manhattan

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

What’s a place, habit, or moment that reliably feels a little bit enchanted to you?

This is a great prompt.

I have thought about it for well over a week.

A place: Oh. There are so many.

A habit: Oh. There are so many.

A moment: Oh. There are so many.

I keep coming back to the same place, habit, moment. I don’t know if it’s the date. The time. Or the anniversary. But here is where it brings me.

In January 2000, I moved to the Financial District in Manhattan. Only a few blocks from Wall Street. This was just as people were starting to move into the area. In the two years that I lived there, many office buildings were converted into apartments, and the streets became much more active at night.

But, in January, 2000, it was very quiet after 6:00 p.m. The Wall Street boys all spread to wherever they spent their evenings.

Can I stop for a minute, and say, Wall Street boys are what I’ve always called White Shirts. As I walked around in the area on my way to work, after work, or for my lunch break, the streets were filled with White Shirts. Men in white shirts, almost always with a tie, hardly ever with a jacket. Back then, I’m not sure they even made dress shirts in blue, or stripes, or any other color. 95% of the men on the street had white shirts, and maybe it’s just me, but each one seemed hotter than the next.

A funny story, that I’m not sure I’ve ever told anyone, is that I lived about a five-minute walk from my office. A half block south, and a half block east. One day just as I was approaching the corner I looked to my left and saw two very handsome men, I smiled at one of them, and two seconds later, I heard him exclaim, “Hey, that guy just checked me out.” I kept walking, not wanting to get beaten up on my way to work, but he was indeed very handsome.

I lived very close to my office, so when I finished up at the end of the day, whether it was 5:00 or 7:00 it was a quick walk home. There was very little to do in the area. And I mean very little. All the stores closed by 6:00. There were no restaurants open in the evening, except the rotisserie chicken place up the street, that didn’t have an indoor presence, only take out. I ordered from there a lot. Their mashed sweet potatoes were to die for.

So.

Unless, I wanted to take the train uptown to where civilization existed past 6:00, there was very little to do.

Except.

There was a movie theater in Battery Park, that opened right after I moved there. 16 screens. State of the art. I would often walk over to see a movie after dinner. It was probably a 15 to 20-minute walk. (I just looked it up. 16-minute walk according to MapQuest, who still recognizes Lake Superior).

I think for the 2 years I lived there, I saw almost every movie showing. I showed up and just saw whatever was playing. My worst excursion there was buying a ticket to Kirk Cameron’s Left Behind: The Movie. It was HORRIBLE. HE WAS HORRIBLE. And who knew a movie about the Rapture could be so bad. It really made you hope that you got Left Behind.

My favorite part of seeing movies in Battery Park was the walk home. It was only 16 minutes, but if I veered right on my way, I’d walk by the World Trade Centers. What I discovered was that if I saw a move at 7:30/8:00 or so at Battery Park, then my walk home was very quiet.

Very Quiet.

And the area between The World Trade Centers was VERY QUIET. I’d often stop and sit between the towers and contemplate the world. For me, it always seemed like I was sitting between two mountains beside a creek. With the fountain flowing, and buildings towering miles above, the city always seemed peaceful there. Some nights I’d sit for an hour just thinking, watching, listening.

It was always magical to be there, often alone at 11:00 at night.

Truth be told, had 9/11 not occurred, there was an expiration date on the magic. The city was growing. People were moving into the Wall Street area in record numbers. The nights of quiet and solitude were waning.

But for a brief shining moment, it was my magical place in New York City. A place to sit quietly and contemplate life’s meaning.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Hi.

I lied.

I didn’t post in NYC. I brought my computer. But I didn’t take it out of the bag once.

I was having too much fun, and was exhausted when I got home every night.

However, the fog seems to have lifted.

It was gone by the time we crossed into Manhattan last Monday.

Last week was a whirlwind.

11 shows in 7 days.

Lots of great meals.

One fucking amazing meal.

Lots of great walks. I’m very grateful for my new knee.

One of the best afternoons I had was sitting in Central Park, people watching. And by people watching, I mean watching shirtless boys jog by.

It really was a great week.

As for the shows.

They all had merit, and in case you haven’t noticed in the 15 years I’ve been posting about theater, I rarely ever tell you a show is bad. Too many people, work too hard, for me to post publicly that it’s not worth seeing.

That being said.

Hell’s Kitchen. Wonderful. Those actors sang their asses off, and the voices. Amazing. We saw it the day the Tony’s were announced so there was a special energy in the room. I actually made Adam wait by the stage door with me, which I never, ever do. But then it rained before the leads made their way out.

The Notebook. Oh, my goodness. I had never seen the movie, or read the book. Had no idea what it was about. I boo hooed through the whole show. Although. Not as loudly as the girl sitting next to us. You’d have thought her mother had just died.

Mother Play. Disturbing. Deep. So well-acted. But hard to watch as a gay man.

Suffs was fun. And I love that it will have a long, long, long life after NYC in regional theaters, colleges and universities, and it’s only a matter of time till a high school produces it.

The rest were all fun and I’m glad I saw them. But these moved me the most.

It did feel good to pull into the driveway last night though.

We were glad to be home.

It was weird driving each way. When we left yesterday, NYC was in full spring mode. It was green from the rain on Sunday. Trees had leaves. There were annuals in pots on the streets.

As we drove north, things became less green, until we got to Maine, where the trees have buds on them, but most do NOT have leaves yet.

We also saw a few famousish people.

J. Harrison Ghee saw Hell’s Kitchen a few seats down from us.

Judy Davis sat behind us at lunch.

LaChanze.

Micheal Grief.

Ronnie Larson.

Patti Lupone was in line with us when we saw Oh Mary. She sat in the orchestra, we were in the balcony.

And we saw Rollerena, a NYC personality if there ever was one.

When you are a New Yorker you don’t bother famous people, and you definitely don’t ask for an autograph or take a photo. So. I have no proof of these encounters.

We also used my friend David’s theory on parking tickets while in the city. We chose NOT to move our car for alternate side of the street parking. The first time we did NOT get a ticket. The second time we did. It was worth the price of the ticket to not have to pay to park, and to not have to get up and move the car.

All in all it was a great trip.

But.

It feels good to be home.

I feel better than I did before I left.

And.

That’s what I’m most grateful for.