Well, hello people! I know it’s been eons since last I posted. Sorry about that.
Well, let’s start at the beginning shall we? I’m fresh off a 2 week vacation that involved a rather lot of traveling, at least in the very begining.
Drove the 4 hours from Questa to Denver only to miss my flight. So, I had a martini at the airport and cooled my heels until they found me a seat of the last flight from Denver to Baltimore, which ended up working out rather well, as the flight wasn’t full, and I didn’t have to tranvers the country with a stranger’s elbow in my ribs.
I got home late that night, then the next day, did a little cleaning, then headed to Iamps and started the long, long process of pollishing the bar with the sleeves of my coat.
And then, there was New York. Now, as a faitful Daughter of Baltimore, I have a natural distrust of all things NYC. I can’t help it, New York is the town that brought us the Yankees…how can a place that gave us that Empire of Evil be good? Well, here I stand, or, sit, as it where, to say that, dear God, I have seen nothing so amazing, and breath taking as the sight of New York City looming in the distance as the Amtrak sped North that brisk Saturday morning. I’m not going to lie, there was a lump in my throat.
I don’t know if it was the city it’s self, or the fact that I was headed there for the wedding of my dearest Amanda, that created all these feeling, but I was awe struck. A little of both, I should think. But there I was, headed to Gotham, all by myself, to take taxi cabs and trains and see people and hear sounds and smell smells and just stretch my legs. I had many (mis)adventures involving taxi drivers who didn’t speak English and me not knowing where I was actually going, but, I made it.
First adventure was getting from Amtrak to LIRR. I had NO idea which direction I was supposed to be taking, so, I picked the first cute, smiling guy who was standing looking at the notice boards and asked his help. He explained everything to me, and we had a nice little chat. No Idea what his name was, but, hey, nice, good looking people don’t need names, right?
I made it the the FLushing LIRR stop only to find myself feeling like Kurt Russel in “Big Trouble in Little China”. Also, not knowing how to get to my hotel required an only ‘slightly’ frantic phone call to Mom asking her to hop on the internet and tell me where the heck I was supposed to be going. Thank GOD for cell phones.
I checked in, unpacked, ran to the surprisingly close Target, picked up somethings that I knew I just HAD to have, and a bag of cashews, which would be the only food I ate all day until dinner at the reception. Wedding was lovely, and I was that awkward girl who started clapping at the end when others weren’t, but, hey, I started the whooping and hollering. Yeah, no matter the local, I’m that girl.
Due to my total lack of knowing what was going on, I arrived at the reception sight about 2 hours early. Luckily for me, it was the wonderful restaurant, Il Bocca, and the owner told me to hop to the bar and calm down, as I was pretty flustered from being rather sure that my taxi driver could have kidnapped me and NO ONE would have known.
But then, I met Frankie. **sigh** 35 or so, dark hair and eyes, could have been an extra from “The Godfather” or some such movie. He dripped charm, but still managed to blush when the owner of the restaurant told me that they called him ‘Frankie Millions’. A man so exquitisitly Brooklyn that he said “Fah’getta’bout’it” and wasn’t being ironic. He ACTUALLY talks like that. And, once again, blushed when his use of this honest phrase made me laugh and tell himthat hey may have just made my vacation.
Oh, dear readers, I was glorious. All decked out n my AMAZING Mad Men-esque dress, pearls and pain stakingly manufactured Bufont, I swilled the first of many wonderful dirty martini’s I would drink that night and just sparkled under the attentions of Frankie. He promised to take me to his Miami so we could cruise around the Gulf of Mexico on his brother’s yatch. I was the only other person at the bar, but I might as well have been the only other person in the world. It was lovely. And even now, nearly a month later, my heart does a little pitter patter thinking about the whole thing. But, alas, the recption started and he went home and I went to the roof, and I never saw him again. there was a vagu agreement to meet two hours later, but, by the time i can back down stairs, it was MUCH past 2 hours, and, though the bar was packed, the delightful Frankie was not there. But, I assure you, Frankie will NEVER fade from my mind as the best love I’ve never had. Of course, there are more details of that conversation that would illuminate why I feel that way, but, hey, my mom reads this blog. 🙂
And on to the reception. There’s something wonderful about true friends. You don’t have to have been attached at the hip to be close. I haven’t seen Amanda for ages, but, seeing her in her wedding dress, I was as proud and happy and full of love for her as if I had spent every day of our last few years in her company. She was radiant! I made new friends and was flung around the dance floor all night by one of the best dancer’s I’ve ever met. What more could I ask for?
I made it back to my hotel, and I assume I slept, because I woke up, packed up, checked out and caught a train only to miss my bus. However, that afforded me quite some time of being able to stare at Madison Square Garden and finally truly understant the poem by Walt Witman:
Keep your splendid, silent sun;
Keep your woods, O Nature, and the quiet places by the woods;
Keep your fields of clover and timothy, and your corn-fields and orchards;
Keep the blossoming buckwheat fields, where the Ninth-month bees hum;
Give me faces and streets! give me these phantoms incessant and endless along the trottoirs
Give me interminable eyes! give me women! give me comrades and lovers by the thousand!
Let me see new ones every day! let me hold new ones by the hand every day!
Give me such shows! give me the streets of Manhattan!
Give me Broadway, with the soldiers marching—give me the sound of the trumpets and drums!
(The soldiers in companies or regiments—some, starting away, flush’d and reckless;
Some, their time up, returning, with thinn’d ranks—young, yet very old, worn, marching, noticing nothing;)
—Give me the shores and the wharves heavy-fringed with the black ships!
O such for me! O an intense life! O full to repletion, and varied!
The life of the theatre, bar-room, huge hotel, for me!
The saloon of the steamer! the crowded excursion for me! the torch-light procession!
The dense brigade, bound for the war, with high piled military wagons following;
People, endless, streaming, with strong voices, passions, pageants;
Manhattan streets, with their powerful throbs, with the beating drums, as now;
The endless and noisy chorus, the rustle and clank of muskets, (even the sight of the wounded;)
Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus—with varied chorus, and light of the sparkling eyes;
Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me.
I wanted to jump onto the roof of a bus and scream out loud “DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE? YOOU LIVE IN A MUSE!! A MUSE OF BRILLIANCE!”
Home was good. I saw old faces, spent obscene amounts of time with my wonderful nieces and nephews and got pretty much an entire new waredrobe from my sister. Litterally. A whole dresser full of clothes that actually fit me. It’s great! I have more jeans and pants than I ever have had at one time, and I didn’t buy a single pair. Thanks, Kate!
I cuddled my mom, talked with my dad, hung with the Group, flirted, laughed told and listened to stories and generally had an awesome time.
Returning was hard-near torturous, but, I made it, and here I am, back to Questa and the faces and places that are slowly becoming ‘home’.
I’m getting to know people, and be known by people. My face is becoming one that is recognised and not just wondered at. It’s nice.
As I beging to round out what may or may not be my last 6 months here, I’m once again faced withthe task of choosing where my life can go. The world is most certainly my oyster, and I have no idea what to do with it.
I plan to just be very quiet, and hope that the breeze that blows off the snow capped peaks speaks with more than just frost. We shall see.
And that’s all I got…