~ February 25, 2004 - 10:05 p.m. ~
Moments in the Woods
Oh, if life were made of moments . . . even now and then a bad one! But if life were only moments, then you'd never know you had one. The Baker's Wife
Into the Woods
Stephen Sondheim
It's gotten to the point where I don't know if I love or hate the city. The convenience and simultaneous inconvenience of things has begun to make me buggy. Yes, I am walking distance from all the basic necessities of life (Grocery stores, drug stores, clothing shops, a library [ok, so that's only a necessity in my world]), as well as a subway to take me anywhere I want to go. I am a twenty minute train ride from an ancient Egyptian temple. How cool is that? But God forbid I want to leave the city, or do my laundry, and then we're talking a world of inconvenience for those without mucho deniero.
So I start thinking about why I love the city, this as I'm walking home from Gaelic class, and it's not like those are super-easy to come by in every corner of the world. And as I'm starting to think that it's because this appears to be the once place where I am able (provided I've got the financial means) do to pretty much anything I want (like have fajitas brought to me at four in the morning, just before I decide to go out and pick up some blue hair dye, hypothetically), I suddenly hear bagpipes.
It's 9:20 pm. Where the fuck are those bagpipes coming from?
University Place, apparently. So I'm now walking up Fifth Avenue, listing to the sound of bagpipes a black away grow closer, and staring straight ahead at the Empire State Building, which is alight with the colors of my alma mater (purple and white). I am faced with a choice: do I go chasing after the bagpipes, or do I stay on course for the drugstore where I can get dish soap? I choose the dish soap. And then I begin to regret my decision, I start to realize that moments like this in which I have the choice to go do something crazy that only Manhattan can offer are the reason I love this town. I as I stand in line at the Duane Reade waiting to pay for my dish soap and scowling because I don't think I take advantage of the crazy choices Manhattan offers me, I hear a voice behind me say:
"If this were a movie, this line here, you wouldn't be able to tell what the weather was like."
I turn around to face the man behind me. "Huh?"
He points to the girl in front of me, clad in thin, pajama-y looking pants and a light hoodie. "Well, look at her. She's not dressed too warm there. But then look at you, all bundled up. Then, well, just look at me!"
I look at the girl in front of me, then quietly regard myself -- wrapped in a long woolen scarf, a large knit hat, and wrapped into a knee-length woolen over-coat with a hood � before giving the man a once over. He is in jeans and a pea-coat (no scarf) with a beret.
"See?" He goes on. "If this were a movie, the audience wouldn't know what season it was. It'd be a huge mess, continuity-wise. See, it's the little things in life that really count, you know?"
I brandish the bag of Cadbury Mini Eggs I am purchasing along with my dish soap. "Yeah, like when the Easter candy comes out. That's a big little moment for me."
"You like Easter candy?" He asks, surprised.
"Oh yeah."
"Than you must really love it the day after Easter when it all goes on sale."
"Yup. Me and my sister-in-law love that. We're here loading up baskets full of mini eggs." I am really laying on thick, smiling demurely as I do so.
He blinks. "And you eat all that yourselves?"
"Till we're sick."
We look at each other and smile a moment. I am still thinking about the shopping line as a movie, and I giggle.
"You know, you've got a really nice smile."
I smile wider, my dangerous smile, annoyed because I know that this is going to turn into a pickup routine if I'm not careful. If it's not already. "Thanks."
Fortunately, the cashier waits on me next, and I leave un-pickup-lined-at, and therefore happy. And I walk out of the store, back up Fifth Avenue, towards my own, not-quite-personal alma mater Empire State Beacon, realizing that a moment, one peculiar passing moment, has completely changed my day.
