So far, the worst experience I’ve had in the city: on a cold, dark, rainy winter night, about 10:15 pm the wind is gusting the rain, threatening to blow out my umbrella and the bus for which I have been waiting, standing on the corner, rides by without checking the bus stop, doesn’t notice me and therefore doesn’t stop!
TWO STARS
Here is A Star.
Annie Gets a Star.
All of the above has nothing to do with the City, except I saw the first star walking down the street but that was after the fact.
The back story:
On ABC is a program titled Pan Am. Having had many PanAm experiences, I tuned in. Immediately it struck me that one of the actors looked like someone from University days of yore. I asked two friends to tune in, check it out, and see if they agreed. I discovered it was not a priority on their list of things-to-do… so I kept -shall I say- prodding and Annie did it, she found a picture! The exact picture of the person to whom I was referring! For that endeavor she asked for and indeed deserves a STAR. [ She said sticker – but she could not have meant ‘bumper sticker’ which is what comes to mind for me, when I think sticker, so she has to mean gold-star-sticker, right?] See the picture comparison. Is it just me, or do these two girls look alike?
Umbrella
The rain stopped. He obviously didn’t need the walking-stick-umbrella, but what to do, they can be cumbersome to carry when not in use. So he did the one thing I’ve never seen anyone do: he hooked the curved wooden handle onto the collar of his shirt, at the back of his neck. The umbrella was not only out of his way, but made him walk very upright. Clever.
Soothing
Classical music plays in the departure hall of Penn Station. What a soothing background for the hustle and bustle of travel. Well done!
Ouch!
It is often the smallest event that reminds me of the cost of living in a metropolis. I have a shopping bag, made of parachute fabric that folds small and is always with me, to whip out when needed. Today, because it had a 4″ rip down the side, I took it to my friendly seamstress at the cleaners down the block to ask her to please stitch it up. She did. The charge: $5! She gave me an out when she said ‘Is that OK?’ My reply was that I had hoped it would be less. ‘Then 3’, she said. Of course I paid it without another word, but I hoped it would be 1.
Chinese New Year
Monday was New Year’s Day for the Chinese Community in the City and today, Tuesday there was quiet in Chinatown. Many of the stalls were not open but there were lots of articles in red and gold being touted. I asked a person or two what they had done to make New Year’s Day special. The consistent answer was dinner with foods they love – fish and chicken were mentioned each time – resulting in too much eating. No one spoke of other activities that might be combined with the day. Some celebrated a New Year’s Eve and others New Year’s Day. One young woman said she didn’t know a lot about it, her mother did, but hadn’t really told her. How culture becomes watered down when the children are born in America. It is the year-of-the-Dragon. I understand the symbols are based on astrology and the Dragon is fire, but this year has something to do with water; obviously I didn’t get enough information. Saturday there will be the 13th Annual Chinatown Lunar New Year Parade. Check in your cities for similar celebrations this Saturday.
Could it Be?
He caught my attention because he, well, looked hip and was handsome/cute. He sort of sprang through the subway’s open door, sleek, shiny, dressed all in black, except his shoes which were chamois color lace-up boots. But he was wearing two left shoes. Was it possible? I kept tracking it and there was no doubt both of the toes veered off in the same direction. I’m still not sure. A few feet away from where he stood, sat another male passenger wearing suave purple patent leather slip-ons’. About the color of those I have no doubt.
What Do You Think?
She boarded the bus but I did not pay her attention except to notice she was well dressed and that she sat down behind me. A stop later the bus driver turned around in his chair and said ‘Miss, would you come here please’. He was looking right at me. I pointed to myself, ‘Me’ I asked? Yes, He said. ‘Me?’ I asked again, but this time he said, ‘You know why I want you to come here’. I was completely at a loss. I turned around to see if there could be someone else in his line of fire and she stood up. As she approached him, he said,’ You know why I want to see you. I have told you you can’t keep using that ticket. You have to…’ “I’ll get off here,” she interrupted him. He kept the door closed. ‘ You have been told before you have to have a current ticket just like everyone else. It is the free riders that make the prices go up.’ Speaking as he was driving, he then pulled into the curb for the following stop. As she was disembarking, a man across the aisle from me called out ‘let her ride. What does it matter to you?’ But no one stood up to pay her fare which I expected might happen. The shouting man was seated in front of another nicely dressed woman in her early 50’s who said in reply, ‘You paid, didn’t you? Everyone else on the bus paid, didn’t we, why should she ride free?’ He argued with her that he had a heart and she didn’t. She replied that it had nothing to do with heart but everything to do with playing by the rules. The talk was firm but gentle. Each one held their ground.
The Small Case
Walking home on a night-shaded street in the Village, from the most awful theatre production I have attended, perhaps ever, I pass a small, single handle, brown-colored plastic attache-like-case. It is sitting out on the curb of the sidewalk with the black plastic garbage sacks, waiting for during-the-night-collection. The small case catches my eye and attention because it appears to be set apart, alone, looks unused and is the perfect size for – well, the perfect size for adding to a collection of small cases. But I don’t touch it. What if by touching it, or trying to open it, it detonates. In my mind – Gladwell’s Blink– occurs and I remember the heightened security I saw at Penn Station yesterday noon and the blocking off of Times Square access on Monday night. So I leave the small case alone. But of course I am curious, was it empty?
Paranoia
On a Sunday morning when the subway riders are few and mostly male, and these males are mostly dressed in somber colors and when in my car one begins to pray and another is chant, I begin to wonder if I’m are perhaps in the wrong place at the wrong time. As someone told me, if a suspicious male ever raises his hands, palms upwards, while doing any of the above, there is a really good chance you are in the wrong place at the wrong time and not a second to do anything about it. These thoughts were passing through my head last Sunday.