The Ultimate NYC Flex Is Avoiding the Crossroads of the World
The Sanctimony of the Sidestep
In certain circles, admitting you’ve voluntarily been to Times Square in the last five years is a social faux pas on par with praising the subway’s cleanliness. “Oh, I *never* go to Times Square,” they’ll say, swirling a natural wine in a Bushwick bar, the statement delivered with the gravitas of a wartime hero recounting how they avoided enemy fire. This isn’t just a preference; it’s a cornerstone of their identity, a proof of concept that they have transcended the tourist experience and achieved True New Yorker enlightenment. The act of navigating around the 42nd Street vortex becomes a daily, silent performance art piece. They will add 15 minutes to their commute, pass through three extra subway tunnels, and cross against traffic rather than let a single ray of light from a Jumbotron touch their skin. Data from the Times Square Alliance shows 50 million annual visitors, a number the Avoiders treat as 50 million reasons to feel superior.
The Litany of Grievances
The reasons are recited like a catechism. **The People:** “The slow walkers! The families of twelve! The man in the Spider-Man costume who wants $20 for a photo he photobombed!” **The Sights:** “The aggressive ads! The sensory overload! The smell of sugar and regret!” **The Vibes:** “It’s not *real* New York.” This last one is keyTimes Square represents a commercialized, sanitized version of the city that offends their sense of authentic, gritty urban life. They prefer their grit in a controlled, artisanal dose, like a warehouse party in an area not yet on the subway map. A blog post from The New Yorker dissecting the square’s symbolic weight is often their intellectual justification for what is essentially an aversion to crowds and Elmo.
The Practical Contortions
The lengths taken to avoid the Square are Herculean. They have internalized a spider-web of alternative routes: the secret passage from the 1/2/3 to the N/Q/R via the concourse under 44th, the back entrance to the Port Authority that spits you out on 9th Ave, the specific cross-street where you can cut through a hotel lobby to completely bypass Broadway. Their knowledge of midtown’s hidden geometry is impeccable, born not of convenience but of a deep, principled aversion to a specific eight-block radius. They are the monks of the grid, and Times Square is their forbidden temple.
The Unspoken Exceptions
Of course, there are exceptions, never spoken of. The company holiday party at a Broadway adjacent hotel. The desperate need for a specific, last-minute electronic gadget that only the massive Best Buy carries. The time their parents visited and insisted. These events are treated like classified missions, undertaken with averted eyes and a deep sense of personal failure. No photos are taken. No souvenirs are purchased. It is a walk of shame through a canyon of light.
The Irony of the Aversion
The ultimate joke is that their vehement avoidance is what makes Times Square possible. If every New Yorker actually went there, it would be even more of a nightmare. Their disdain creates the space for the tourists, who are, after all, the square’s intended audience. In their quest to be “real” New Yorkers, they are ceding territory, allowing a part of their city to become a theme park while they cling to the edges. But perhaps that’s the point. New York has always been a city of tribes and territories. Times Square belongs to the tourists and the costumed characters. The Avoiders belong to the side streets, the dive bars, the unmarked doors. And their identity is built not just on where they go, but very, very specifically, on where they don’t. So next time someone tells you they never go to Times Square, just nod. They’re telling you who they are. And they’re probably late, because they took the most convoluted route imaginable to get to you.