The Sheila Variations

Last night ...

... I had a moment where I absolutely despised this city. I despised it with every fiber of my being. I became Travis Bickle momentarily ... you know how he says he wants to just flush the whole place down the toilet and start again? I felt that way. I despised it so much that I found myself stalking up the street, in the hot muggy air, with the car horns blowing around me, TALKING TO MYSELF, speaking out loud, saying: "This city sucks. I hate it here." So basically what I'm saying is, I became a crazy person.

It was hot and sticky. Hell's Kitchen, where I was walking, lived up to its name. Everyone annoyed me. There was a cornucopia of disaster vehicles, sirens blaring, going this way, that way, stuck in traffic. Trash bags piled up on the sidewalks.

I was going to meet him at a martini bar - and I THOUGHT I knew where it was ... I was CONVINCED of it ... I had said to him, "It's on 46th and 9th." I get to 46th and 9th: no martini bar. Now, I just recently went to this martini bar ... so ... er ... WHERE THE HELL IS IT?? I was going to be late. And he doesn't have a cell phone (uhm - what??) which meant I couldn't call him. Which also meant that I had emailed him saying: "It's on 46th and 9th" ... when obviously ... it wasn't at all. I thought he and I would wander the streets, lonely and lost, missing each other ... dodging the disaster vehicles careening by.

By this point, I was DRENCHED in sweat. I sweated off my lovely sheen of face powder, and my mascara was now inking up in the corner of my eyes. My shirt stuck to my back. I was furious. Every time I felt a bead of sweat drip off my forehead, I got more and more irritated. hahaha I must have looked like a scowling red-faced Irish bitch stalking up 9th Avenue with my hi-top sneakers.

I started to look around me, at the filthy sidewalks, the crammed crowds, the lack of a breeze, the piled up trash and I thought: What. the. F***. Am. I. Doing.

Also: where the hell is the martini bar?

Finally, I took out the cell phone and called information for the number. I stood over on a corner, out of the way of the sticky jostling crowds.

Now, here's where I lost it:

The SECOND I stood still ... the SECOND I paused ... homeless people and crazy people began to approach me. One after the other. Three in a row. They came out of nowhere. Each had a request: Money? Cigarettes? Money for food?

I couldn't make my phone call in peace. I also - and this was what pushed me over the edge - I couldn't even STOP for one SECOND without having crazy people sniff me out, and leap on the opportunity. "Ooh! Look at her! We can pounce on her now!" That's why New Yorkers always walk so fast, and plunge along the sidewalks like robotic lunatics. Because if you stop - some crazy person will see his chance and come over and make some demand.

Living here as long as I have, I have to say: and sorry, this is blunt and mean: I never give homeless people money UNLESS they have an animal with them. haha I mean, I'm sure it's a scam like anything else - they have a dog, just so people like me will give them money. But whatever, I have my standards. If there's a little kitten sitting next to the stinky drunk homeless guy, then I'll drop a quarter in his cup. But other than that? Sorry. I HAVE HAD IT. Get your ass in AA, and stop bothering me.

Cold and cruel. Yup. That's what New York can do.

You don't see a lot of homeless people in the winter, because of the cold, but they come out in swarms in the summer. Summertime homeless people are, I have found, more aggressive, and more nuts. They let it all hang out. They feel so happy and free because they made it through the horrible winter, and now they can just be FREE to be INSANE up and down the avenues. They get very aggressive, and they will not take No for an answer.

All I wanted to do was call information. But the second I stopped moving ... I was approached. Homeless guy on crutches: "Spare some change?"

I was busy, so I shook my head - focusing on my phone call. He disappeared.

Homeless guy # 2 approached. "Can you spare some change?"

Now I started getting angry. I shook my head curtly, not worrying about his feelings ... because at that point the Operator came on, and I needed to talk with her. Our conversation began - I was telling her the name of the place I was looking for, if she could give me the address ...

And as she gave me the address, Homeless guy #3 approached ... This guy had a whiny voice: "Ma'am ... please ... can you help me?"

Because he spoke to me, I missed the Operator telling me the address - and I said to the guy, shortly, "No." Back to the phone call: "Sorry, can you repeat that?"

She gave me the address again, but homeless guy did not move ... and said again ... (making me miss the address again): "Pleaaase? Please help?"

I lost it. I groaned out loud, and stalked away from him - and as I walked off, homeless guy's whiny little voice turned aggressive and hostile in an instant, and he SHOUTED at me as I walked away. Called me an awful name I will not repeat.

Anyway. FINALLY, I was able to hear the Operator tell me the address - but damn, what a journey to get there. God forbid you STOP WALKING for one second. If you do ... crazy people will begin to merge on you ... sniffing your indecision ... looking for an opening ...

But. On the bright side.

I was only a couple blocks off, in terms of the address of the martini bar ... and when I finally arrived, I was only 5 minutes late. He was sitting at the bar, and I arrived ... drenched in sweat, no more translucent powder on the face, I looked awful. Harassed and awful. A sweaty red-faced mess. But the martini bar was cool, deliciously cool ... my martini was cold, and fabulous. The lights were low, the conversations low ... and within 5 minutes, I had shuffled off the hot loud chaos of 9th Avenue ... and relaxed, settled into a great evening of conversation, laughter, food.

It's a kind of amnesia. By the end of the night ... in the cool candlelit martini bar ... where we talked about neuroscience, and theatre, and consciousness ... we toasted Anne Bancroft ... and by the end, I was thinking: God, I love New York!!!

Ridiculous. From one extreme to the other.

Posted by sheila