Tuesday, December 18, 2007

I’m a New Yorker?

They say after 11 years of consistently living in New York City, you can claim the title of being a New Yorker. Approaching my 12th year of living in New York, can I truly claim this label?

From the first time I visited New York in 1992, her vibrancy -- which many major cosmopolitan cities try to emulate -- struck me like a new boyfriend you always want to be around. Her diversity forces one out of ignorance, with an energy that feeds passion. Where else can you experience music in the parks like those in New York City? From Central Park’s Summerstage featuring all the worlds music, dance and theatre, LES street fairs, East River Park's eclectic events with equal following, the Harlem book fair, the intimacy found at Mount Morris Park events, watching classic movies in Bryant park, events at Seaport to house music, reggae or hip hop jams in Fort Greene and Prospect Parks, the Atlantic Antic annual street fair, BAM, Wingate Festivals that are so nostalgic, you think you’re at a family gathering - and experiencing all this with friends and family during New York's summer heat.

One thing I love about New York, is within all the community and social gatherings, if you choose, you can go unnoticed for miles and days, becoming an invisible voyeur. Returning to work after a vacation, the coffee cart man near my job at the time asks, “Hey. Where you been?” He noticed I’d been away. I briefly told him where. His response was a short, “Nice,” and confirms my order without my actually making it, “large, milk, no sugar, plain croissant.” Not interested in details, just acknowledging a face he sees everyday. It is nice to be unnoticeably missed.

You’ve heard my rants about New York City cabs, but there are those times when you’re acquainted with a friendly driver, waffling on about whatever, and you interject at the right times with, “yeah,” “right,” “okay,” only to realize once you’re out of the cab, you were holding a conversation you didn’t understand much less what the topic was about.

But let’s not forget the grime of New York -- the things that certify me as a New Yorker by witness, as most things now, fail to unnerve me. The homeless are sadly making a come back. Our Mayor is more concerned with capitalistic gain rather than pool resources into the impoverished. So as a result more homeless people will be occupying the trains during peak hours (and trust me, it won't smell like roses either). I often get attention from the coherent ones, with the “Hey Cutie,” “I like your hair lady,” “How you doing baby?” with toothless grins and WTF! body odors. What’s upsetting about this is, these come-ons happen when I’ve actually made an effort for work by putting on a little mascara, lipstick, and being pleased with my overall reflection. It always leaves me with the deflated thought of, and this is all I can pull today...charming. Although I'm a certified snob to bum come-ons, I have felt that sense of loss when passing by my resident homeless person’s location and not see any remnants of their existence and think, Where is he? I hope he’s alright. It’s starting to get cold out here? Although we may see homelessness as a nuance and sheer laziness, they are human and often times, we don’t know the story of how they got there.

Then there's the thing of witnessing a wonderful sense of community. Being woken up out of your sweet slumber on a Sunday morning to hear a wailing woman running down the street should cause some alarm, right? Not. Living in New York City, hearing a wailing woman running down the street, with a herd of people running behind her, piques your curiosity because you know there's going to be some great entertainment. The right thing to do is call the police. But you know it's okay not to as the community will handle it good and proper. Poor guy.

New York is not without her perversity, and thankfully, I’ve not been flashed in public yet. But my most shocking sighting of homelessness was one morning on 52nd Street between 5th and Madison. My eyes often wonder about and fixated on a homeless guy who walked up to a green US Mail storing box, pulled his pants down and out shot poo. As quickly as he did it, was the same speed in which his pants came back up fleeing the scene. Completely shocked, and in disbelief of what my eyes just saw, I still made my way to the deli and bought my morning muffin to go. Obviously, I wasn't that distraught about it.

One night, driving around with a friend looking for a building in Harlem, someone slams and rolls across the bonnet of the car, a la Starsky and Hutch style and lands on the ground, closer to the passenger side. Car coming to a screeching halt and thinking, Oh my God, I just witnessed a killing, my friend got out of the car and gingerly stepped over to see if the person was alive. Bending down to touch the woman, she looked up and said, “You got a cigarette?” in the huskiest voice I’d ever heard. Turned out, she was a homeless junkie and being the honest citizen my friend was, he provided her with his car insurance information and she made a killing from Geico to feed her addiction.

Subway tales are never ending, and can be its own posting [note to self]. But one thing that must be duly noted is, New York City has the best underground train entertainment. From brilliant vocalists, musicians, break dancers, choirs, and most recently, Pole Dancers to spice up that ride. Sometimes I wonder why life is so hard for these panhandlers. But on reflection, life isn’t hard for them. These people manage to evade their taxes by doing the thing they love -- to live, while we pay our taxes doing something we kind of “like” to not have the things we love taken away. Maybe I should rethink my aspirations. But no, public excretion is too much to fathom.

So can I truly call myself a New Yorker? In all honesty, not completely. I still have difficulty navigating through the subway system. I still get lost downtown. I haven't tried to conform to "Americanism" by dropping my South London accent. But what I love and sometimes hate about New York, is its non-conformist attitude. Being "different" is embraced to a point of annoyance. I often try to keep responses short and pithy as not to bring too much attention to myself or else I get the leeches - who only want to know you because you're British.

