Where purpose goes to starve to death

I hate Times Square.

Contrary to what everyone might think about my cold black heart, there are very few things I actually, legitimately hate. I can't even think of what they are right now because they usually hang out in "Inoffensive" territory until they try to get all up in my face and I have to bring the drama. Hating things takes too much mental energy, and that's time I can spend watching "Law & Order."

First of all, there's a distinct lack of purpose in Times Square. No one really has anywhere they need to be. No one is motivating with focused intention toward the ESPN Zone, I promise you. There's a lot of aimless wandering, a lot of being distracted by shiny objects. Look, there's the big Cup O' Noodles with REAL STEAM, holy shit! And I don't mean this purely as a standard rant on tourists who at least have the excuse of New York City being a novelty or sorts. (Although, PS, this is not Disneyland, my out-of-town friends - I don't come and stand in your driveway back in North Dakota and impede your getting things done, do I?) There's also plenty of people who live here who get in my way. Believe me when I tell you: I walk with purpose. Even if I don't have somewhere I expressly need to be, I walk like I do. I have long legs, I walk quickly (plus, it's hard to hit a moving target). Respect the natives and those with purpose - move aside.

The other reason Times Square is even more off the list than normal is something I discovered rather accidentally. After enjoying a Henry Rollins talking show at Town Hall one night, my roommate and I went in search of something to eat. It was 11pm. On a Thursday. Late for some, sure, but this is the city that never sleeps! This is Times Square! The neon-lit, corporate-owned tourist trap where anything is possible! Surely some chicken fingers and a Diet Coke at one of the fine franchise restaurants is a reasonable goal. Sure, we were going to have to pay $15 for it, but we made peace with that. First stop: the Olive Garden - closed. Fine, ok, although I could have rocked some (unlimited) soup, salad and breadsticks like a hurricane at that point. Next stop: Heartland Brewery - closed. Seriously? What is this shit? Ok, enough with the chain eateries - we head over to Ellen's Stardust Diner. Open! Score! Although only serving dessert. It should not be this hard to get some actual food at 11pm in Manhattan. If you're going to incite the huddled masses to breathe free, at least have some potato skins waiting for them. We finally ended up at Applebee's, whose kitchen miraculously closed at midnight.

So I am done - DONE - with you, Times Square. It's bad enough that I have a lot of Stupid And Useless in fanny packs preventing me from getting where I need to be at my usual speed. But to nearly deny me edibles at a perfectly reasonable hour, oh "center of the universe"? Unacceptable. You officially have nothing to offer me, and I will cry no tears when the remainder of you that isn't owned by Disney is converted into NYU dorms.