The following post will not incite any action that might change the law, but is testimony to what the law antagonizes.

On May 19, 2010, Mayor Mike Bloomberg signed a noise pollution bill. The target of the bill is the noise made by doubledecker bus sightseeing lecturers, a/k/a tour guides. According to Councilwoman Christine Quinn, of Greenwich Village, District 3, and Gale Brewer, District 6, the Upper West Side, who presented the bill, the tour guides are too loud and disturb residents.  By 2015, all doubledecker buses are required to install headsets which the passengers may opt to wear and listen to the tour, or don’t wear, and miss the tour.

The city is multi-schizoid, wracked by megalomania both fabulous and sickening, and its citizens find themselves acting likewise, knowingly or not. Mayor Bloomberg prides himself on the major spike in tourism to NYC since taking office right after 9/11. Tourism is among the top three biggest industries in NYC, along with real estate and fake handbags – two industries which have also been victims of Hizzoner, in the rise of property taxes and the crackdown by the Mayor’s anti-counterfeiting task force.  Gray Line’s Downtown Loop drops off passengers at Canal Street hungry for haggled-down $20 Guccis and Louis Vs; and when the tour guides speak to passengers of the West Village as an inordinately pricey area, the rents go up.

During his term, the Mayor’s prevalent attitude has been to malign Gray Line, the biggest tour bus company but perhaps not for long.   As in the TV show Lost, which takes place on an island, Jacob is the candidate to protect the island, who then becomes Jack, who then becomes Hurley.  Big Apple tours fell before Gray Line, who may fall to City Sites; the merging of these two companies is akin to Jacob’s brother being thrown into the cave of light and emerging furiously as the smoke monster.  The company union, TWU Local 225, is the group who survived the crash of flight 815.  No doubt ex-tour guide Jimmy Napoli is Sawyer.

To put the headset on the ears of the tourist is to take the microphone out of the tour guide’s hand.  An experienced evaluation might argue that roughly 6 out of every 10 tourists to NYC buy a double-decker bus ticket from Gray Line, which is the company hit hardest by the headset law, because of the number of buses which must be retooled, and the number of employees who will be unable to retool.  In Gray Line’s 2005 company promo DVD, former president Tom Lewis sits on a doubledecker at Battery Park while Sinatra’s “New York, New York” queues the soundtrack, and sums up the company philosophy: “It’s all about Entertainment.”  The people want to be informed, goofed on, or shocked, and if they don’t want to listen to the guide, they hop off.

“It’s good for tourism, it’s good for tour guides, it’s good for our great city,” says Ms. Brewer, spouting the old applesauce.  The residents of the West Village and Upper West Side pay extravagantly to live in these neighborhoods because of luxury cache, and as a result harbor the belief they are entitled to the comfort zone of urban quietude.  These are stupendously commercial districts, yet at the same time seeming very tucked away and secluded – an example of the classic illusions of Manhattan island.  The whine of the residents is no less resounding than the schpiel of the passing tour bus PA.  These residents, by living in New York, are essentially paying not to live in New York. The areas are hot, historic, busy and innovatively crafted, and will be of the neighborhoods on the routes of tour buses. Sadly, the Upper West Side and the Village have some of the City’s most roistering bohemian history, now reduced to namby brownstoners whose favorites cafes and restaurants must, above all, be cute.  New Yorkers are given the opportunity to make direct complaints about the tour guide on the city’s website.  Such warped activism is also behind the signs put up in city cross-streets threatening $350. fines for horn-honkers. Admittedly, some tour guides communicate less substance of information than a truck honking its horn, but both noises are indigenous to New York City living, and to tell the tour guide to shaddup is to tell New York City to shaddup.

