I loved this weird blue door with the endless gray subway tracks.

In which the Staten Island Ferry and Miss A have a moment together

There, under the dark and moonless sky, with the wind whipping strands of hair into my face and the motor churning steadily beneath my feet, I began to cry.

I remembered when I was eight or nine or ten, that summer that I had my first ever taste of New York. I rode the Staten Island ferry and stood in that very same spot. It was daytime then, and I was so excited to see the Statue of Liberty and to watch tiny Manhattan turn into towering Manhattan. It was the first time I'd ever been on a ferry boat too. I remember loving that boat and that ride and that vacation, but feeling very much that something was missing.

I had a wonderful day today, traveled through four of the five boroughs with fluffy skirts, tassel belts, a giant suitcase, and a video camera. In Greenpoint, Brooklyn I visited the Chief Squirrel's apartment and met her crazy jumping bean of a dog. In Flushing, Queens, I saw (and recorded for posterity) some really amazing belly dancers, including most of the Squirrel Girls. In Staten Island I visited Banghra Squirrel's house (which is large and sprawling), ate what is purported to be the best pizza in New York, then accompanied the Squirrel Girls to a gig at a weird hippie bookstore. Then all except Banghra climbed onto the ferry for a ride into Manhattan, every one of us exhausted from a long, pleasant day.

The crying started when I saw the Statue. I thought suddenly about that family vacation and how something was missing. I realized that it was my dad. My dad wasn't there with us, climbing up the spiral stairs through that green copper oven in the intense July heat. He wasn't there on the observation deck of the World Trade Center to point out the cool stuff you could see. He wasn't there to ask if I wanted to go to Yankee Stadium too (my sister got to go with my cousins, but I was left behind). He wasn't there to pull me out of the salty undertow when we went swimming on the Jersey Shore. He wasn't there when I had my first taxicab ride or to hold my hand to keep me from getting lost in the crowds in Midtown.

Here's the hardest part: that vacation is the best family vacation I can remember...because I cannot remember a single vacation with my dad.

I closed my eyes to try and squeeze away the tears that wouldn't stop silently streaming down my face. And I felt the wind and listened to the ferry churning beneath me. My mind flickered over to New Orleans, where I used to ride the ferry across the Mississippi River with JH. And how I taught myself to knit on that ferry. And how much I loved riding that ferry into the French Quarter to look for a job and then later to go to a job and then, after I moved to the East bank, just for fun. I missed New Orleans. I missed JH and how he loved that ferry too, and for the same reasons that I did. And then I started crying again for the loss of his friendship, and a little because I was angry at myself for missing him.

When I opened my eyes Manhattan was monolithic, looming ahead. It pressed closer and closer, like New York City was about to swallow me up, ferry and all. The tears did not stop streaming because it made me think about how I used to feel about New York before I got here. I used to think of New York as a doorway to a life of excitement and fulfillment. I used to think that New York would answer all my prayers and let me achieve all my dreams. I used to think New York was where I would really come into my own as a person.

I cried harder. Because all of those things are sort of true...but I never realized that those things could be true and that I could still feel so small and alone.

The Adventure of Penny and Lu

I had a request from Aunt J to write a blog post from the point of view of my cats. Somehow though I just don't have the voice to do it... I started a couple of different scenarios but the inevitable humor in it really minimized how worried I am about them. Poor little traumatized critters. First threatened with abandonment and then subjected to low-pressure air travel! I know, I know, they'll be fine. But I do have a nearly unnatural protective instinct for animals in general, and particularly for these two since I signed up a year and a half ago to be their lifelong caregiver.

Still, I decided to at least give it a go. After about five minutes of staring, I typed out a goofy little dialogue (deleted), but it kind of made me sick to my stomach.

-----

JH just called. He's done, they're in the hands of Delta Cargo now. The flight status is on time, and they'll be in the air in an hour. Apparently the vet gave them an anti-anxiety shot to help ease the stress without slowing their breathing, and that makes me feel a lot better (although I still feel a little sick).

To give us all something to feel a little better about, here's the (ahem) "inspiring" story of Pumpkin, who was trapped on a United airplane for three weeks.

Or better yet, go read about how to rule the world. Makes me miss my crazy pre-JH days...back when I was cool.

Three Phone Conversations.

Two weeks ago:

"Thanks for calling American Airlines, this is [Midwestern-Sounding Phone-Operator Guy]. How can I help you?"

"Hi, I'd like to book a flight for two cats."

"Okay, where are they flying to and from?"

"From Louis Armstrong in New Orleans to LaGuardia."

"When would you like to fly them?"

"On March 31, please."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, we can only book flights for live animals 72 hours in advance or less. If you call back at that time we'll be happy to make the arrangements for you."

