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Saturday, the counselors here at camp visited NYC for an afternoon Mets game and an evening in the City. I drove on my own Friday night instead of Saturday morning, and met Andre, from CWRU, at 42nd & West Side Ave for a night out on the town. We strolled around Times Square a bit, then headed over to Greenwich Village for a walk, a burrito, and a drink. Chilled on the stoop of his house for a while, then to bed finally around 5. Good times; catching up on soon-to-be old times.
The next day things didn't work out so well for me. Dre and I drove around trying to find the Internet, finally doing so in a cafe. The email I received shattered my plans of dropping off my car for repair (see why) at a PepBoys where a friend's friend works. Said PepBoy owes my friend a favor, and my friend owes me one. I was going to have my car fixed on the cheap. Dre and I left the Internet where we found it, and followed each other to Shea Stadium. We drove around the stadium, dodging trucks and parking spots, until I finally hit one of the latter, dead on. It was too late to get some food together. We parted, Dre drove off, and I entered the stadium during the bottom of the first. I met the other counselors and we talked and yawned while the Mets met the Reds. They left for the bus after the eighth inning, and we promised to meet, Brendan and I each sporting a walkie talkie. I drove back into downtown, and could talk to Brendan around 57th street & 7th Ave, but lost the signal when I found my parking spot on 71st. Never heard or saw any of the counselors; ended up wandering about on my own, which would've been a great time except that I had hoped to find them all...
A single evening is certainly not long enough to see much of anything in such an enormous place. Much of the time I spent floundering about in Times Square area, still hoping to find my friends. There was some decent jazz outside at Lincoln Center, but that and the hot women didn't balance out all the ass clowns trying to show off their poor swing-dancing skills, so I didn't stick around for long. I walked around Tower Records, from one Listening Station to the next, checking out new releases. Either my appearance or my bag with leftover Pad Thai seemed to mark me as a sure-bet shoplifter, and I had the rental po-po 10 feet away at every turn, so I made sure to spend an extra long time exercising my right to look suspicious. By 8:30 I had Only Little Boy in New York in my head, so, thinking of Simon and Garfunkel, I made my way to Central Park, hoping a good mugging might turn my day around.
The only thing stolen from me was my thoughts of my friends. They were leaving to return to camp at 9:30 and I had stashed the walkie-talkie back in the car and given up on them. The park was friendly. I realized I'd been before, 5 years back, maybe. My ears led me toward a sort-of central gathering area. Couples reserved benches surrounding the large open area, and a few groups were congregated; one of Africans/Jamaicans on congas, another of middle-aged rollerskaters and rollerbladers dancing on their wheels to downtempo lounge music from a boombox. Another of old hippie-looking people tossing a frisbee. Some younger folk were perparing for a performance at the small stone amphitheater. A baby-boomer couple kicked a hollow, white plastic baseball across the ground's stonework, laughing and ooh-ing when the occasional herbal aroma drifted past. Finally, something a bit more innocent and spirited to watch, even if I wasn't allowed to participate.
The performance was Romeo and Juliet, and started at 9pm sharp. The twist was that the performers were the members of St. Mary's Catholic Girls' School English 201 Class, and they decided to dress in their Catholic Schoolgirl outfits for the play. At 9:30, (24 hours after I had left camp for the City,) Romeo left for the masked ball and I for my car to make it back to camp by 12:30 curfew.
