I walk through Times Square. Red, blue, purple, yellow flash and wink. Faces
blur. Lights pulse: on, off, on, off. Someone sings a pop song I don’t
recognize, revving up those passing
America, in a stuporous hangover from a decade-long party of indulgence, seems
to be recovering in a cultural rebellion against the drink that ailed us.
In a highly prescient move to invest in