The Way We Live Now: Fleeing the crumbling aftermath of a disaster-stricken hellscape. Having taken in the stark, hopeless, post-apocalyptic nature of their once-thriving home, citizens are getting out however they can. (Manhattanites, we mean.)
During the grand old days, grand old people had a grand old plan: buy the grand old Plaza Hotel for a grand old sum, and make it into an even grander new place, for grand people to spend their grands.
What options remain, for high-falutin Manhattanites? Sure, college presidents are making mad money nonstop forever and ever (fat stacks), but how many colleges are there in Manhattan? No more than a few hundred. Furthermore, the college students themselves—the ones who make the monies go to the college presidents—are so poor they are now renting college textbooks, like common library people. Economists tell us the "trickle down" effect of this hurts not only college presidents who wanted to live in that fat Plaza penthouse, but also CEOs of textbook publishing companies who wanted to move to Manhattan, and live in a fat Plaza penthouse. Either way, goodbye Manhattan dreamin'.