When movies, TV series or talk shows use a tour bus for their background or foreground, it is most often a Gray Line bus.  A red doubledecker Gray Line bus impels the material capture of a New York moment.  Even if a different company is used, one will still refer to the bus as Gray Line, the way “Kleenex” is colloquial for anything one uses to blow your nose.  In I Am Legend, a Gray Line bus is seen all banged up at the bottom of the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art; in the finale episode of The Sopranos, a Gray Line bus roars through Little Italy, where the tour guide can be expressly heard commenting on the shrinkage of the Italian community and growth of the Chinese; Tyra Banks often employs the Gray Line bus for her chic and tacky purposes; Woody Allen used Gray Line in Whatever Works, where the Southern visitors to NYC ride the tour bus [a notorious incident occurred between Woody and the actual Gray Line tour guide during the chartering of this bus for filming, the guide apparently badgered Woody so badly that Woody kicked him off set - it generated a bit of internecine gossip in the tour guide lounge at 777 Eighth Ave].

In the New York Post last month, “residents” of Little Italy griped about the tour buses.  This is comparable to Eskimos bitching to Sarah Palin about how cold it is in the Arctic.  These discomfited downtowners might be better off stuffing their ears with a ravioli.

The heyday of tour guide work up top the bus was 2004-2007, just as G.W. Bush began to lose steam as a result of mid-term elections, the Katrina aftermath, and general apathy toward the war in Iraq.  But the people visiting NYC were ablaze with the brimstone of faultless, gorging times.  The Old Broadway fed the need for fantasy, the Armed Forced Recruiting Center as flush with neon as the electric Chevrolet billboard on the Times Tower.  Soon the Gray Line buses were posted over the downstairs windows with advertising, for the new Indiana Jones movie and Will and Grace and vacations to China.  In the heyday, tips were magnanimous, but the tour guides still exaggerated what they made on back-to-back Uptown Loops.  Today, the lines of ticketed passengers can still wrap around Broadway for an hour, but only because new management has scaled back the number of buses out on the road to pick them up.

The seed of the headset bill was planted when the persnickety West Village first banned Gray Line buses from the Times Squaresque Bleeker Street, between Seventh Avenue and LaGuardia, which was the old route (still used by City Sites).  When the tour was redirected east onto Greenwich Ave from Seventh to Sixth, noise complaints for the district jumped from 1,945 in 2005, the heyday, to 2,708 complaints in 2008, the Obama campaign and bailout times.  Presumably, a percentage of these calls to 311 were provoked by orotund Gray Line tour guides.  In the same period, individual designated landmarks in the area went up from 53 to 64.  Under the gun from Ms. Quinn, Gray Line invented a new rule, forbidding tour guides to talk on the mic along this sacrosanct block.

For Gray Line management, the headset law is an aid to Twin America, manager of both Gray Line and City Sites, not too unlike The Wall Street Journal sharing its writers with The New York Post.  It is the ultimate design of management to break the union, fire all the tour guides, and have a recorded voice give the tour. The Yankees organization would do the same thing with its players if they could get away with it.  The bill won’t hurt the city as much as the proposed cut to the Library budget.  And for a brief moment – perhaps the span of time between the East Village and United Nations stops on the Downtown Loop – the tour guides of Gray Line had the Mayor’s ear at City Hall.  The Mayor postponed signing until the next day, the ringing in his ears shrill and present but soon fizzed out, like any passenger on the bus.

Postscript
Your author is studying for a Masters in Library and Information Science at Queens College. Last class, a summer intensive session on Archives and Manuscripts, the prof. intimated that “history doesn’t exist.” Of course not – it’s the tour guide’s job to invent it.

All tour guides in this Line of Gray must choose come the end of the year how they will begin employment in the next. It is Layoff time at 777 8th Avenue, how about a song for it!

Living On The Layoff

Today in the Theater District played street theater by those Players for whom the theater distict is just one scene played in the district of theater that is New York City.

Management and Local Brass yukked it up, The Rat stood in line for the Downtown Loop. . .

The tour guides brandish their new contract in the face of Gray Line the way a disgruntled Italiano tourist does his All Loops ticket in the face of his Gray Line tour guide. Here yet again is reenacted the grand strategy of Union action, by beleagured employees in charge of this town’s biggest industry (aside from the fake handbags).