"Oh, okay. And actually I have another question for you."

"Sure, no problem."

"I read on your website that I'm not allowed to sedate them? And I was just wondering if I can have the vet sedate them and provide documentation that he felt it was necessary."

"Well you could, but I really wouldn't recommend it. The cargo hold is pressurized differently, and if your cats are sedated there's a chance they could die, should the pressure change too drastically."

"Are you serious? My choices are to completely freak them out or to risk their lives?"

"They'll be okay. We ship cats all the time."

"Oh. Uh...okay. And can you give me an approximate cost?"

"Sure, how much do they weigh?"

"7 pounds and 10 pounds."

"Okay... That will be approximately $395 for the two of them."

"Ouch. Wow. Well thank you very much. I really appreciate your help."

------

9:35 Today:

"American Airlines, this is [Southern Lady], how can I help you?"

"Hi, I'd like to book a flight for two cats."

"Yes, ma'am, to and from what airport?"

"From Louis Armstrong in New Orleans to LaGuardia."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, you'll need to speak to someone at the ticket counter in New Orleans on the day of the flight."

"...What?"

"American Airlines does not operate a shipping facility in New Orleans, so you'll have to speak to someone at the ticket counter there."

"But two weeks ago someone at this number told me that I could call three days ahead of time to make the shipping arrangments."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I'm not sure who told you that. You'll have to go to the ticket counter in New Orleans."

"But I'm in New York. Surely I can make the arrangements over the phone with them?"

"No ma'am. You or someone else will need to go in person to the ticket counter in New Orleans."

"Do you have the number for that office?"

"No, ma'am, we don't have access to external telephone numbers."

"But it's American Airlines. It's your company."

"Yes, ma'am, but the office is operated through Louis Armstrong Internat--"

"Okay, okay, I get it... Just to make sure though, we're talking about the regular ticket counter for domestic passenger flights?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Sigh. "Okay. Thank you very much for your help."

------

10:20 Today:

"Thank you for calling Delta Cargo, this is [Competent-Sounding Dude], how may I help you?"

"Hi, I'd like to book a flight for two cats from New Orleans to La Guardia."

"Okay, no problem. Are you familiar with the requirements and restrictions?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you have a day or a flight in mind?"

"Yes, I want to book them on flight 1772 on Monday, March 31."

"Great. And how much do they weigh?"

"7 pounds and 10 pounds."

"Small carriers?"

"Yep."

"Okay... You're all set. That will come to $233."

"...for both of them?"

"Yes, for both of them."

"And when [JH] drops them off, where will he take them?"

"That will be to the Delta Cargo Office at Louis Armstrong. Would you like me to give you their number?"

"You bet I would."

"Great. Let me get your info and book the flight, then we'll get you all set up for Monday and I'll look up that number for you."

"So we can book it right now over the phone?"

"Absolutely."

"And do I pay now over the phone?"

"No, you'll pay when you pick them up, is that okay?"

"Is it ever!"

Late Night Thinkin' on the Q Train

Why do I like the subway so much? Nobody else seems to like the subway. Is it weird to like the subway?

Even at midnight I love being on the train. The gentle rocking motion, the ka-chunk! of the bumps, the screechy screechy of the wheels. I love watching the dingy tunnel walls go by, and especially passing other trains--I love how passing other trains looks like you're watching an 8mm time lapse film. I love riding the B train in certain spots when there's an F or V on the adjacent track, and suddenly the B dips down underneath....it looks like the F/V is climbing a mountain. I love how, after the last Manhattan stop, the black bricks and pillars suddenly give way to what used to be tenements on the Lower East Side. In hardly any time at all the buildings sink and pivot in view, and I can see red Chinese characters stacked on yellow squares...I imagine they say something like "No Vacancy." Lit up floors of cubicles and computers wink and blink in the night, then woosh! They're behind us and then we are soaring over the East River....soaring! It's a little cathartic for me.

Maybe it's the river thing... When I used to ride the ferry in New Orleans I fell in love with the Mississippi chugging away underneath my feet, splashing flecks of slippery silt (mud from Minneapolis or St. Louis? Memphis mud?) onto my waitress shoes.

It's the platform that bothers me. I don't like standing around with all those creeps and feeling like I can't escape without jumping and risking a third rail zap. They hover, those creeps. Tonight at the Union Square station there were some gutterpunk kids, complete with dingy dog and two flea-ridden pet store rats (so gross). They were pretty wrapped up in conversation with some thug wannabes, who were totally perplexed by the grimy gutterpunk style. Otherwise I would have been a little nervous, since one of the gaunt, slimy-dreadlocked guys kept eyeing my bag. As annoying as the gutterpunks are, it's not so much the homeless that get me, it's people who are drunk or mentally ill, or some combination of the two. They hover unpridictably. In my head I often play out a scenario in which a drunk accidentally bumps into me a little too hard and I fall onto the tracks. It's not the train that worries me; it's the idea of touching the grimy innards of the City mixed with trash and bugs and rodents.

