A week and a half ago, for the first time in 14 months, when COVID-19 restrictions went into effect, I ventured back into New York City. In meeting friends for lunch, I was as curious about what I was about to encounter as I was apprehensive, given the rapidly changing and confusing guidelines issued by the Center for Disease Control (CDC).
The bus ride through northern New Jersey into the
Lincoln Tunnel contrasted strongly with what I saw and heard even only a few
weeks ago, though the evidence for a change in ridership habits was still
apparent. In the spring of 2020, with the lockdown in place, I walked by buses
that, though once standing room only, now had only one or two passengers during
the morning rush hour. So few people were on board that it made me feel as if I
were viewing a ghost bus.
Though a good deal more people were on board the New
Jersey Transit bus I took that Monday morning, plenty of seats remained—even
with the four seats behind the driver roped off. (The driver was additionally
protected with a glass shield.) I was relieved to have the opportunity for
social distancing.
As late as last fall, friends were still telling me
that pedestrian traffic in Times Square had diminished markedly—especially
during the Christmas season so critical to retailers.
Stepping off the bus and out of the Port Authority
terminal, I did not feel as crestfallen as I might have at year’s end—there
were a good number of people on the streets. Still, something had changed, in a
way that this shot, which I took from Times Square, looking uptown, can’t convey.
I didn’t get my first real sense of how much was different
until I met my friends at an English-style pub in the Garment District pub. Though
still anxious about being inside, I took comfort in the considerable distance
between our trio and the closest customers in the restaurant.
In fact, one of my friends at the table indicated
that, in this same restaurant, at a comparable hour, he would have been lucky
to get a seat here before the pandemic.
Analysts are talking about the pent-up demand that
restaurants will experience from people anxious to celebrate the end of
isolation with friends. I am sure there is something to that—and indeed,
compared with the desperate situation at this time last year, when so many restaurants
were gauging how to move towards a take-out model, the situation is vastly
improved.
But I suspect that restaurants in many cities such as
New York will still find surviving a difficult matter. Many will depend on lunchtime
spending by the white-collar sector to supplement expenditures by friends and
families.
Even with tourist bookings accelerating, the damage to
the office sector will continue—at least until Labor Day, when many companies
will be able to put their post-pandemic plans in place and see how early
returnees to old spaces are faring.
I believe that some of the damage to office space will
be permanent. Over the course of a year, companies have proven that they can
operate remotely if need be. They no longer have the need to have all their
employees in their buildings five days a week. Some companies reduced their workforce so dramatically during the pandemic that it will take years to reach their former levels--if even then. This means that fewer workers
will be making lunchtime purchases.
In some ways, the post-pandemic city may be better. My
friend Rob, for instance, looked forward to fewer people on subways during rush
hour. “Who wants to get on trains packed like sardines?” he noted. “After all,
there is a quality-of-life issue involved here, too.”
You can forgive New Yorkers who blinked at what they
saw all around them as the restrictions came down. Everything looked familiar
but wasn’t—much like the post-pandemic city whose dimensions we won’t be able
to grasp for weeks, months—even a few years.
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