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February 13th
This would be a good time to list a couple of my favorite moments in this city thus far. Most are things you notice, not stuff that happens to you. They are things that occur on every street, every minute and if you're lucky you catch a glimpse of them when you are out of your own head and daily worries enough to actually notice them. They are instances that may occur in other cities, but certainly not with the same frequency or intensity or (Olympic vocabulary word coming up) amplitude that you find here in NYC.
GOLD MEDAL MOMENT:
I'm walking into the Times Square Subway station at around 1am on a Tuesday
evening. There is always a music or dance performance of some sort going
on in the main area of this subway stop. This area is about the size of
a large ballroom, only it's got a very short ceiling and is made of concrete.
So, there is always only ONE act at a time. More than that would be too
useless as you wouldn't be able to discern one performed sound over another.
Well, on this night there is a cacophonous noise like you wouldn't believe. In their usual spot is the ever-present evening performance of the three young men with their plastic garbage cans and drumsticks, banging away. It's usually very precise, musical and, frankly, enjoyable. However, tonite, it doesn't sound quite right. I walk down the steps past the steps to the 1,2,&3 trains and see why. There, not TWENTY feet from the boys is a man, in full Scottish regalia, blowing away on his bagpipes. LOUDLY.
They are staring each other down. A sonic game of chicken in which everyone, especially the passenger, loses. I stand right between them for about five minutes, laughing. Like a little kid watching a circus. I revel in it. I want to jump into the water and splash around, create some spontaneous havoc to match the noise. I don't think I've ever enjoyed such a pre-adolescent moment as much as I did then and there. Beautiful. Only in NYC. I find myself saying that a lot.
SILVER MEDAL MOMENT:
Every trip on the Q train at dusk. The Q travels over the Manhattan Bridge,
and at dusk, as you look south over the East River as it connects with
the Hudson, you have a perfect view of Lady Liberty and Ellis Island,
the sun setting behind her. Just to the right of that, lower Manhattan,
sans the WTC. If I ever need to be reminded of why I came to this place
at this time, it simply takes a mere glance up from my Post, out the window.
A smile as I look ahead, followed by unavoidable tears as I look to the
right. Beauty, terror and holiness. My past, present, and future in a
fleeting passive moment. Once I move to Manhattan those trips will be
no more. but at least I know that view is there. I might have to take
the short ride every now and again.
