Welcome to Manhattan.You have just driven through the Lincoln Tunnel. You have already paid the Port Authority toll for the privilege of crossing the Hudson River. You emerge in Midtown, travel the short distance necessary to get to the Manhattan Plaza parking garage on West 42nd Street, put the car away and go about your business.

Congratulations. New York may have already charged you for congestion pricing as well. It sounds almost like a mistake. It isn’t necessarily one.

Under the MTA’s Congestion Relief Zone rules, passenger vehicles entering Manhattan’s local streets and avenues at or below 60th Street are subject to the congestion toll. The West Side Highway and FDR Drive are excluded roadways, but only as long as drivers remain on them. Once a vehicle leaves an excluded roadway and enters the local street grid inside the zone, the toll applies.

Therein lies one of the stranger realities of congestion pricing for drivers emerging from the Lincoln Tunnel. There is no magical highway corridor carrying you directly from the tunnel into the Manhattan Plaza garage. The Lincoln Tunnel feeds vehicles into Midtown’s street network. So even if your destination is only blocks away—even if the entire purpose of your trip after emerging from the tunnel is simply to put the car into a garage—you have entered the Congestion Relief Zone.

The current peak congestion toll for a passenger vehicle with E-ZPass is $9. The MTA does provide qualifying drivers entering through the Lincoln Tunnel a crossing credit during peak periods, which reduces the additional congestion charge rather than eliminating it. Overnight, the passenger-vehicle congestion toll drops to $2.25.

Technically, the MTA can therefore say the system is doing exactly what it was designed to do. But West 42nd Street presents another, considerably more troubling question.

In October 2025, CBS New York reported complaints from Manhattan residents who said they were being charged congestion tolls when leaving their own parking garage on West 42nd Street. These weren’t drivers entering Manhattan from New Jersey. They already lived inside the Congestion Relief Zone. According to residents interviewed by CBS, cameras near the garage were sometimes treating vehicles pulling out as though they were entering the zone. CBS presented one resident’s disputed charges to the MTA; the agency acknowledged one of the cited charges was incorrect, and the resident received a refund.

Now we have reached the genuinely interesting question. How can you “enter” a congestion zone when you were already inside it? The MTA itself says that merely traveling within the Congestion Relief Zone does not incur a congestion toll. Its FAQ gives the example of beginning a trip on Chambers Street and crossing West Street into Battery Park City: because the trip began within the zone and remained there, there is no toll.

A car parked overnight in a West 42nd Street garage is already inside the zone. Its driver is already inside the zone. The garage is already inside the zone. Pulling out of the garage cannot logically constitute entering something in which both car and driver already exist.

That distinction matters because congestion pricing isn’t collected by someone sitting in a booth who can look at the situation and say, “Obviously this person is leaving a garage.” It depends upon cameras, license-plate recognition and E-ZPass technology interpreting vehicle movements.

Machines are wonderfully literal creatures. They don’t know that you live upstairs. They don’t know that you parked there yesterday. They don’t know that you’ve traveled twenty feet rather than twenty miles. They know what the system tells them your vehicle has done.

That makes the Manhattan Plaza situation a fascinating case study in what happens when a large public policy collides with the peculiar geography of New York City.

The Congestion Relief Zone was created to discourage unnecessary vehicle trips into Manhattan’s most congested streets while raising money for public transportation. Supporters can point to evidence that it has reduced vehicle entries: six months after implementation, officials reported roughly 67,000 fewer vehicles entering the zone per day compared with the previous year.

Fine, a successful policy can still produce absurd results at its edges. West 42nd Street appears to be one of those edges. A New Jersey driver can pay to enter through the Lincoln Tunnel, emerge into Manhattan and almost immediately park—yet still legitimately trigger congestion pricing because those few blocks count as entering the local street grid.

Meanwhile, a Manhattan resident can begin the day with a car already parked inside the Congestion Relief Zone, pull out of a garage and, according to documented complaints, sometimes find a congestion charge waiting.

One driver has barely gone anywhere. The other hasn’t entered anything. Yet the meter may be running.

