TO the traveler who is returning to New York after a summer in Europe, full of continental ways and accustomed to taking in with an appraising eye such points of interest as have been called to his attention by the little books he bought at Brentano’s, perhaps a few words will not be amiss to refresh his memory about his homeland. One forgets so easily.
We approach New York by the beautiful North River, so-called because it is on the west of the island, the scene of many naval battles during the Civil War and referred to by Napoleon as “le robinet qui ne marche pas” (“the faucet which does not work”). All true Americans, on sailing up the harbor, will naturally feel a thrill of pride as the tall towers (incorrectly called “the tall towers of Ilium”) raise their shaggy heads through the mists, and will naturally remark to one another: “Well, after all, there isn’t anything like Little Old New York.” These will be the last kind words they speak of New York until they are abroad again next year.
(We are purposely omitting any satirical reference to the Statue of Liberty and Prohibition, but there will be any number of amateur satirists on board who will make them for you in case you feel the need of them. The editors of this work believe, with Beaumarchais, that “obedience to law is liberty” and, so long as Prohibition is a law of this country, will do or say nothing to discredit it. It is, however, fairly safe to slip a couple of small bottles of Napoleon brandy into the pockets of your overcoat if you carry it over your arm.)
The word for douanier is customs-house officer, and you will find that the American customs are much less exacting than those of foreign countries, owing to the supremacy of American industries and their manufacturing efficiency which makes it possible for them to make better goods at lower prices than those of Europe. The only articles which one is not allowed to bring into America in any quantity are:
Wearing apparel, jewelry, silks, laces, cottons (woven or in the bale), living equipment, books, gifts, raw hides, marble slabs, toothpaste, sugar cane, music (sheet or hummed), garters (except black with a narrow white band), sun-burn acquired abroad, moustaches grown abroad (unless for personal use), cellulose, iron pyrites, medicine (unless poison), threshing-machines, saliva, over four lungfuls of salt air, and any other items that you might possibly want to bring in.
The customs thus disposed of, we take a cab and tell the driver to drive slowly to our hotel. This will be difficult at first, owing to the hold which the French or German language has got on us. We may not have noticed while we were abroad (and certainly the foreigners never noticed it) how like second-nature it comes to speak French or German, but, on landing in America, we shall constantly be finding ourselves (especially in the presence of friends who have been at home all summer) calling waiters “Garçon” or saying to drivers: “Nicht so schnell, bitte!” This will naturally cause us a little embarrassment which we will explain away by saying that we really have got so used to it that it is going to take us a couple of days to get the hang of English. Some way should be found to make Americans as glib in foreign languages while they are abroad as they are when they get back to New York. Then there will be no more wars.
AMERICAN money will cause us quite a lot of trouble, too, especially those new bank-notes. Compiling statistics ahead of time, we may say that roughly one million returning Americans will remark to friends, during the month of September: “Say, I thought I had a ten-shilling note here,” or “I’ll be giving one of these dollars for ten francs the first thing I know.” The fact that they are not the same size at all will not enter into it. Sharp-tempered people who have been in New York throughout the torrid season may have to take the matter into their own hands and shoot a great many returned travelers.
The new money will, however, present quite a problem, owing to the tendency of those who have been accustomed to wadding five- and ten-franc notes (to keep them from falling apart) leaving dollar bills similarly wadded around in peignoir pockets or tossing them off as tips. New York waiters, during the month of September, will probably reap a harvest of wadded dollar bills. Or maybe, when it is a matter of a loss of seventy-five cents, the travelers will catch themselves just in time and remember that they are back in America.
Now that we are safe and sound at our hotel, or home, or favorite speakeasy, we have the whole of marvelous New York before us. New York was founded by the Dutch in the seventeenth century (the editors will not give you the exact date because by looking it up for yourself you will remember it better) and is a veritable gold-mine of historic associations. We must divide our days up wisely, in order to get the most out of our stay here, and to renew old friendships and revisit familiar scenes. We shall also spend a few days looking over old bills which we neglected to pay before sailing.
The old friendships will not be so difficult to renew. The first old friend we meet will say: “Hi!” cheerily and pass on. The second will say: “Not so hot as it was last week, is it?” and the third will say: “When are you going to take your vacation?” This will get us back into the swing again, and we can devote the rest of our time to studying points of interest. Most of these will either have been torn down or closed.
There is an alternate, or Trip B, from Europe to New York. If we follow this, we stay right on the boat and go back to Cherbourg.
1929