restaurants and bars has been in effect in New York City for nearly three years and by most reports has been popular even with smokers. I always kind of thought that people ought to be able to smoke in bars, but I admit that it's pretty nice not to walk into that stinky haze when I go out, and nicer still not to wake up to it the day after on my clothes. Fortunately for me, I am not a nicotine addict, so there was really nothing to lose on my part. But the downside of the smoking ban is that it pushed all those who ARE jonesing for nic out on the sidewalk. And outside of popular bars or nightlife areas, they're all over the sidewalk in big, stinky, loud, drunken messes that block sidewalk traffic. A particular annoyance is this one bar that I pass on the way to my bank. It's apparently a hot spot for singles of the bridge-and-tunnel persuasion who work in midtown. So when I pass by, I not only have to hold my nose against the smoke, but against the similarly smelly spectacle of the mating rituals of bland, midtown yuppies. To make matters worse, scaffolding has recently made it impossible to step into the street to walk around them, so I have to just hold my breath and wade right in.