Long ago and far away my best friend and I would dream about what it would be like for me to live in New York City. She would pretend she was going to live there too, but the discussions were always about my perfect New York City experience. We talked about the big building on the West Side I would live in, the doorman who would tip his hat and smile as I walked down our beautiful stairs. I would be New York skinny, with a fun skirt and fabulous purse. The flower merchant on the corner would smile and nod at me while handing me a bloom, just because. I would take the long walk through the park, stop by my favorite breakfast shop, who would have my favorite breakfast food ready, all on my way to my fabulous job. Walking into the building I would say hello to some more faithful doormen and be on my way to an exciting job where I chatted with important people and then could have a fantastic nightlife or a walk through Central Park barefoot if I wanted. Of course some gorgeous Italian guy would then pick me up and throw me on the back of his motorbike and we would be off ....
I have to say, there are days when the dream is mostly a reality. Days when I feel I live a charmed life. Mind you, I'm not New York skinny (yet), and my flower merchant makes me pay for my blooms (she's not won over by my charm somehow) but the rest is pretty true (because the guy on the motorbike will be there someday!).
I think what makes me feel that way, are all my doormen along the way. They're always there with a smile, a nod, a "good morning". Sometimes even an offer to walk me to the subway stop with an umbrella when I've been caught in the rain. These men have no real obligation to me. I don't live or work in their buildings. But we see each other everyday and so it's just nice to say hello.
There's the doormen at Bradjolina's new place, there's the guy who collects for the homeless that smiles and wishes me good morning, Charlie who tells me when the outfit is working, but blows me kisses everyday regardless, Phil at the hotel who smiles and waves, and the stern guard at the building who lets me get away without showing my ID (for a while anyway) or his replacements who let me get by with a smile and a good morning. There's the evening shift who are just as nice.
Sure, you say. They see a lot of people everyday, they're just being nice. They don't really know me. And I think it's true, that's how it starts out. They're professionals afterall, the fronts for their establishments, the greeters.
And then yesterday, I was walking home and I realized that they really are watchmen. PJ in my building always says goodnight and uses my name, as he always has. What surprised me though, was that one of the doormen brothers at the luxury apartment building down the street stopped me on my way worried because he hadn't seen me in a few days. He wanted to make sure everything was okay. I explained I had been away on holiday and he was satisfied, smiled and waved and wished me a good evening.
I realized there are good men all about me and they help to make my New York dreams come true. New York is a charmed city because of them. No girl dreams of staying at the Plaza without picturing the doorman who will get her door. They make New York, New York. So here's to the good men of New York. The watchmen and greeters. The ones who stand ready with a smile and a salutation. Here's to Charlie, Phil, PJ and the Brothers. Thank you.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Missing Something
New York City has fantastic parks and trails, despite being a city. But one thing that Manhattan is missing is a proper beach. Probably because rivers never make good beach fronts. Many New Yorkers have taken to using the lawns in the parks as places to sunbathe. This is not a concept that I have been able to adopt so whenever a sunny weekend should present itself, I go back to my roots and head to the Jersey Shore.
The phrase conjures up a certain stereotype, no doubt. The perma-tan skin, the tattoos, the girls who shouldn't be wearing bikinis strutting in too short jean shorts that are unbuttoned and unzipped, with an equally inviting phrase plastered across each cheek, in case you missed the message they were trying to send. Fortunately, not all Jersey Shore beaches are so "klassy". Our beach of choice has always been Spring Lake, where the single guys are most likely to be doctors or investment bankers or living off a trust fund.
Not that we ever expect to find true love at the beach, it's just that the temperament suits us better.
This last weekend I caught the early train down so we hit the beach front in the height of activity, which meant parking was a nightmare. We drove all around, attempted to squeeze into spaces that were clearly not meant to be squoze into, and we dreamed about which houses we would soon own (emphasis on dream) so that we wouldn't have the battle the next time we came down. Every spot we saw was grabbed by someone else and it seemed that we would have to park way down to have a chance. And then the perfect spot opened. In fact it seemed to have been just waiting for us.
We grab our bags and head down the short block to the beach entrance. Across the street, walking in the same direction, is a guy and what appears to be his girlfriend. Typical college guy build, attractive, but nothing incredibly remarkable. He was wearing a white tshirt and white shorts, aviators. Very unnotable. But something seemed strangely familiar. It couldn't be though, that would be ridiculous. I didn't mention it and kept on in my current conversation. And then he moved his hand, again nothing remarkable, but it seemed to confirm my first suspicions. The chance that we would be walking on the same street, heading to the same beach front, at the same time, come on. It has to be someone else.
We cross the street, they crossed ahead of us as we got caught by traffic. I'd convinced myself it wasn't him, and so didn't pay much attention the rest of the way in. Until strangely there was some commotion where the beach tags are sold, that he was still standing there, he hadn't yet gone onto the beach. I was about 5 feet away, and then I saw his profile - it had to be him. I didn't want to be that person though, the one who shouts a name and it turns out not to be who you thought, so I was about to walk by. But it would bug me all day if I didn't at least try. So in a voice no louder than a speaking voice (which for me is quite soft) I said "Trent?" Slowly, he turns his head, "No way".
