While Coolie Coolstein and Barbie Blue continue to swirl through as yet unknown galaxies, I got caught in a matrix of time and space as well.
The workmen arrived early. That’s not supposed to happen. And by 8:15 they had begun to do some renovations to the floors in my apartment – making a hellish noise but worse, creating smells that set me a-running. Solvents and gluey stuff. I knew it was happening, so me and my live-in bodyguard had an agenda for the day. We couldn’t loll at home, but – as my takes-it-as-it comes mother said: “At least you’re in Manhattan, and there’s plenty to do.”
Our day (which was supposed to begin at 10 – a far more civilized hour) was predicated on it being sunny and in the high 70’s. That’s what the lying weatherfolk said. They just toy with us, you know. But it rained for the first few hours of our jaunt and it was damn chilly. The sounds of rain pelting the A/C unit had awakened me before 5am, so my ass was dragging as we stumbled onto Broadway. It was too early to do anything so we veered into Starbucks. Sanctuary, I thought. WHOA! Here’s where my alternate universe cuts in…
When did they start playing loud music? What happened to that place you could go and maybe work on your novel in peace, without being bothered? I made it for twenty minutes. Not only was there a sensory assault, there was a brewing rumble by the bathroom. Someone had taken it hostage, according to the wild-eyed guy who was waiting to get in. No. He really was wild-eyed: they moved in two different directions, like an owl. He was intermittently (every minute) pounding on the door to the single toilet in the place. A line had collected behind him and it was getting ugly. I had that feeling you get (if you’re lucky) just before a landslide or an avalanche or a shoot-out. So I grabbed my partner and got the fuck out of Dodge.
Adrenalin receding, we relocated to the diner down the block. No music. No hassle. Peace. But you’ve got to order more than a cup of coffee, so a nice omelet seemed like a good idea. I remembered having breakfast already, but…what the hey?
An early movie was in our plans, but first we scoped out the possible places for lunch near the theater. Can you see how food might be the thematic structure? Sun made an appearance – but a strangely cold wind was blowing underneath. We hurried inside and waited for the movie to begin. Oh, right. The time they say it starts is really when twenty minutes of trailers begin. It was 10:45 and I’d already eaten all my popcorn (I know, I know.)
We reappeared in the now more consistent sunlight at 1pm. Entourage didn’t disappoint; we are both fans of the TV show – so it was like visiting with old friends. A few good yuks and half price for the early show. You can’t beat that.
Can you guess what time it was? Yes. Lunchtime. I was starting to feel like a turkey on November 1st. It was all so redolent of my childhood: Eat, Totie, eat. A little more?
Our afternoon event was the annual Crafts Fair at Lincoln Center. It’s a special accumulation of artists and artisans. I look forward to it every spring. But I was kind of done, and the guys were still working on the floors, so free will was not being exercised. That ass that was dragging earlier, had dropped a foot or two. Rats. Forgot to go to the bathroom in the restaurant. (That’s the sub-theme.) One issue you tend not to think about when you aren’t a wandering Jew. Ferreting out hospitable toilets…not my favorite thing. Okay. Back to the schlep.
Now the sun is out. Am I happy? No. Because now we’re walking up and down the endless aisles of crafts and it is hot. There are too many people, many of them are in wheel chairs, many of them are aged and not moving apace. I’ve got too much paraphernalia in my purse and waaa! I wanna go home.
Stopped off on the way for my accomplice to get a smoothie (hmmm!!)
Home. Be it ever so humble, there’s running water and climate control. And things to sit on and lay down on. Heaven.