So with my, I'd say, expatriate, 60% New Yorker, legal alien arse, I will take this all as license to crack on and get my citizenship. It's all about the elections of 2008! I've got to be a part of it.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Beware of the Facebook

Being an online marketer by trade, I have to delve into various online environments to see how they work and how they can be used for marketing initiatives. With all the chatter surrounding Facebook, the law, digital space, and contradictions, I thought it might be helpful to bring your attention to what's going on with them.

It seems that since the birth of the World Wide Web, the intention, due to its free flowing democratic makeup, is to try and catch it with its pants down – from URL vultures (purchasing a URL for $10 and reselling the URL for $10K to $100K or more, depending on the notoriety of the celebrity or the person who wants the URL back), the annoying growth of pop up ads, the email spammers (unsolicited emails you can’t trace to a company) and file sharing, etc.

Despite the idiosyncrasies of online marketing, Facebook’s new tactic is quite genius considering the architecture of the network is to ensure privacy. But capitalism reigns supreme. It is a known fact that most people on social networks seldom click on ads; they are more interested in their friends. Imagine if someone in your friends list endorsed a product, attaching their face to it. Wouldn’t that make you pay more attention to the product? Nine times out of ten, it would. However, the new advertising venture that Facebook launched last week faces many challenges.

The venture rests on its members for legitimization, under the guise of giving the audience the freedom to choose. Participation could mean publicizing your online behavior to your network of friends. For example, it’s Halloween and Ricky’s [the costume store] has regional ads placed throughout Facebook. It reminds you to purchase your costume. You click through from Facebook to Ricky’s website and buy your Catwoman costume. After making your purchase, a thought springs to mind, “Oh, I want to get a whip to go with the outfit!” You leave Ricky’s website and do a search for ‘black whips’, which brings back a slew on pornographic sites. With the new software Facebook has developed, your shopping history can now be attached to your profile in reference to Ricky’s as a selling point for potential customers, Ricky’s obtains information about you, and visiting pornographic sites is added to your demographic information. Privacy is completely lost and no disclaimer or acknowledgment has been checked.

The other problem is in New York State, it is illegal for Facebook to operate with other advertisers and not get sued. The statute says that “any person whose name, portrait, picture, or voice is used within this state for advertising purposes or for the purposes of trade without the written consent first obtained can sue for damages.” This 100-year-old privacy law does not translate into our digital times. You could purchase an item from a particular store, but you may not want to have your profile attached to the product. When the CAN-SPAM Act 2003 (Controlling the Assault of Non-Solicited Pornography and Marketing Act) was devised, one of FTC’s goals was to eliminate the abuse of marketers on the web. The internet has made these companies faceless and in turn unreachable entities. The advertising industry partnering with social networking sites is no different to what CAN-SPAM has been trying to control or to keep in compliance for the past five years.

Facebook’s new ad schema makes sense for an environment that is difficult to penetrate—-but what’s the cost? Be careful when searching online within the web of these social network sites. Your privacy can seriously be compromised.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

The GPS

I love the new GPS systems in New York Taxis. Driving around, and seeing where you are in proximity to your destination. It’s really great.

Recently, the Taxi Drivers Association was up in arms about surveillance and losing their privacy. Hello, aren’t they at work? Shouldn’t their boss/supervisor know where they are or at least have an idea? To complain that the installation of the GPS is an invasion of privacy is a far stretch. It’s not as if their boss is filming them take a leak during a lunch break in some dank looking restaurant.

The whole GPS/Taxi and Limousine Commission unrest brings to mind a vacation I had in New York circa ’94. After a long night of partying, a girlfriend and I jumped into a cab. With only the physical address of where we were staying, which was a not-so-nice part of Brooklyn, East New York; we assumed the driver knew the streets of New York. After all, in order to drive a taxi in the London Metropolitan area, you have to pass the Hackney Carriage Exam. Doofuses are not permitted to drive London taxis. We assumed it was the same in New York.

With our landmarks vaguely in our heads - over the bridge, clock tower, roundabout, museum, wide road where the carnival is - and in this order, we shouldn't have any problems getting home. However, being a little liquored up, our sensors not as strong as we'd like, I noticed after getting off the bridge, we were driving along New York City's edge with the Hudson River to our right. Eventually we hit Linden and Pennsylvania. Any buzz we might have had at the start of the journey turned to fear. Fear of being taken hostage by an Indian cab driver, or being dumped, and left for dead in the 'hood of East New York. The meter read a whopping $53 when the taxi stopped outside the apartment on New Jersey Avenue.

Being South Londoners and deeming ourselves as "street tough" (if you saw us, you'd see how ridiculous this statement was), we weren't handing over that kind of money to a man who had no business driving a cab in the first place. But this particular driver wasn't stupid. He sped off, with us still in the cab, and circled the area in an attempt to confuse us, until we agreed to pay him at the least $40. Had the GPS system been in use then, it would have been a lifesaver; his arse would have gotten reported and the GPS would have backed us up.

So in retrospect, I can understand cab driver’s resistance to change after their long reign in freedom. Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. Gone are the days of roaming the streets of New York, in complete control of which route they take us in. Now it’s all about the digital trail. Technology....ahhh, a wonderful thing.