My favorite couple of blocks in all of New York (from the existential perspective, I mean) has no doorways, no stoops, no storefronts, and barely any sidewalk to speak of. Indeed, by rights it shouldn't have a name. But it does.
Tunnel Exit Street.
There was no famous denizen of Murray Hill named Tunnel Exit whom the City Council saw fit to honor with a sign. No legendary saloon keeper or actor or civil rights lion. Though as a name, come to think of it, Tunnel Exit has certain cinematic quality that I like.
No, Tunnel Exit Street is the barren stretch of roadway running north between East 37th Street and East 41st Street. It begins outside the west-bound exit of the Queens Midtown Tunnel and is essentially a conduit between Second and Third Avenues with the sole purpose of diffusing rumbling trucks onto less-congested side streets rather than a single, already grid-locked avenue.
There are no addresses on Tunnel Exit Street, yet there is a thin sidewalk on the east side and pedestrians - oh, say those making a quick trip to the Frontier Coffee Shop from the old News Building, just for argument's sake - often use it as a shortcut.
And the city, in its wisdom, has seen the justice of placing formal green street signs on every corner. They hang there each day on their bleak couple of blocks where no mailman needs to tread, no delivery trucks pull up, and they speak their simple message with some strange, civic pride.
Mister, every street in this town has a name even if it has no addresses. No dwellings. No places of business.
And you, sir, are on Tunnel Exit Street.
