Pedicabs multiply in midtown. They’re a marvel, each and every, newly baroque and selfie-ready: a parade on three wheels.
In the New York of the 2010s, pedicabs were uncommon and uninspiring.
Now: neon lights, fake lush flowers, tourists smiling.1 And music. The loud kind. You can tell it’s a strong hustle because their speakers sound pristine. George Michael never misses, but I was strangely moved to hear him booming from a rickshaw on Avenue of the Americas.
In this way the city sings. (Sing the city.)
They’re semiotically rich, these post-pandemic pedicabs. A bumper sticker depicts Walter White. A selfie backdrop says “U LOOK GREAT.” Side-by-side American flags.
The overall vibe is a lot of a lot.
Music taste varies, naturally. The Alicia Keys/Jay-Z [Song About New York] is ineradicable. One of the staple midtown pedicab guys plays Billy Joel exclusively. But my favorite so far is “Danza Kuduro,” a song that for me is a time machine. (It appeared on a 2010 album called, hilariously, “Meet the Orphans.”)
For many years the soundtrack to tourist Manhattan was the Godfather theme. For busking musicians, it was surefire. Now I find myself missing its ubiquity. But as Ian Malcom put it, life finds a way. That pedicab with two 🇺🇸s? On its bumper, a fake New York license plate reads “MAFIA.”
On the faces I remember of pedicab passengers pre-pandemic, the typical expression was closer to [incipient regret].
he's back baby