He comes over hugs me, introduces the girlfriend, she stands off to the side behind him as he starts just rambling about his work, his family. He looked good, I'm not going to lie, but then again he always was very vain. It had been nearly three years since I saw him. Three years since he told me that I was the girl he wanted to marry, but he wasn't looking to get married for 3 years. Three years since I found out that he was sleeping with his HS girlfriend when he told me he was going to visit family for the weekend. Three years since he told me that I ruined everything, that everything was perfect. Because, afterall, everyone should have their cake and eat it too.
I spent the day wondering why the cosmos thought it necessary to bring us together that day. I thought maybe there was something more to be learned. Maybe our paths were meant to cross for a time again. I even went so far to think that all the garbage could be swept away with some time spent together. I invited him and the girlfriend to come join some friends at my aunt's beach house. Stupid - but I needed to sort out the reason for this. He told me he couldn't because they were going to his grandmother's 80th birthday party ... I think grandma turned 80 3 years ago, too.
Even now, the reason eludes me. I'm still sad when I think about our relationship. It seemed perfect. For years we did everything together. He was my best friend. I suppose though, we both knew that one or the other would have to change to make things work, and neither wanted to require that of the other person.
It's kinda like New York City. I love New York and for this part of my life, it's perfect. But deep down I know I need a yard and a dog and a picket fence and a kitchen the size of a cottage to have the long term dreams in my life complete. And most important, I need a beach. All things that this perfect city cannot offer me. And so somewhere in the future we will part. But for now, I will stay and just visit the Jersey Shore.
The phrase conjures up a certain stereotype, no doubt. The perma-tan skin, the tattoos, the girls who shouldn't be wearing bikinis strutting in too short jean shorts that are unbuttoned and unzipped, with an equally inviting phrase plastered across each cheek, in case you missed the message they were trying to send. Fortunately, not all Jersey Shore beaches are so "klassy". Our beach of choice has always been Spring Lake, where the single guys are most likely to be doctors or investment bankers or living off a trust fund.
Not that we ever expect to find true love at the beach, it's just that the temperament suits us better.
This last weekend I caught the early train down so we hit the beach front in the height of activity, which meant parking was a nightmare. We drove all around, attempted to squeeze into spaces that were clearly not meant to be squoze into, and we dreamed about which houses we would soon own (emphasis on dream) so that we wouldn't have the battle the next time we came down. Every spot we saw was grabbed by someone else and it seemed that we would have to park way down to have a chance. And then the perfect spot opened. In fact it seemed to have been just waiting for us.
We grab our bags and head down the short block to the beach entrance. Across the street, walking in the same direction, is a guy and what appears to be his girlfriend. Typical college guy build, attractive, but nothing incredibly remarkable. He was wearing a white tshirt and white shorts, aviators. Very unnotable. But something seemed strangely familiar. It couldn't be though, that would be ridiculous. I didn't mention it and kept on in my current conversation. And then he moved his hand, again nothing remarkable, but it seemed to confirm my first suspicions. The chance that we would be walking on the same street, heading to the same beach front, at the same time, come on. It has to be someone else.
We cross the street, they crossed ahead of us as we got caught by traffic. I'd convinced myself it wasn't him, and so didn't pay much attention the rest of the way in. Until strangely there was some commotion where the beach tags are sold, that he was still standing there, he hadn't yet gone onto the beach. I was about 5 feet away, and then I saw his profile - it had to be him. I didn't want to be that person though, the one who shouts a name and it turns out not to be who you thought, so I was about to walk by. But it would bug me all day if I didn't at least try. So in a voice no louder than a speaking voice (which for me is quite soft) I said "Trent?" Slowly, he turns his head, "No way".
He comes over hugs me, introduces the girlfriend, she stands off to the side behind him as he starts just rambling about his work, his family. He looked good, I'm not going to lie, but then again he always was very vain. It had been nearly three years since I saw him. Three years since he told me that I was the girl he wanted to marry, but he wasn't looking to get married for 3 years. Three years since I found out that he was sleeping with his HS girlfriend when he told me he was going to visit family for the weekend. Three years since he told me that I ruined everything, that everything was perfect. Because, afterall, everyone should have their cake and eat it too.
I spent the day wondering why the cosmos thought it necessary to bring us together that day. I thought maybe there was something more to be learned. Maybe our paths were meant to cross for a time again. I even went so far to think that all the garbage could be swept away with some time spent together. I invited him and the girlfriend to come join some friends at my aunt's beach house. Stupid - but I needed to sort out the reason for this. He told me he couldn't because they were going to his grandmother's 80th birthday party ... I think grandma turned 80 3 years ago, too.
Even now, the reason eludes me. I'm still sad when I think about our relationship. It seemed perfect. For years we did everything together. He was my best friend. I suppose though, we both knew that one or the other would have to change to make things work, and neither wanted to require that of the other person.
It's kinda like New York City. I love New York and for this part of my life, it's perfect. But deep down I know I need a yard and a dog and a picket fence and a kitchen the size of a cottage to have the long term dreams in my life complete. And most important, I need a beach. All things that this perfect city cannot offer me. And so somewhere in the future we will part. But for now, I will stay and just visit the Jersey Shore.
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