Back to Reality...

My eleven day cruise to the Caribbean is over, but my body is still doing that gentle rocking thing to compensate for the rocking of the boat... it's fun, I feel a little drunk. 

I am back in NYC- Tribeca- back to work, subways, construction and my one bedroom...Back to 'Lost Vistas" where the ever increasing encroachment of buildings and filling of air space makes it difficult to know which way is which. It's becoming impossible to see the Hudson or East River, the Empire State building or any orienting landmarks unless you happen to be in a high-rise, or catch the rare glimpse along the two city drives. I predict that one day developers will build a ring of luxury condos on landfill around the Statue of Liberty...obstructing her view for all but the super wealthy. They'll call it "The Liberty Crestmark", a tribute to all the immigrants whose great, great- grand children have made it to the top of the heap. By then I should be in Florida, in a shack on the Gulf Coast.

Paulie and Lori are here, so my transition back to reality is softened. It is a pajama party atmosphere every night- pretzels, beers, mixed nuts and ten bottles of hot pink nail polish we can't decide on...well, Paulie's not into the nail polish, he's just happy to not be back in Florida, alone.

Every night we venture out into the wilds of Tribeca only to discover what we already know- Tribeca is Latin for 'boring' and we are the only wild things in it...waltzing around Reade Street it's obvious we're not average residents -  Wall Street types, city soccer moms, grey-haired 'artistes', the Blackberries, from Connecticut.

We are like tourists in our own neighborhood, longing for a familiar face, a 'Yo', some kind of sexy vibe, or anyone at all who will make eye contact...we're the last of a dying breed, Nyers from NY- Brooklyn- without which Tribeca's famed creameries, printing houses and waterfront industries would not have thrived.

Lori said the hostess at a local eatery seemed shocked that we said we were having dinner...was it our hoodies? Our lack of coach bags? After two minutes of forced atmosphere we ejected ourselves and grabbed a table at the Reade Street Pub across the street. Instant decompress, whew!

Comments

[Tinaku Kunita]

Janet, I love your writing style. I think Lori's lucky to have such a clever friend as you.

[jeff]

if you want excitement... go see the Drive By Truckers @ the 40 Watt Club in Athens Georgia...or, @ the House of Blues on Sunset in LA...like me...in 2 weeks...hee hee