I was walking in Battery Park just for the hell of it and the wind was ferocious. I had thought it would be nice to take a walk on such a beautiful day. Instead, if anyone had been filming me they would have seen:
— me literally plowing into the wind, my body bent forward horizontally, my arms stretched out in front of me like Frankenstein
— me being blown backwards a couple of times
— me staggering to a nearby bench, clutching at it with my arms, to at least get a grip on it so I wouldn’t fly up into the atmosphere
— my hair literally OUT. OF. CONTROL. Speaking of Frankenstein, can we talk about his bride for a minute?
— me trying to get up again to go walking and being blown backwards three steps
— me making the foolhardy choice to take some of my writing out of my bag to give it a onceover as I sat on the bench
— the pages naturally whipped out of my hands and went e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. It wasn’t as bad as Michael Douglas at the end of Wonder Boys but it was close.
— Thanks to an elderly gentleman crouched on a nearby bench, a hot chick with pointy boots struggling by on the path and a small 10 year old boy zipping by on roller blades, all of my pages were retrieved
— We all were screaming as all of this was going on. I can see the dialogue cards interjected into the action. “Did we get all of it?” “Hey look – there’s another page!” “Hey, you – grab that paper!” All of us racing around in speeded-up fashion. Thank you, kind strangers.
The only thing missing was a twirly-mustachioed bow-tied hottie who would appear out of nowhere, unruffled by the wind, offer me his arm while making lovey-dovey eyes at me, before whisking me off out of the wind to our nuptial bliss.
It was nuts.
The wind’s blowing majorly here, too, and as it happens, the soccer teams across the street are (1) lit up by the sun behind me, and (2) putting on a lovely show for me as the wind makes their acetate outfits conform to every nook and cranny of their sinewy bodies. Uhm, I think I like the wind! I love your kind strangers, and am grateful every page was retrieved. Don’t you feel completely refreshed? It’s my favorite way to be chapped! xxx Stevie
I’m dying picturing this, but your pages! The anxiety! Thank God they were all recovered!
Sheila, only you would decide to casually peruse your writing in a gale force wind. Hahahaha.
Tracey – hahahaha I know, like – seriously, Sheila? You want to do that NOW??
The only thing missing was a twirly-mustachioed bow-tied hottie who would appear out of nowhere, unruffled by the wind, offer me his arm while making lovey-dovey eyes at me, before whisking me off out of the wind to our nuptial bliss.
He would turn out to be a blond guy you met briefly in 1989, thus proving your psychic right after all. ;-)
Never. I will never give that bitch credit no matter what blonde male I meet!
What, no wall falling on with only a well-placed open window saving you from certain death? I’m disappointed….
It’s moments like this that remind me how good and helpful New Yorkers can be. Guess that’s where my mind is today and what I needed to read. Thanks!
Mark – I know! I was disappointed too!
Jen – Yes, indeed! It became a frenzied group event – very heartwarming!!
I really love the scene that you recalled in Wonderboys, where Crabtree clings at the flying sheets of paper, like by grabbing 5 he can save the thousand that are about to float into the gutter. Haha. I’m in Chicago now, so I’m generally afraid to pull anything out of my bag. I don’t even read the paper anymore… :)