COMMENTS & CURIOSITIES:New York: Ya gotta love it -- or at least try

Are you there? I’m not. I’ve been gone for a while — what seems like a really long while for some reason. So I’m out of touch, behind the times, not in the loop. Anything going on there? You’ll have to let me know what I missed.

There’s always a lot going on here. You’ve probably heard of this place. It’s where King Kong likes to grab the nearest blonde and climb to the top of the really tall building. He tried it with Fay Wray, then Jessica Lange, then Naomi Watts. He got shot down every time, and all of them swore they would never go on a blind date with the big ape again. It’s called New York, and it’s just like Newport-Mesa, with a few differences — 10 or 15 million of them, if you like numbers. Even though it is where I was born as a baby a very long time ago, the sheer numbers of the place still impress.

Orange County, which is where you are, has a little over 3 million people, which is nothing to sneeze at, which you shouldn’t do anyway because it’s rude. New York City is less than half the size of Orange County, but has 10 million people, which is a lot.

About 6 million more brave souls make their way into Manhattan to work everyday, then there’s about a million tourists from everywhere from Akron to Azerbaijan.

Do you know what all those numbers mean? They mean the place is really crowded.

During the workday, it’s whatever you call way, way beyond crowded. I had a boatload of meetings around Manhattan all week, which means I got to see many of those 17 million people up-close and personal. I had to get back and forth from midtown (where all the stuff in New York that you’ve heard about is) to downtown (Wall Street, the financial district.) Better yet, I had to do it during rush hour, which is always interesting. Unless you enjoy spending 50 minutes at a time in a cab that isn’t moving with a driver who just got here from a country that’s harder to spell than Azerbaijan, and there are a few, the subway is the way to go.

Most times of day, the subway is quiet and empty, more or less. During rush hour, it is not.

New Yorkers believe in their hearts that when it comes to the number of bodies that can fit inside a subway car, there is no such thing as a lack of space, only a lack of will.

Because my subway skills are rusty, I couldn’t remember what you’re supposed to say when the shoulder of the large guy wearing the Old Spice behind you is pushing your nose into the big hair of the woman in front you. Nice color? How you doin’? I’m not from here? I just wasn’t sure.

I also like starting out from your hotel looking like a businessman in a suit and walking into your first meeting looking like someone who spent the night in a big carton that says Frigidaire.

Traffic? I’ll give you traffic. To New York cabbies, traffic lights and lanes are guidelines, suggestions really, that give you an indication of what should happen at an intersection but not the details.

The food? You had to bring that up. It’s so depressing. I have the self-control of a puppy. I could tell you a story about Ferrara’s Bakery last Wednesday that would make the hair on the back of my cardiologist’s neck stand up — but I won’t.

Expensive? I picked up two rolls of mints in the hotel gift shop one morning and handed them to the sales clerk, who said without missing a beat, “That will be $4.40 sir.”

I said, in the most innocent tone I could muster, and it’s not easy for me to sound innocent, “I’m sorry, is that $4.40 as in, $2.20 per roll?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “$4.40.”

“In that case, I’ll take one roll,” I said.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “That would be $2.20.”

“I love this city,” I said.

“I do too, sir,” she said.

But despite the craziness, it is still the most exciting city on Earth. Whatever it is that makes you go “wow” is here for the asking, bigger and better and, of course, more expensive than anywhere else.

On a serious note, I had one meeting next door to the World Trade Center and was impressed to see a lot of progress on the site since I was there last, and very glad to see that everyone in the area — tourists and office workers alike — lower their voices and act appropriately when they pass by.

So there you have it. As of next week, I will be back up to speed, giving you all the bad jokes and useless information about Newport-Mesa that’s fit to print. Don’t thank me. It’s my job. Oh, if you need mints, buy them here.

I gotta go.