Happy Birthday, Jesus!
So I went into the Big City yesterday to visit with my dentist for a cleaning. It was rough – I had had to postpone this event again and again due to the fact that I had not felt up to it what with that big giant hole in my back and all. But I did it, sort of a test case for what I hope will be some occasional visit with my photographer friends and my lovely giant DSLR around my neck, in the coming season.
My trip was a glorious success. I found my way south after my gleaming, shining teeth were checked out of my Doctor’s office. Planes overhead needed to divert course when I smiled. And smile I did. I walked over to 5th Avenue outside of the “Park” and joined hundreds of people young and old, not a one of them speaking recognizable English, and endured yet another driver pulling my MetroCard from my eager fingers and inserting it properly. I was mortified several times about this. For once, I appreciated the Tower of Babel that the bus has become, albeit a horizontal one.
When I rode the city buses and trains way back when, it was a paper slip you were handed, with all sorts of instructions printed on it, the date and all that. There is no paper, and for me, the busy technophile, that should be a no-brainer. Yet, my reversion to Miss City native prevented me from accepting the reality that you need to put it in This Way!!!! The only redeeming fact was that I figured Nobody on the Bus Understood what I was being Reprimanded for!!!!
On said bus, I was offered a seat by a nice older gentleman. I tried to refuse, honestly. Part of my test was if i could balance myself while the vehicle lurched and careened through holiday streets. So I sat, it turned out, between his companions, a woman who announced that they were from “Alabama.” Oh, great. Another foreign country, I thought. For you have to understand, aside from some great songs by the Allman Brothers in the early ’70’s, I don’t know much about Alabama except that was where Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated after a great speech. So these folks, were similar to meeting sort of an enemy, people who stood against everything I believed in. If they only knew, I was thinking, espying my antibiotic prescription slip peeking over my Kindle cover in my too-small purse for this trip. I was hoping that they thought it was for like some tranquilizer or something, that i was a crazy person traveling to and from an important psychological clinic.
On we went, while little townie on my left pointed her face at me, because she wanted to see out the window, and carried on a conversation across me with townie on my right. She totally ignored, or maybe didn’t understand when I asked her what museum they had been to. Oh, well. Selective deafness, I figured.
She did opine how much she liked the tall buildings. Sure, Opie, they are really really big! I wanted to tell her how she wouldn’t like them so much if she had to do this trip every single day, five times a week, crawl herself up to some desk, change into high heels and run around at the beck and call of some lawyer who was either late with their Federal Express shipments or missing a file because they brought it home to work on it all night and fell asleep after putting the kids to bed and sipping from a bottle of wine. Sure, you love the tall buildings, but there are people in those tall building shivering in their high heels over whether they will have enough money to repair their destroyed houses and lives after Superstorm Sandy.
Rockefeller Center is always bustling. I love the fact that i am alone there, alone in my native-hood, experience and voluntary lameness about the names of each building, each restaurant, and how do you get ice-skates on your feet anyway!
I had jumped off the bus to get a good walk in toward the Christmas Tree, and felt on my own from there. I am reminded that the avenues of New York City are actually a big giant mall, where there are full size stores instead of little storefronts along an aisle with a “you are here” sign strategically placed somewhere near the restrooms. Not a single attraction for me. I can’t imagine what luxurious item I may need other than to pronounce in my mouth, the names of stores you hear mention of in old 50’s movies with Lauren Bacall modeling her stunning fashions.
On the way home again, I needed to jump on a bus loaded with smelly construction workers who were sprawled over two seats, and mostly asleep, grasping their communication devices in their sweaty little palms. With all due respect, this was not my favorite environment.
Well, I got home okay, and am sure I can do it again, if I just rest a bit here and there, which is doable in a city like NEW YORK.
And, before I forget, happy birthday, Jesus – we are doing it in style again for you!