Archive for the ‘Fifth avenue’ Tag

Distracted From My Mission   4 comments

I was on a mission, an advance party charged with finding a restaurant. I had several criteria. Since we would be attending a 7 PM music event on the West Side of Manhattan immediately afterwards, it had to be in the vicinity of West 72nd Street, and since it was early September, which is technically late summer, we preferred it have outdoor cafe seating.

Normally I’d let my  fingers do the walking and make reservations on Open Table, but since my train got in at 4-ish, and we planned to eat at 5:30, which is early by New York standards, I knew I’d have no trouble finding a place. I decided to walk over from Grand Central and take a look in person

Well, it didn’t take long for me to become totally distracted I had progressed but one block  when all it took was one well-displayed sign in a store window.

DSCN2029I knew what a variance was, having sought the help of my friendly town building department in pinpointing the location of my septic system years ago. I was told a variance had been issued for it. That was all they know

“what’s that mean?” I asked.

“It’s an exception to the rule.”

Curious to see what was going on after hours, I turned the corner and proceeded to the next sign.

DSCN2028Ooooooh, gross

DSCN2032Of course I had to make my way around the entire building

DSCN2030Is the whole thing rat-infested?

I finally tore myself away and proceeded onward when total panic struck. My heart rate actually increased. Had I crossed the border into a parallel world? Into another dimension? I stepped back. Here I was on the corner of 50th Street and Fifth Avenue, but where was St Patrick’s Cathedral? Had aliens absconded with it? I mean where could a cathedral that took up a square block disappear to?  I took a few deep breaths to calm myself, and stepped back to logically assess the situation. There had to be a logical explanation. And there it was.

DSCN2035I was on the corner of 50th Street

DSCN2036but not Fifth Avenue

So distracted had I been by the rat poison sign, that in my desire to explore, I’d turned north a block early onto Madison Avenue without even realizing.

But time was a-wasting, and I was on a mission. I gradually wound my way north and west when ……..what was this? It was a typical Halal food cart but I’d never seen so many people lined up at a pushcart. DSCN2037

I decided to research the matter scientifically and do some comparisons.

DSCN2042right next door

DSCN2044across the street

DSCN2043on the next block

Even an ice cream truck just as people were getting out of work on a hot evening proved to be no competition.

DSCN2045But maybe that’s because it wasn’t Mr Softee.

(If you’re not a New Yorker, you don’t know that after years of luring successive generations of children out of their homes for soft serve ice cream cones with its annoying music, Mr Softee raised such ire that a newer prissier New York City issued noise restrictions targeting the trucks during the reign of King Giuliani)

But oh my goodness, time was a-wasting.

Well I managed to find a few restaurants then proceeded on to meet my friends on our agreed-upon corner. They suggested a restaurant they’d passed on the way over from the Museum of Natural History, where they’d spent the afternoon. And what are the odds? Of all the restaurants on the West Side, it was the one at the top of my list!

End of story.

Well, not quite. A few weeks later I found an article about the opening of Urban Space Vanderbilt, a new upscale midtown food court…..

UrbanSpace-Vanderbilt-630x420

index

right down the street from the rat building.

On My Way to Buy Underwear   2 comments

On my way to buy underwear is the answer.

Where were you on November 22, 1963 when you heard John F Kennedy had been shot?  is the question.

I was obeying my mother’s command. Other mothers admonished their children to always wear clean underwear lest they be hit by a car and taken to the hospital and be found to have on dirty undies. For my mother, it was preparation for any trip I took. “Go buy new underwear.”

Th trip I was about to undertake was not an exciting one. Part of the senior year experience at my Catholic Girl’s high school was a three-day retreat at a monastery in New Jersey during the short school week preceding Thanksgiving. We had been dismissed after lunch the preceding Friday because ????????????I have no idea why since we wouldn’t be departing  until Sunday. Maybe it was so we could all go buy new underwear!

At any rate, there I was walking west on East 75th street toward 5th avenue to take a downtown bus to EJ Korvette’s on 47th  and Fifth. It was a cold blustery day, much like today, and as I rushed head-on into the wind blowing east from Central Park, a doorman stepped out of the polished wood shelter of an apartment house lobby and called out

“The president was just shot.”

I don’t recall what I said. Probably “oh no.” The next half hour or so is a blank. I probably headed on in disbelief and waited for the bus.

My next recollection is visual – looking out the window as the bus headed south and noticing the clusters of people planted outside stores windows on Fifth Avenue, watching news accounts on televisions that had been placed in the windows.

The next memory  is aural –  the eerie sound of all the church bells on Fifth Avenue – St Patrick’s  Cathedral, Thomas Episcopal Church, and  others – all chiming  in discordant  symphony. No words were needed. Everyone knew what they meant. Our young president was  gone.

Footnote:

I had not intended to write about this but a serendipitous occurrence urged me on. A classmate of mine with whom I’ve reconnected via Facebook posted a question for me on her timeline. She seemed to recall that we’d been dismissed early but didn’t know why. In replying to her, my mind took another weird hop, skip and jump and I realized the spot where the doorman stepped out to tell me of Kennedy’s shooting was half a block away from where three years earlier, JFK, then a presidential candidate, had waved to me, a 13-year-old schoolgirl standing on the median of Park Avenue; he, on his way to his first  debate with Nixon, and I, waiting for all the motorcycles and limousines to pass so I could catch up with my friends on the other side of the street. If you missed that post, here it is.

And now, fifty years later I’m flying  to San Diego in the morning to spend Thanksgiving with an old friend. And I’m taking  a very bold step. I’m packing old underwear!

See you when I get back!