Step into the Snow Freezer
New York City
Nicky is a covers thief. She steals them in the middle of the night. I used to think it got chilly some nights when I woke up with a only 10% of the covers, until I woke up on Tuesday morning in NYC. Holy fuck, it was cold. The skies were crystal blue clear but a chill blanketed the city. It felt like January yet it was March. On my last day in LA when I saw that temps were around 74 degrees, I figured that the temps in NYC would be half that number. And it was when I landed but after the snow storm, the temps dropped even lower. It was a cold muthafuckin' day and I walked on the sunny side of the street as much as possible.
I rode the subway for the first time in a while and I forgot about how I used to draw inspiration from what I saw around me as I went to work everyday or if I happened to be just riding for the sake of riding when I was unemployed and did nothing so I had all the free time to ride the subways when most people worked and I sat in the corner and I watched New Yorkers, the real every day New Yorkers, interact and shuffle around in their lives. I was invisible and glimpse at humanity in transit. Nothing was more sad and enlightening in the same breath. The sad? The faces of the commuters who wished they were still sleeping instead of being corporate slaves.
And because of the vastness of the mass transit system, you never knew what to expect to see at any given time. A mariachi band. A fist fight. A pervert stroking his cock in the middle of a the car. A Chinese guy selling batteries. A fat kid eating McDonalds. And some punk ass kid who blasted his music so loud that you could hear it above ground.
The more time that I spend in LA, the more that I appreciate subways. And I missed those days when I was so broke that I rode the subways for entertainment value and how I used to diligently take notes of the things I saw on the subways so I could write a monthly short story for Truckin' inspired by the things I saw on a daily basis.
I spent some time with my sick mother. She had a bum foot and hobbled around. She had a couple of treats on the coffee table such as an assortment of Pepperidge Farm cookies such as the rich velvety butter cookies known as Chessmen... and the every delicious and highly favorited and even more addictive Mint Milanos. Oh, and I forgot about the Dr. Brown's Black Cherry soda and generic Vicodin. The soda was nice and cold and had been in the fridge for a couple of weeks. And the Vicodin was for mine to have. I joked that I should sell her extra pharmies in the parking lot of the Phish show in Hampton and split the profits. I only took one and left them alone. I took the cookies and ate up all the Chessmen.
She has been stuck on the couch elevating her broken foot and all she does is watch TV because there's nothing else to do. She hasn't been able to work, so she finally started watching the Food Network.
I went to the Greek diner two mornings in a row. They were open during the snow (yet almost empty) and much more crowded on Tuesday morning. The old Jewish guys in the back book were talking about A-Roid and Obama and the banks.
I spent a full day crunching numbers and doing my taxes. That's always the worst day of the year and then having to write a check to the thugs otherwise they do bad things. Once the taxes were done, all I had to do was wrangle up the money. A bit harder than anticipated. That was the biggest task that I had left before I could begin the early stages of Phish reunion tour.
The first stage... tickets for Nicky and myself. I had four out of the six tickets required for the weekend. Two for Saturday were supposedly on their way. I waited and waited and waited and after four days of sweating my as off... they finally arrived. The set was complete and it was onto the next step. Getting there.
I started out with lists. Things to buy for tour... like a road atlas and a cell phone charger for the car. And other lists of things to pack and music to listen to. Nicky arrives sometime on Wednesday night which means I have less than 20 or so hours to get all my shit done before we depart for the rendezvous at the Mothership.