There is also a larger issue here about transparency. When automated systems determine when money is taken from millions of people, the burden shouldn’t fall entirely upon drivers to discover incorrect charges buried inside an E-ZPass statement and then fight to have them reversed.

If a camera can mistakenly interpret leaving a garage as entering a toll zone, how readily can the person receiving the bill determine exactly where and why the charge occurred? More importantly, how many people actually check?

Nine dollars is simultaneously enough money to matter and little enough money that many people won’t spend an afternoon fighting over it. Multiply that psychology across hundreds of thousands of transactions and accuracy becomes more than a technological issue. It becomes a question of public trust.

Congestion pricing can be debated endlessly. Some New Yorkers consider it transformative. Others consider it another tax imposed upon drivers. Both arguments have occupied enough newspaper columns to pave Seventh Avenue.

This particular question doesn’t require choosing a political side. If the government is going to charge someone for entering a zone, it should be able to establish that the person actually entered it.

If you’re coming out of the Lincoln Tunnel simply trying to put your car into a garage a few blocks away, perhaps New York could at least allow you enough time to say hello before presenting the next bill.

Apparently in Midtown these days, you don’t actually have to get anywhere. You just have to arrive.

There are certain New York losses you eventually stop expecting to be reversed. The Automat, Schrafft’s, The 21 Club, Lord & Taylor. Restaurants, stores and gathering places disappear, another piece of glass-and-steel anonymity takes their place, and New Yorkers learn to walk past the ghosts. But every once in a while, New York gives something back. The news of the hour is Carnegie Deli is coming home.

Nearly ten years after the legendary delicatessen served its final mountainous pastrami sandwich at 854 Seventh Avenue on New Year’s Eve 2016, the red-and-yellow Carnegie Deli signage has suddenly reappeared on Seventh Avenue. The company confirmed this week that Carnegie is returning to Midtown this fall, on the same block where the original became one of New York’s great culinary institutions.

For those of us who remember the real Carnegie Deli, this is not simply another restaurant opening. This is cause for celebration. Getting this kind of Jewish deli food in Manhattan—the kind made without apology, restraint or concern for whether your cardiologist approves—has become increasingly difficult. Yes, Katz’s remains downtown, enormously famous and perpetually packed, but it has also become a tourist pilgrimage unto itself. Carnegie belonged to Midtown. It belonged to Broadway. It belonged to the strange ecosystem of actors, comedians, producers, musicians, tourists and New Yorkers who understood that sometimes dinner should arrive between two pieces of rye bread and be approximately the height of a small child.

Founded in 1937 near Carnegie Hall, the deli eventually came under the ownership of Milton Parker and Leo Steiner in 1976 and grew from neighborhood institution into international legend. Parker became known as the “Corned Beef and Pastrami Maven,” while the restaurant became almost as famous for the celebrities squeezed around its tables as for the absurdly oversized sandwiches arriving on them. Today, the Carnegie Deli brand remains in the Parker family, owned by Parker’s daughter Marian Harper and granddaughter Sarri Harper.

The menu was unapologetically New York: pastrami, corned beef, enormous combination sandwiches, potato knishes, matzo ball soup, pickles and cheesecake dense enough to make dessert feel like a commitment.

Then there were those walls. Photographs of entertainers covered seemingly every available inch, turning the restaurant into an unofficial archive of show business. Mel Brooks, Robin Williams, Stevie Wonder and generations of performers passed through. Carnegie wasn’t simply adjacent to the entertainment world. It became part of it.

Woody Allen immortalized the deli in 1984’s Broadway Danny Rose, making it part of the movie’s particular love letter to New York show-business eccentrics. A decade later, Adam Sandler worked Carnegie into “The Chanukah Song,” ensuring that even people who had never wrestled one of its sandwiches into submission knew the name.

Then came December 31, 2016. After nearly eight decades, the original Carnegie Deli closed. People stood in line for hours during its final days, determined to get one last sandwich before another piece of old New York disappeared. The brand itself didn’t die—it continued selling its food nationally, maintained a presence at Madison Square Garden and periodically resurfaced through pop-ups and collaborations—but that wasn’t the same thing. Carnegie currently still serves pastrami, corned beef and knishes at its Madison Square Garden stands.

