I spent 5 days in NYC couple of weeks back. I was working a convention and had this genius idea that it might be good to get out of Javits and enjoy some fresh, crisp, October air by walking back the 6 blocks to the hotel. Six Avenue blocks. Six l-o-n-g, hot, avenue blocks. Six Oh My Stars what kind of fresh, crisp, hell have I just conscripted myself to blocks.
By the time I staggered into the hotel lobby like a piece of flabby meat jewelery on my boss’ arm, I was almost in tears. Mark, my boss, bless his heart suggested we sit and have a glass of wine and a quick bite to eat before starting on the evening line up of 2 client hosted parties. After a half hour and a nice cool glass of wine, a big glass of water and some bruschetta, I felt almost as good as new. Almost.
Cab downtown. No problem. Listen to some nice, mellow music through a world class microphone. No problem. Hydrate with lots of water. No problem. Get a cab back uptown. No problem. Stop at the corner of 59th street. Problem.
The cabbie says “Get out! Is only one block!”. Mark says to the driver, “No. My friend can’t walk. Take us where we need to go!” We are summarily cursed out in Sanskrit or something like it, as the driver throws the car in reverse, steps on the gas, and runs into a bicyclist. This being Manhattan, everyone from the pedestrians, the cyclist himself, and people at a bus stop are all screaming “Can’t you drive you fuckin’ idiot!?”” Watch where you’re going!” “Wassthematterwithyou!?” until the cyclists wobbles off after a few more choice words and some good smacks to the roof of the cab.
Surprisingly, this doesn’t put our driver in any better mood and he reiterates “Is only one block!”. Our resolve is strong though, so he mumbles further under his breath and puts on his blinker. Now remember, we are in Manhattan. Corner of 59th and 8th. What did he do? What anyone would do ~ try to pull a U-TURN across 4 lanes of traffic at a stopped intersection. And guess what!? Shocker ~ we were t-boned by another cab. Well, this other cabbie who hit us was not nearly as calm or pleasant as the guy on the bike. More cussing and name calling (in Swahili now I think) until our driver turns to us and says “IS ONLY ONE BLOCK!”.
At this point, I decide I might be able to walk the one block after all. After Mark asks him for a receipt (I kid you not ~ our company is tight about these things!) we make it to the next event. By now, it is almost 9:00 pm, close to the end of the party. I grab a nice big glass of wine (because by now I’m ready for a drink), and start snacking on cold crab cakes, soggy asparagus wrapped around prosciutto, and mushroom caps stuffed with substance (unidentified). That bruschetta seems a long time ago.
So here’s the set up: I’m really tired from being on my feet all day. I can’t really stand because I had to enjoy that crisp, fresh, October air and walk until I was crippled. I’ve had a big glass of wine. I’m kinda rattled from the cab accident. I’ve been eating nothing but appetizer dregs. So when the last man standing at the party suggests we smoke some weed, I think it’s an excellent idea. Pot is supposed to be good for people like me with MS, and I smoked some like 7 years ago, so figure I’m due. Yes. This definitely seems like just the ticket.
Fast forward 15 minutes. It’s time to head back to the hotel, since there is no one left but the catering staff, me, one other guy and the pot man. I think I gracefully twirl into the room from the patio, then think I do a perfect pirouette, and then know I land on my ass. I’m laughing so hard I’m crying, and who should I look up to see lending me a hand, but my client.
This is when I love the business I’m in. My gentle client has a laugh with me, sends me home in a cab and then tells me the next day to pretend it never happened. Much as I’d like to, I kind of think it’s better that I do remember it. I must remember that the 6 block walk killed me for almost a week. Maybe I should smoke some pot….?
October 19, 2009
La Crescenta, CA