Ticketed passengers on line for the doubledecker took snapshots of the TWU 225 demonstration as if the Hare Krishnas outside MTV Studios.

In New York City, the Tour Guide Union has raised the flint to strike.

After a one-week deadline extension, negotiations for the new 3-year contract ended on Friday. This early eve, downstairs at McQuaid’s Pub on 11th Avenue and 44th Street, the contract discrepancies were given a rundown by Carlos Padilla, Transport Workers Local 225 President, to an audience of about 85 Union members “in good standing,” though many were stuck in the corner and ill-positioned on the steps and couldn’t hear over the racket of chuggers upstairs.

It was a cramped and chintz-lit space, a beefsteak room in the old parlance, a low gathering place, and New York City has always been a grand aged venue for public and private gatherings – even the Dutch sat colonial judges and merchants and patroonmen in taverns for the most civilized and grandiloquent of policymaking.  So McQuaid’s Pub – in the waterfront outland where once bustled Paddy’s Market – fit the bill for the brothers and sisters to caucus their wages and morals.

The contract technics are unprofound. Lunch money and bonus hours are being withdrawn.

And the claim that a guide’s pay will decrease by “$90 a week” rings like the phantom numbers cast upon the tax gap by candidates at political debates: a pragmatic argument only as drama, not as crux. Gray Line surely prioritizes not the welfare of its tour lecturers. This is one of the perks of the job! Responsible independence from authority! (most guides do not adhere to the dictates of the above number 12 – Gray Line knows it and so tinkers with the uniform vouchers).  If there was ever a company that merited a strike against, it is Gray Line, and if there is anything sinister in these mediations, it is not the attitude over lunch money and bonus hours, but the intimation of demobilizing the Union.

Gray Line tour guides need our Union. Perhaps solidarity among brothers and sisters is found just as proudly standoffish in the acceptance of slightly lesser terms than by walking off the job, taking the bus drivers and dispatchers along for the ride. Surely even the worst tour guide is more articulate holding a microphone on the Downtown Loop than when mumbling with a picket sign in a circle on the corner of 47th and 8 AV? Better for his or her tips. Depending on which news article one reads (there are nearly an infinite), we are in the worst economic downfall since either the Great Depression or 1981. Let it be mandated that this author loathes the commercialization of fear-mongering which the bailout has engendered just as much as the next average enlightened American galoot (they have been playing Christmas music in city-wide pharmacies since before I knew what I was going to be for Halloween, what the frig!) But one must weigh a tad gravely between relinquishing one’s job at a shysty rumbuckle of a company – in effect condemning that company for the skullduggery upon which one has either meekly or stoutly prospered – or taking a paycheck with a few more frillies than when tendered the duration of the last contract. This Black Friday an “Information Picket” is tentatively scheduled for conduction in Times Square, with the requisite boostering and bantering and flicking of flyers. At least for Local TWU 225, the Big Rat Balloon won’t float by Macy’s this Thursday for Thanksgivingsback – though the hullabaloo tonight at McQuaid’s would make a perfect exhibit sometime in the future at the New York Historical Society, where the hot air is first blasted.  .  .   and where the Uptown Loop so majestically makes an early hop-on/hop-off stop for the Museum of Natural History, ripe for jokes regarding Roosevelt and Republicans and Dinosaurs.  Upward and Onward, fightin’ the War On Tourism!

Meanwhile the Screen Actors Guild are strong-arming a new contract, and talks have broken down nigh Internal Combustion City. But puhleeeeease… these potential walk-outers pose themselves as performers under the duress of Labor’s bad faith? Do Saggers administer ponchos to rain-soaked bus passengers at 35 MPH while elucidating the Gothic mysterioso of West 72nd Street? Can they dash malarkey under the August scorch to unwizened Italians and bedraggled Wisconsinites?  The Hollywood actor is a knock-kneed nambypamb when juxtaposed with the NYC doubledecker fact-slinger!  The Saggers start and end their day in the trailer.  We tour guides begin and end in Times Square, the supreme fantasy factory. . . .