New York Story

Gauntlet thrown... I have had some anxiety this week about having a suitable adventure.
I may have a few that are not for public consumption... but.
Maybe this week is just a different kind of story.

A summary:
-Saw Mary Stuart on Broadway. (really excellent, Janet McTeer is stunning)
-Went to a potluck/ discussion on the food crisis in Brooklyn (fun, delicious, informative)
-Listened to no less than 5 episodes of This American Life while 'at work' (hehe)
-Ate some ridiculous cupcake (Crumbs Bakery on University and 13th)
-Went to a great yoga class at Exhale (Central Park South)
-Saw off the soon-to-be-missed Dave and Chelsey at a going away party in the West Village
-Went to Matt Wilson's new play, The Box Man, based on the Kobo Abe. (captivating, bizarre, loved it)
-Drank beers in Riverside Park on a warm night, talked theatre, saw some stars.
-Discovered good coffee in my neighborhood alongside the fluffiest omelet. ever. at the Indian Rd. Cafe
-Explored Inwood Hill Park, took a long walk in the woods, saw the caves, forgot I was in the city



Friday afternoon, I am waiting for the R Train at 57th.

There is a young, black man lying on the train platform, convulsing, surrounded by policemen, just staring. Silent, emotionless. The other people on the platform are doing that dance of looking while trying not to look like they are looking.

The train arrives and I sit down next to an abandoned cookie, an old newspaper. A young woman gets on at 49th and sits opposite me. There's always a negotiation involved in the set up of these train cars. You're facing someone, looking at them, but you can't stare, can't examine. This woman sitting opposite me has obviously had something horrible just happen to her. She is red-faced, puffy-eyed, clutching a tissue. She is trying with everything she has not to break down.

I remember a day I had like this last summer. Standing on the platform at Gallery Place/Chinatown in DC. I was trying so hard not to show it on my face, not to lose it outright. This stranger came up to me. He had really dark skin and a crisp, pink shirt. His girlfriend had nudged him, pointed me out. He put one arm around me. "You all right, girl?"

I try to catch the woman's eye, give her a... smile? ask silently 'are you okay?'
She is trying not to look at anyone. She's looking up, down, at the wall, shuddering a little. Tiny, quiet sobs.

The train stops at 34th and a blue M&M gets on the train.
The doors open, and this bright blue, peanut M&M rolls through, takes a sharp right and stops, comfortable. Like it's found a handhold on the rail and room to set down a briefcase.

The M&M is directly between me and the crying woman. Equidistant. An ambassador. I look at her. She has seen the M&M. She looks at me. She is still teary, but her mouth is open and the corners have a little turn in them, her eyes are bright. We look at each other for a second, look back at the M&M. She tucks her tissue into her purse, decidedly.

The train pulls into 23rd Street. I get up, nod goodbye to the woman, step carefully around the M&M and off the train.


Of note.
Indian Rd. Cafe (218th and Isham Rd. - Inwood)- Great food and coffee, a nice staff of young long haired boys that look like they should be in a Peter Greenaway film, trivia nights on Wednesdays
The Noodle Bar (26 Carmine - W.Village) I got the steamed cod in black bean sauce. yum.
The Rickshaw (23rd and 5th) duck dumplings. what? I still can't say 'rickshaw' without the suspicion I'm being racist somehow
Goodwill (23rd and 6th??) bought 3 skirts for $17. yeah-huh.
Barrow St. Alehouse (22 Barrow St., West Village) Cheapish beers, male-heavy clientele and I was accused by a large, bald employee wearing a dog collar of paying for a pool game and then voluntarily breaking the pool cues before I could play. No, no I didn't do that, Mister. but yes, I know, look at me. I'm clearly out for destruction.