A deli isn’t merely its pastrami….it’s the room. It’s somebody waiting impatiently for your table. It’s the mustard. It’s the pickle arriving before you’ve decided what you want. It’s the person sitting six inches away from you whose entire conversation you now know despite never having met them. It’s a waiter who has absolutely no intention of treating your indecision as a spiritual journey. It’s New York.

Increasingly, those places have vanished. That is why Carnegie’s return matters beyond nostalgia. New York has spent years watching distinctive institutions disappear while interchangeable establishments multiply. We preserve facades, rename neighborhoods, manufacture “experiences” and then wonder why the city sometimes feels less like itself. You cannot manufacture history. Carnegie already has it.

The new location is expected on Seventh Avenue around West 54th Street, essentially returning the deli to its old neighborhood. A precise opening date has not yet been announced, and questions remain about exactly what form the new Carnegie will take. The company itself has made the important part unmistakable: Carnegie Deli is coming back to Midtown. There is something wonderfully New York about that.

We spend so much time writing obituaries for the city we remember that we sometimes forget New York has always possessed an extraordinary capacity for resurrection. Buildings disappear. Restaurants close. Neighborhoods change beyond recognition. Then suddenly somebody hangs an old familiar sign over Seventh Avenue and thousands of people collectively think: Wait. Is that what I think it is? Yes. The pastrami is coming back. The corned beef is coming back. Hopefully the cheesecake is coming back.

Somewhere in Midtown, thousands of cardiologists have just felt an unexplained disturbance in the universe.

Welcome home, Carnegie. We’ve been hungry.

Ron Fassier and Frank “Fraver” Verlizzo Photo by Richard Hillman

Times Square has never been particularly interested in behaving itself, which made it exactly the right neighborhood for The Men Event’s latest Times Squeer Social, where networking, cocktails, Broadway and a little literary murder mystery shared the same room.

Held Tuesday, August 18, at Planet Hollywood, the free three-hour mixer brought New York’s LGBTQ+ community together for an evening designed less around name tags and forced networking than the considerably more civilized pleasures of drinking, flirting, talking, connecting and seeing where the evening might lead.

Mark William, Richard Ridge and Richard Hillman

The Men Event’s signature monthly gathering included drink specials, raffle prizes and no cover—always three rather persuasive words in Manhattan.

Photo by Richard Hillman

This edition came with a particularly Broadway twist: the celebration of Frank “Fraver” Verlizzo’s new mystery novel, Sanity Claus.

Michael and Frank “Fraver” Verlizzo

For Broadway people, Fraver hardly needs an introduction. Long before becoming a mystery novelist, Verlizzo created some of the theatre’s most recognizable visual identities, designing posters and advertising art that helped define how Broadway sold itself to the world. That made the collision of Broadway history, mystery fiction and Times Square nightlife feel rather perfectly placed.

The Boys

Sanity Claus gave the evening its literary centerpiece, but Times Squeer Social remains fundamentally about something increasingly precious in New York: actually meeting people in person.

The Press

Since launching in 2004, The Men Event has built its identity around creating social connections within the LGBTQ+ community, producing everything from networking parties and speed dating to theatre nights, gallery walks and comedy events. The organization says it has created more than 2,000 events over the past two decades.

Hugh Hysell and Frank “Fraver” Verlizzo

That matters in an era when “social” increasingly means staring at somebody’s photograph on a screen and deciding their entire worth with the movement of a thumb. Times Squeer Social offers the wonderfully old-fashioned alternative: walk into a room and say hello. You might meet a future collaborator. You might make a new friend. You might find somebody worth flirting with. You might win something. And on this particular Tuesday night, you could also leave having discovered a Broadway mystery by one of the men responsible for making Broadway itself look so enticing. Not bad for a free night in Times Square.

Fraver Table

If you missed this one, Times Squeer Social isn’t disappearing. The Men Event has already scheduled its next edition at Planet Hollywood for September 22. In a neighborhood built on spectacle, sometimes the most interesting thing happening isn’t what’s flashing across the giant screens outside. It’s who you meet upstairs.