This might sound weird, since I think it's gross to have pet rats, but I love watching the rats go. I keep imagining their lives like Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. Like they have this whole society underneath New York that is holding the fabric of the world together or something... Goodness knows, it's very apparent to me that they're smart enough. I always catch them making and carrying out plans and using tools and helping each other with little projects. It's very fascinating.

And where was I coming from so late on a school night? Well, if you must know, I had just slipped away from the Producer's apartment. We went to see No Country for Old Men, which was...wow, weird. It's practically a crime that I haven't seen this movie yet, being such a big fan of the Coen Brothers, and for that same reason I feel a little put off that I just don't get it. Not yet, anyway. I'm sure the third or fourth time I see it it will all make sense.

The Producer didn't have any new profound insights for me tonight. Instead he was just his pleasant and sweet self...maybe a little too salacious, but it sure is flattering. He's a doll really, but--and this is kind of typical of guys (even when I was practically married) and it bothers me to no end--he seems to be so caught up with flirting and being suggestive that I'm having trouble accessing who he is. And since my attraction to men is far more cerebral than it is physical, well...I'm not sure if it's gelling. But it sure is flattering.

Now if he stepped on my shoe and pulled my hair...

One New York first that I could do without....oh wait, this morning makes it two.

Last night I went out with my coworkers! It was fun! I got drunk! Really really drunk! And so, for the first time, Miss Adventurous rode the subway home feeling like she just might vomit.

It all started out alright...I hopped on the E train with the Data Guy and AIG (who is still A but, I have discovered, not really at all the kind of G for me). I was feeling all skippy and cute because I'd been on all evening and showing my coworkers how dope I am because I lived in the 'hood in New Orleans (read: I started talking like a Yat and acting like I knew everything). I was so on I was actually annoying myself a little bit, but everyone else seemed to enjoy my company and they kept talking about how fun I am, so whatever.

Anyway, I danced off the E at 4th street and suddenly, as I was decending the stairs toward the orange line, my fourth, on-the-house, glass of wine hit me in the face and the world began to turn a little. It was about this time that I remembered that the B stops running at 9:00 and I would have to take the D to Atlantic, and make a really obnoxious transfer to the Q, and do it all without losing the baked potato I had eaten earlier.

I thought about getting out and walking up to Union Square--after all, it was only 9:30 and being on terra firma couldn't hurt, in my nauseous condition. Just as I had decided to stumble back up the stairs though, the D train came and I forgot what I had been thinking a moment ago. I found a seat right away, and sat down. Eughhhhhhh... I got dizzy, so I stood up. I tried listening to my iPod, but it caused my vision to tunnel a little bit and I could feel the booze jostling in my tummy with every rock of the train. So I put the iPod away and just stood there, drunkenly staring into the black window and trying to look not drunk. I made it home, but I barely remember the clumsy trip from D to Q. And I'm super lucky I didn't get mugged en route to my apartment.

Once home, I promptly ditched several things: my coat, my bag, my hat, my retro-cool fingerless gloves, and then the entire quantity of wine I had drunk. Awful!

This morning completed the whole experience when I woke up with a particularly bad hangover. Somehow I managed to be out the door at 8:00, but I definitely learned a lesson about school nights.

I saw this guy on the subway today. No, really! I did!

It was SUCH a nice day today!

I'm in a fantastic mood, and I think it has to do with running in the sunshine. After that I cleaned up a little at home and then came out to Manhattan and stole PDF's dog for a walk in Central Park. It was great fun! It made me really glad that I made it here. I'm glad I made all those crazy decisions! I'm glad I uprooted myself out of the complacent trap of domesticity! I'm glad I'm living in pursuit of my dreams!

Now hopefully I'll make rent!

Some things I have seen on the subway:

The clipping of toenails
Grown-ups sitting on each others' laps
Dog in a fur coat (not his own fur)
Metrocard origami
The licking of fingers
Kid on a leash
Pile of pistachio shells
Little old lady playing video games
Spitting contest (how far)
Boombox on a shoulder
People making out on the platform (is there any less romantic place in the world?)

My least favorite phenomenon: Subway surfers, or those people who think it's okay to stand in the middle of the car and refuse to hold the bars. Then they act all surprised when the train starts moving and they can't stand up straight and they stick their arms out like they're surfing on the train. What drives me crazy about these people is that I have now seen four of them topple over onto other passengers. Seriously, they need to just hold onto the seen bar...if only out of consideration for others!