Of all the neighborhoods in Manhattan, Midtown (though it’s more hellmouth than neighborhood) is by far the most unique in terms of the type of ilk it draws toward its nexus. You’ve got your overweight Midwestern tourists, your thin, awestruck European tourists and then you have Gordon Gekko in Wall Street types mixed with Patrick Bateman in American Psycho types.
Midtown is even above Wall Street in terms of the combination of materialistic, mood disordered fucks it lures into its clutches. Perhaps because, in general, only “legitimate” businesses can afford to pay the rent on office space in Midtown is why the salaries tend to be higher (or at least above the poverty line by New York standards). Hence, you’ve got quite an array of mentally unstable–from depressive to narcissistic–money-obsessed bottom-feeders commingling in a space that isn’t big enough to contain them. But at least there are oodles of Pret a Mangers to sustain them.