Times Square has hosted almost everything imaginable, but on August 25 it is handing the controls to the kids.

@wonderamatv The Wonderama Wonder Games are back! Join in on the fun starting August 25th, live from Times Square! Join host @davidosmond and discover why The Wonderama Wonder Games are truly The Games That Everyone Can Play! #wonderamatv #timessquare #gaming #livemusicconcert ♬ original sound – Wonderama

Wonderama, America’s longest-running children’s television show, is bringing its inaugural Wonder Games to the Crossroads of the World for a day where music, gaming, emerging talent and some wonderfully old-school Wonderama fun collide with the digital generation.

David Osmond

Hosted by David Osmond, Wonderama Chuckie and Alisa Obrianova, Wonder Games is built around a rather irresistible premise: “The Games Everyone Can Play.” That means young gamers, musicians, creators and families won’t simply be watching the action—they’re part of it.

The event brings Wonderama together with FENIX360, AbleGamers and the Empire State Scholastic Esports Federation, with support from the Times Square Alliance and One Times Square/Jamestown. Expect live music, creator showcases, family activities and those classic Wonderama games alongside something that certainly wasn’t part of children’s television when Wonderama first hit the airwaves: competitive esports.

Student gamers will take center stage for exhibition matches in Rocket League and Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, presented with the Empire State Scholastic Esports Federation. And while parents may still occasionally wonder how sitting in front of a screen became a team sport, scholastic esports has become an arena for strategy, communication, collaboration and community—and these students are coming to Times Square to show what they can do.

“Wonder Games is about much more than competition,” said Wonderama Executive Producer Charles Armstrong. “It is about creating a place where every child feels welcome, creativity is celebrated and young people can discover how their interests in music, gaming, technology and storytelling can open pathways to future opportunities.”

That idea of discovery has always been embedded in Wonderama’s DNA. Long before everyone with a phone could become a content creator, the show understood something television occasionally forgot: kids don’t merely want to be entertained. They want to participate. Wonder Games takes that philosophy into 2026.

Through FENIX360, a global platform designed to help musicians, performers, artists, gamers and other creators connect directly with audiences, Times Square will also become a showcase for emerging talent. Young performers and digital creators will have the chance not simply to appear before the live crowd but to reach FENIX360’s international creative community. In other words, the kid performing in Times Square on Tuesday could be reaching an audience halfway around the world by Wednesday. But perhaps the most important part of Wonder Games is contained in those four words: everyone can play.

Wonderama’s partnership with AbleGamers puts accessibility directly into the experience, highlighting adaptive gaming technology and approaches that allow players with disabilities to participate. Gaming is at its best when the controller isn’t a barrier to entry, and Wonder Games makes the argument that ability shouldn’t determine who gets invited into the game.

There is another side to growing up digitally, of course. Wonderama will also address creating safer and healthier online environments for children and families, supporting the goals behind the Kids Online Safety Act and recognizing Senator Richard Blumenthal’s work in pushing children’s online safety into the national conversation. It is a surprisingly broad agenda for a day of games—and that may be exactly what makes the concept work.

Wonderama has survived generations of childhood because childhood itself keeps changing. The games change. The technology changes. The screens certainly change. Today’s kids inhabit a world where performer, gamer, programmer, musician and digital creator increasingly overlap, and careers exist that their parents couldn’t have named when they were the same age.

What hasn’t changed is the desire to play, create, compete, belong and be seen. On August 25, Wonderama is taking all of that, putting it beneath the lights of Times Square and inviting New York to come play. Because Times Square may belong to Broadway most nights. But for one day, Player One is taking over.

As Manhattan is becoming the epicenter of the sporting universe—with the NBA Finals, international soccer, and a city buzzing with fans from around the globe—The Addison has arrived at exactly the right moment.

Located at 214 West 39th Street, this isn’t your typical sports bar. Forget sticky floors, blaring televisions, and baskets of forgettable wings. The Addison has reimagined the sports-watching experience with the sophistication of an upscale supper club, where beautifully plated food, inventive cocktails, and refined interiors are every bit as important as the game itself.

