Bruce Cherry discovers that when it comes to the environment, we’re too poor and cramped to do much damage.
New York has long been known as the city that never sleeps. What’s less well-known is that much of the reason for this is that we always leave the lights on. Between marquees, billboards, and office buildings, this city generates so much luminescence that you can probably read a book in the New Jersey Pine Barrens from the reflected light.
The author, doing his part to help save the planet.
The island of Manhattan is a virtual lighthouse, whose beacon has undoubtedly prevented many an extraterrestrial spaceship from colliding with Earth. Throw in the heat, fumes, and noise that this city spews with such flatulent abandon, and one would naturally assume that New York is a pulsating boil on the body of Mother Earth — an eco-catastrophe that should be lanced as quickly as possible.
But looks can be deceiving, even when they’re illuminated with a billion watts. This island that we have so energetically deforested, leveled, and paved turns out to be a shining example of environmental correctness. According to a 2004 New Yorker article, “By the most significant measures, New York is the greenest community in the United States, and one of the greenest cities in the world.” Yes, despite appearances, we are green, not cement gray. You may track blackened snow into your building lobby, but your carbon footprint is remarkably small, since New York City’s per capita greenhouse emissions are a third of those in the rest of the country. In fact, if New York City were a state, it would rank fifty-first in per-capita energy use. 51st! We are to energy use what Mississippi is to reading scores.
“How do we do it?” you ask from your toasty 80-degree apartment. Densely packed dwellings, smaller living spaces, and lack of cars — in other words, all the things we routinely bemoan as New Yorkers are our gifts to Mother Earth. The fact that you can hear your neighbors having sex, lack closet space, and got home on a crowded C train that reeked of bad cologne all make this world a better place for everyone. I’d ask you to take a bow, but you’d lose your seat on the subway. Not that we’re doing all this out of altruism. If we had our way, we’d each prefer to live in a penthouse the size of Rockefeller Center and drive a vehicle that runs on whale oil. But necessity doesn’t negate our accomplishment. We have created an environmental utopia through our inability to afford anything else.
Of course, our shining city on a hill is actually dangerously close to sea level, so it’s only fitting that our lifestyle turns out to be easy on the planet. If global warming does turn the Greenland ice caps to slush, we’d be among the first to be swallowed up by the rising seas, right after Tuvalu and the Maldives. I live on pretty high ground personally, but some of my favorite bars are very close to the river, so let’s keep up the good work, people.
Fortunately, there are plans afoot to do just that. The city wants to cut greenhouse emissions thirty percent by 2030. That’ll be tough to do, as I assume we’ll all be flying around with jet packs by then. The plan consists of things you’d expect, like tree planting, improved public transportation, and hybrid taxis. Personally, I think if they can develop a taxi that runs on shawarma drippings, New York City could achieve energy independence. Brilliant, no? But wait! I have other suggestions to save energy and cut waste to help New York retain its greenish hue.
The first thing you can do is give me a thermostat for my apartment. I know they exist, since I’ve seen them in virtually every other place in the world, including some very cheap hotels. I actually prefer an earth-friendly temperature in the mid-sixties, but I have no control over how hot my apartment is. That’s up to my landlord, who evidently wants me to be able to smelt copper in my bedroom. Yes, landlords pay for heat, but that cost gets passed along in higher rents. Every apartment I’ve ever had in this city turned into the same Turkish bath in the winter months. And every New Yorker I know avoids becoming a human pot roast the same way — by opening their windows to let the January air take some of the steam out of the sauna. Multiply that by millions of open windows, and you have a direct contribution to global warming — literally. Great. We’re driving up rents while driving polar bears to extinction.
On a similar note, perhaps retail stores should stop blasting their air conditioners out into the street during the hottest summer days. As a pedestrian, a nice cool breeze courtesy of the Gap is greatly appreciated, but it does seem wasteful. I realize it’s done to lure customers into the store, but I have my doubts as to whether a sudden blast of Arctic air can really induce people to buy overpriced jeans.
The final thing you can do is just give me a Coke. No, really, just hand me the can. That’s it. Whenever I buy a soda at my midtown neighborhood grocery, the clerk automatically puts it in a bag, and then throws in a straw, several dozen napkins, and — for some inscrutable reason — a plastic fork. If I didn’t snatch it away at that point, I suspect he would add salt, pepper, and a jelly packet. Not that I ever strenuously refuse any of these items. For two dollars a can, I would take an asbestos cup holder if it were offered.
But if we can just start following those simple steps, and continue living in tiny spaces that exist in uncomfortable proximity to each other, I’m certain New York City will continue to be a beacon of ecological enlightenment. Just make sure the beacon has a fluorescent bulb.
Last 5 posts by Bruce Cherry
- Take Me Out to the Ball Game ... But Which One? - July 20th, 2010
- From Meteors to Marshmallow Men, New York has a Future. - July 20th, 2010
- A Street by Any Other Name... - March 31st, 2010
- WAY Beyond The MBA - November 19th, 2009
- The Best Things in Life Are Worth the Wait - September 28th, 2009
