Our son, Dru, just turned 21 and the family went to New York
City to celebrate. Though I lived there for a while in my early twenties, years
spent in Virginia have morphed me into someone who looks at Manhattan like it’s
a different country, or maybe a different planet. The place is an amazing
amalgam of razzle dazzle superimposed upon some very poignant moments in time.
We stayed in a hotel that wanted to charge more as a fee for
our dog than most people would expect to pay in total for a night’s stay. And the
world of hoity-toity has a few surprises to it. Like, only the front half of
the tub shower has a door on it. Not sure why they do it this way, but your
naked little tookus has to stand exposed and a lil’ chilly there at the back.
And what’s with the sink that looks more like a dish than a place to wash up?
It couldn’t be more than two or three inches deep without the first hint of
counter or even a lip around it: total splashing, all over everything. You end
up soaked from the shirt to the feet and then you almost slip and fall in the pool
that’s all over the floor.
Our daughter, Kirstyn, drove in from Boston to meet us. When
she called around eleven o’clock Friday evening to say she was pulling up in
front of the hotel, I was of course already in my comfies. I’m talkin’ plaid
flannel pants, with matching top, and gun boat sized slippers. I guess it was a
lapse in judgment but I decided I could sneak down to greet Kirstyn and help
her carry things up. The elevator opened onto a lobby filled with the City’s trendiest
and most glamorous Out-and-Abouts. It
looked like a modeling agency had unleashed its client list on some gala event.
These people were decked and coiffed and made-up like it was to be their finest
hour. I was ready for bed and they were lined up, willing to wait hours for a
chance to go to the hotel’s rooftop deck and drink with others who were willing
to do the same thing. Kirstyn took one look at me and all but shoved me into her
car to hide me away. “Mom! You’re in your pajamas,”
she gasped. I’m sure the walk back through the lobby was painful for her and
threatened never to end.
Out exploring the next morning, we moved with the
crowds, en masse, from street corner to street corner whenever the zipping cars
yielded territory by allowing a two or three foot gap to come about between
them. You move quickly in those circumstances. The gap doesn’t last long.
We took the subway downtown. At the entrance, a woman sang
opera by herself on the steps. As soon as the doors to the subway car closed, a
mariachi band popped out of nowhere and treated us to a lively south of the
border set. When they moved on, two guys jumped up and switched on what looked
like a BoomBox from yesteryear. They took turns clapping while the other swung from
handles, did flips in the air and contorted his body in very impressive fashion.
The rest of us could hardly keep our balance while seated and these guys were
doing a full acrobatic routine while the train raced down the track at what
seemed like the speed of light.
A woman and her three young children sat across from us. The
kids were adorable. The mother was frightening. She punched them and snarled
into their little faces and spoke through gritted teeth. It was all I could do
to mind my own business. Others sat and looked straight ahead, as though it were
commonplace to see a mother cower her children in public for unapparent
infractions.
We made our way to Battery Park at the southernmost tip of
Manhattan. From the subway we walked by Castle Clinton, one of four forts built
in the early 1800’s to defend the New York Harbor from invasion by the British.
The fort is made of brick. In its day, it was armed with 28 cannons, each one
capable of shooting a 32 pound cannonball a distance of 1.5 miles. Imagine such
a defense today. Openings for the cannons were placed every few feet. You could
almost see the barrels protruding in anticipation of a harbor full of Tall
Ships and British soldiers dressed in their white pants, tall black boots, and short
jackets crossed with the white stripes from shoulder to shoulder. In those days,
life looked much different. There were no paved streets filled with cars just
itching to run you over. There was no subway and there were no skyscrapers. It’s
hard to picture a New York City of 1812, when Americans were still fending off
invasion from our Mother Country.
We cruised the harbor out to Ellis Island and were humbled
by the beauty and impact of the Statue of Liberty. Like many people, I
tend to take my citizenship for granted. As we circled this amazing symbol of aspiration,
I felt like a tourist. I must have taken fifty pictures, none of which was much
different than the one before it. But the aura was so powerful I felt I had to
keep memorializing it. Finally, I stopped and just watched in silence as she passed
before us. I couldn’t help but think how daunting it must have been for the
thousands of immigrants who arrived at our shores in the early days, sick and
weak and often alone, a small bag in hand to stand for the entirety of their
worldly possessions. They struck out against terrible odds in the hope of
finding the freedom and opportunity of a new land that had managed to sparkle
with the promise of those things and more. I am mindful of how lucky we are to live in this country, as we listen to so many criticisms and accusations swirl around as part of the Presidential election.
From Battery Park we walked to Ground Zero. Beautiful new
towers are in the midst of their construction, but the footprint of that
terrible day remains to remind us of what terror looks like up close. I remember
the photographs of thick smoke billowing down the street, overtaking people as
they ran for their lives. Wherever the ravages of war take up, whatever the
particular mechanism of delivery, it is all so horrifying. Trials and
tribulations of everyday life in Roanoke, Virginia, or anywhere else, seem so
trifling when you stand before a monument to senseless devastation.
At the end of the day, we dined at a restaurant that, from
the street, looked like a nice Italian eatery. Once inside, after it was too
late to turn and run away, I felt like a peasant who’d wandered outside my
element. Elegance oozed from every corner and the wait staff seemed like
royalty compared to us. There must have been half a dozen courses, with little
gifties from the chef brought out now and again all decorated and sauced up and
garnished on the plate. We had so many attendants at the table I couldn’t keep
them all straight. There was a Prix Fixe,
which is Fench for Incredibly Expensive. When the bill came, I couldn’t bring
myself to look at it. I just signed quickly at the bottom and let the kids
figure the tip. When that particular credit card statement comes in, I’ll have
to have a drink before I open it.
Our last stop of the night was at the Gotham Comedy Club.
There was an MC, the most foul-mouthed individual I’ve ever heard. She made us
laugh constantly. The warm-up act was also hysterical and, by the time the
headliner came out, we were ready to laugh out loud at everything the man had
to say. And we did. If John Heffron comes to town, I recommend him as a very funny comic.
On Sunday morning, we ate leftovers in our room and called
it brunch, then sang Happy Birthday to Dru around the cake we had made ourselves and
brought with us. We were all in our comfies this time. Our dog, Harley, sat
among us begging for food as any dog worth his outrageous keep will do.
We
chatted about the weekend. There’d been some decadence, for which we will pay
dearly over the next several years at about 18%. We rubbed elbows with a way of
life that seems utterly un-doable to me, but which excites and enthralls
millions of people. Remnants of history and remnants of tragedy made themselves
available so we could travel to different times and unfathomable experiences
that put other things in context. Then, full of a mixture of so many thoughts,
we laughed our butts off and watched our baby boy do his part by drinking up his
two drink minimum. I’d spent his whole life keeping him away from the stuff.
That night, I helped him pick out good cocktails and watched him get a buzz on. I’m
still a little conflicted about that.
Anyway, a trip to New York City. Very full, and we had a great time.