Created by New York hospitality veterans Ian Magid, Michael Shalev, and Anthony Barton, in collaboration with NexHos Hospitality, the 2,300-square-foot venue comfortably accommodates up to 120 guests while feeling surprisingly intimate. Rich cobalt blue lacquered walls accented with Art Deco-inspired gold trim immediately set the tone. Plush velvet seating in navy and crimson, polished marble tables, and warm ambient lighting create an atmosphere that feels elegant rather than over-designed.

The details are what make The Addison memorable.

I immediately fell in love with the whimsical artwork adorning the walls, adding personality and conversation to every corner.

Around the room dramatic walls of crystal decanters filled with luxury spirits create an almost theatrical backdrop. Even the large-format televisions have been thoughtfully integrated into the design, allowing guests to enjoy every game without sacrificing the restaurant’s refined aesthetic.

Since I’m currently avoiding alcohol, I opted for the Refreshing Mule ($14), a vibrant blend of muddled cherries and oranges, fresh lime juice, ginger beer, finished with a skewered orange, cherry, and mint sprig. Bright, refreshing, and surprisingly soothing, it proved that a thoughtfully crafted mocktail can be every bit as satisfying as its spirited counterpart. My dining companion, Magda, happily stuck with her traditional Diet Coke.The meal began with what quickly became our favorite bites of the evening: the Buttermilk Onion Rings ($14). Perfectly crisp without a trace of grease, they arrived with an addictive smoked aioli that had us reaching for “just one more” until the plate was empty.

The Spinach & Artichoke Gratin ($17) arrived bubbling hot beneath a beautifully browned three-cheese crust. Rich without becoming heavy, it was generously portioned and accompanied by crisp toasted crostini that stood up beautifully to every creamy bite.

For my entrée, I chose the appetizer of Braised Short Rib Tacos ($19), served as three generously filled tacos layered with tender, slow-braised beef, pickled onions, and chipotle crema. The meat practically melted with every bite, delivering rich, comforting flavor balanced by just enough brightness from the onions and crema. Frankly, these deserve to become one of The Addison’s signature dishes.

Magda chose the Tuscan Kale Salad ($18), featuring Pecorino, lemon vinaigrette, and toasted breadcrumbs. Fresh, vibrant, and perfectly balanced, it offered a lighter counterpoint to the evening’s richer selections and earned enthusiastic praise from across the table.

Dessert turned into a celebration as our friend fashion designer Shani Grosz marked her birthday with us. The Molten Lava Cake ($14), finished with salted caramel drizzle, and the classic New York Cheesecake ($14), topped with whipped cream and fresh raspberries, provided the perfect finale. Decadent without being overwhelming, both disappeared remarkably quickly.

Shani Grosz celebrating her birthday with us

Beyond the menu, The Addison succeeds because it understands its neighborhood.

Just two blocks from Schmigadoon!, it makes an ideal pre-theater dinner or post-show gathering spot. Its proximity to Port Authority also makes it an excellent destination for business lunches, after-work cocktails, or meeting colleagues before catching a train out of the city.

Manager Sam Bose

Looking ahead, The Addison is equally well-positioned for private events and holiday celebrations, offering ample space while maintaining the intimate elegance that defines the restaurant.

The happy hour alone is worth planning around. Highlights include $8 draft beers, $10 French 75s, Old Fashioneds, and Short Rib Tacos, $14 martinis, a Martini & Truffle Fries pairing for $18, $12 Caviar Bumps, and $2 oysters—a menu that effortlessly mixes approachable comfort with a touch of luxury.

What impressed me most wasn’t simply how beautiful the room is. It was how welcoming it feels.

Too often restaurants choose between elegance and comfort. The Addison delivers both. Portions are generous without being excessive, every dish tastes fresh despite offering satisfying comfort, and the atmosphere somehow manages to be upscale without ever feeling pretentious.

Whether you’re cheering on your favorite team, entertaining clients, grabbing dinner before the theater, or simply looking for one of Midtown’s newest hidden gems, The Addison has already mastered what so many restaurants spend years trying to achieve.

This isn’t just another sports bar. It’s one of Midtown’s most stylish new dining destinations—and one I’ll happily return to again and again.

The Addison: 214 West 39th Street