How did it come to this? This is the question I asked myself as I was sprinting across East 60th street, running alongside a German man named Josh that I had literally just met 45 seconds before. But there we were, around 9 p.m. on a Wednesday night, dodging wary passersby who probably all just wanted to go home and not be run over by this new international coalition. This is the part where, if this were a movie, the record would scratch (I assume “Be Good To Yourself” by Journey is playing) and I would start my, “Yep, that’s me. You might be wondering how I wound up here,” voiceover…
And the stupidest thing about this isn’t that this was all to catch a Pokémon in the one-time sensation, now just “popular” game, Pokémon GO — it’s that it was to catch Hitmonchan, a Pokémon most people who play don’t even seem to like that much. But neither Josh nor myself had Hitmonchan yet, so off we went, sprinting into the night, trying to make it over to 3rd Avenue in less than five minutes. We succeeded. (There’s always this weird feeling when catching a desired Pokémon: It’s the combination of elation, followed by the dread that, in reality, I’ve just done literally nothing.)
In New York City, it would be difficult to tell that the Pokémon GO craze is over if you ever happen to be anywhere near 60th Street and 5th Avenue (also known as Grand Army Plaza). This is the epicenter of Pokémon GO in New York. The first time I witnessed this, I stumbled upon it by accident one day on my way home. There are crowded streets in Manhattan, but not this crowded. I remember being annoyed, trying to sliver my way through the masses. I’m sure this is the feeling most people have. (Living in New York, anything that delays us from getting home is the enemy.)
Over the last few weeks, I infiltrated this group in an effort to understand what was happening. (I use the word “infiltrated” because it sounds cool. In reality, you just kind of show up and stand there.) At this point, I’ve probably joined this mob around 10 times. I’ve gone after work. I’ve walked by on the way home in the middle of the workday. I’ve gone on weekends. Somehow, it’s always crowded. Why is this happening? What is the end game? Who are these people? Who am I?
Like most people, I downloaded Pokémon GO during the Pokémon GO craze of 2016. I think it was a peer pressure thing. I didn’t like not knowing what everyone else was talking about. At the time, my knowledge of Pokémon didn’t go far beyond this sketch from Norm Macdonald’s old Norm television series.
And, like most people, I enjoyed it. It really felt like everyone in New York City was playing. I’d walk around and there would be people everywhere, standing near the edges of the sidewalk, flicking little digital balls at little digital monsters. And then like all crazes, things settled down. Except at Grand Army Plaza. There were always people there. I needed to go there.
The first day I went, it was a hot New York City Saturday afternoon. At first I worried I’d be rejected somehow, that, somehow, this group was paying attention to who comes and goes. (All these years after high school, I still worry about being rejected by a cool clique, even a cool Pokémon GO clique.) But in reality, everyone is just staring at his or her phones. There does seem to be some sort of social hierarchy near the middle of the plaza, at least that’s where the densest congregation of people and the most vocal players seem to be. But I just keep my distance from that area. I’m not here to step on anyone’s turf.
After a few minutes, it became obvious why players like this area. In Pokémon GO, there’s what are essentially fueling stations (where you get all your supplies) called Pokestops. At these Pokestops you can set “lures,” which attract Pokémon. Depending where you stand at Grand Army Plaza, you can be within range of five lured Pokestops. It’s a non-stop bonanza of Pokémon. There’s basically no downtime. There are so many, that it becomes difficult to keep up. It’s an orgy of digital creatures. If Pokémon were real, I’d be frightened. We’d be overrun. I’d probably surrender and beg for some kind of mercy.
***
“Snorlax!”
This was an exciting and frightening moment. But before we get to it, I probably need to explain what a Snorlax is. The official Pokémon website describes him thusly:
Snorlax’s typical day consists of nothing more than eating and sleeping. It is such a docile Pokémon that there are children who use its expansive belly as a place to play.
And he looks like this:
He may not technically be the rarest Pokémon, but he’s still the most sought after. At least on that day he certainly was. Someone from the vocal “Pokémon GO cool kids” screamed “Snorlax! Fiftieth and Fifth!” and, with no hesitation, the mob quickly made its way down 5th Avenue, devouring everything in its path (including a group of Donald Trump supporters).
“What’s going on?” I asked to no one in particular.
“It’s a Snorlax,” I heard back, in the most “duh” tone possible.
“Oh. Okay,” I answered as I took off running.
What’s funny is Trump Tower is located at 57th and 5th. And as you can probably imagine, the scene outside over the last few weeks has been, well, let’s say, eclectic. There is a whole host of anti-Trump people with megaphones yelling, “Dump Trump,” or whatever. (Wouldn’t it be funny if that worked? Like if Donald Trump came to his window, heard “Dump Trump,” and decided this just wasn’t worth it anymore as a tear trickled down his face? “Dump Trump? That’s really mean. I’m going to quit now.”)
There’s also a gaggle of Trump supporters who are there to specifically yell at the Trump protesters. (It’s nice everyone has a place in this ecosystem, I guess.) I wish I could put into words exactly what I saw that day when the Snorlax hunters engulfed the Trump supporters and protesters. The best I can do is say it was something like out of The Blob. I heard some shrieks. I heard a couple of Trump supporters call the Pokémon Go players “losers,” (always on message, those people). It was anarchy. And, my gosh, it was so much fun. I caught the Snorlax.
In subsequent visits, I’ve randomly run into people I know who were there doing the same thing (which makes me feel better about being there, to be honest). There are now vendors who sell unlicensed Pokémon memorabilia. I have not purchased any.
The last time I was there, just last weekend, I went trouncing into Central Park after dark and stumbled into a couple making out in the woods. Embarrassed, I mumbled something like, “I’m not here to kill you, I just needed a Kabuto,” and quickly ran away.
The thing I wasn’t expecting about going to this spot was just how much it would make me like this game. I like it more now than I did when it was a craze.
I primarily work from home. There’s an Uproxx office in New York, but my editor lives in Chicago, so it doesn’t do a lot of good for me to go to the office. The problem is, on the days I don’t have something to be at, it’s easy to not leave the apartment. There have been a couple times over the last year I’ve suddenly realized I haven’t been outside in three days. That doesn’t happen anymore. I’ve started to spend money on the game to buy incubators. Incubators hatch eggs. You have to walk to hatch eggs. Knowing I can hatch eggs, I want to go on walks.
Often, still, I’ll find myself walking a little over two miles to Grand Army Plaza, where the Pokémon GO craze still lives. (I mean, it’s a social event where I literally don’t have to talk to anybody. This is my dream social event.) And sometimes I find myself running … along with a German man named Josh who I just met 45 seconds before, which led to this awkward exchange after:
[Both out of breath]
Me: “That was fun.”
Josh: [With a thick German accent] “Yes.”
Me: “Okay, well I’m going to go home now.”
Josh: “I’m going to go back to Grand Army Plaza.”
Me: “Cool. See you later, buddy.”
Josh: “Okay?” [Then gives me a look that says, “I literally don’t know you and have no idea why you called me ‘buddy’ or why you think we will see each other later.”]
Me: “Okay, yeah, well, err…”
Then I turned around and walked home. On the way home, I hatched a Snorlax.
Mike Ryan lives in New York City and has written for The Huffington Post, Wired, Vanity Fair and New York magazine. He is senior entertainment writer at Uproxx. You can contact him directly on Twitter.
