What happened to Humboldt and Marty upon arriving in New York City
I wonder which of these low economic housing developments is Connecticut? Humboldt thought as he stared wildeyed out his window during their descent into Idlewild Airport. He was amazed at how far the city’s concretesprawl spread. Huge concrete crops stretched for miles. From his vantage point, all Humboldt could see of these crops were their ugly square tops. And what was strewn all over these rooftops? Humboldt peered intently out his window.
Humboldt couldn’t believe his eyes! Who was raising chickens in such an unforgiving setting? What were they fed: concretefeed? And where did they graze: in the gutter?
As the passing rooftops drew steadily closer, Humboldt realized his mistake. These were not chickencoops; they were pigeoncoops! Over and over again, he saw pigeoncoops covered in the graffiti of pigeonpoop.
Humboldt was in awe of the city’s BIGness. No, its vastness. No, its peopleness. The city was a big, vast peoplefarm. Nooo, its pigeonness! The city was a big, vast pigeonfarm! New York City: the peoplepigeoncity. As Humboldt watched, the city transformed itself into a gigantic, concrete birdcage full of peoplepigeons. These strange creatures spent their days foraging for food and desirable reproductive qualities, while continually defecating on each other. At night, these peoplepigeons were kept in tiny cages that were geometrically stacked on top of each other. Once a day, these cages would open, causing a swarm of activity. Having been exquisitely trained, millions of peoplepigeons would fly in precise circles for hours. At first, this constant circlingcirclingcircling appeared meaningless, but upon closer inspection, it became obvious that the meaninglessness of the circlingcircling was the meaning. Once all the daily circlingcirclingcircling was complete, the exhausted peoplepigeons would return to their cages for their evening rest. And the next day, the routine would be exactly the same: more cages, more meaningless circlingcirclingcircling, and finally: rest unto rest.
Once their circling was complete and their private jet had achieved a stationary position on their private runway, Marty turned to Humboldt.
– Do we have a plan for travelling to Connecticut?
– Yes, Humboldt replied confidently. We’ll just ask the first friendlylooking person we meet how to get to Connecticut.
– And what if we never meet a friendlylooking person in this city? Marty asked skeptically.
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