By Alex Distefano
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For the last five years, On Location Tours has offered Sex and the City excursions around Manhattan. For $39, the tour promises to show you 40 locations used on the popular TV series. Twice a day, from my bedroom window, I can see the solemn line of fans snaking down Bleecker Street and turning onto Perry Street. Then they reverently queue up at 66 Perry Street to have their pictures taken on Carrie Bradshaw's television doorstep. In a neighborhood that's gone from being livable a few years ago to being one of downtown's more annoying tourist traps, I blame Sex and the City. But curiosity about the tour participantsand a perverse desire to become part of that lineled me to take the plunge. I also invited my editor, a fan of the show, as a sort of walking Carrie Wikipedia.
Our tour guide, Emily, stood before us at the corner of 59th Street and Fifth Avenue waving a blue pennant. She was a short, energetic woman with brown hair piled on top of her head in a swirl. Words poured out the moment all 55 of us filed onto the bus and took our plush seats: "What a great way to spend an afternoon," she exclaimed. "Isn't Sex and the City the best show in the world?" Our fellow passengers roared in appreciation. They were mainly white women in their thirties, well-dressed and showing a fair amount of cleavage. They had a few sheepish boyfriends in tow, seven by my count. "We've got a lot of boys here today," Emily enthused. "Say hi to the boys, girls." Another shout of affirmation went up.
As the bus mired in Fifth Avenue traffic, Emily used the time to describe scenes from the show that had occurred at Tiffany's, Bergdorf's, and Takashimaya, as clips flickered from drop-down screens overhead. I quickly realized that Carrie and company's obsession with acquiring luxury designer goods was every bit as important as their sexual hook-ups.
We eventually reached Madison Square, where a doggy gang bang from the first season caused the fans to leap from their seats to stare out the port windows, making the bus tilt to one side. We next found ourselves pulling up in front of the Pleasure Chest on Seventh Avenue South, where the bus would disgorge its passengers for a 20-minute shopping spree. Without a trace of embarrassment, the girls filed into the store and began rifling through the inventory. Several purchased the Rabbit, a vibrator with two extensions shaped like bunny ears, then emerged from the store clutching their little silver bags and wooden paddles distributed by the store for free. Others bought the book Sex and the City: Kiss and Tell, which offers bios of the stars and plot synopses with scholarly accuracy.
photo: Robert Sietsema
There was no doubt that Emily was awesomely competent at her job. Throughout the tour, she kept us busy with trivia quizzes. "Twelve times Samantha went home with guys she didn't go all the way with. Who can name them?" For their part, the passengers were equal to the task. Excitedly shooting their hands skyward, they recounted 11 of the incidents in vivid detail, causing me to change my initial impression of my fellow participants: They weren't frustrated housewives desperate for cheap sex, but rather Shakespeare-scholar intellects who'd chosen pop culture as their milieu.
photo: Robert Sietsema