Watchmen

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.