{"id":2517,"date":"2005-03-01T16:04:52","date_gmt":"2005-03-01T21:04:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=2517"},"modified":"2022-10-09T16:05:10","modified_gmt":"2022-10-09T20:05:10","slug":"new-york-snapshots","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=2517","title":{"rendered":"New York snapshots"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&#8212; Snow driving down the avenues, already accumulating, a wild night, a stormy night.  This stuff wasn&#8217;t dissolving when it hit the sidewalk.  The wind was high.  Beautiful.  In an annoying kind of way.  Everything looks different in the city during a big snowstorm.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; Last night, I met up with two dear friends &#8211; Kate and Guy &#8211; who were in from Chicago for an audition.  We convened at a random bar on 6th Avenue.  We drank vodka gimlets, laughed until we cried, and watched the snow stream by outside.  Haven&#8217;t seen either of them since Kate got married &#8230; and yet it was like no time at all had gone by.  No catch-up stuff needed, we just launch right into the jokes, and the real stuff.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; They had already had 2 vodka gimlets by the time I was able to arrive.  I decided to try to &#8220;catch up&#8221;, which is pretty much always an unwise policy.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; We sat on high stools, and we soaked up each other&#8217;s company.  It&#8217;s RARE that people will really understand the humor in the <a href=\"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=511\">sombrero chronicles<\/a> &#8230; really rare &#8230; but these two, who were <i>not there<\/i> when the sombrero moments occurred, get it <i>completely<\/i>, and make me tell the story pretty much every time I see them.  They will prompt me: &#8220;Do &#8216;Mexico &#8211; the flower of Europe.'&#8221;  &#8220;Mexico &#8230; the flower of Europe.&#8221;  That&#8217;s really all one needs to say.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; Gimlets.  Gimlets sucked down as the blizzard raged.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; We reminisced about our AWESOME day together, the three of us, a couple years ago &#8211; when we went to see <i>Private Lives<\/i> on Broadway with Alan Rickman and Lindsay Duncan (which, honestly, I have got to say &#8211; is some of the best stage acting I&#8217;ve ever seen in my life).  It was beyond exhilarating &#8211; the production was a revelation.  I had to go back and re-read the play, because it seemed to me I had never really HEARD the damn thing before.  GREAT production.  Alan Rickman is awesome on screen, but you have not lived until you&#8217;ve seen him live. Anyway, we reminisced about that day.  How amazing it was, and then how &#8211; as the three of us left the matinee to go get a cocktail, we took about 2 steps, and then the heel on one of my platform sandals snapped, or crushed, or SOMEthing &#8211; Whatever it was, my heel spontaneously destroyed itself and I WIPED OUT on the sidewalk.  Literally.  This was a massive fall, my arms flying about, my legs splayed crookedly &#8230; I had on a cute little skirt, and a cute little top &#8230; I was all giddy from the production, and then BOOM.  I went down in SUCH a big way.    My knees were bloody, and I completely scraped all of the skin off of my hands trying to break my fall.  This is what I remember.  Then we went to the Film Center Cafe (I walked barefoot, through the theatre district), and drank many martinis, and talked about the show, and laughed our asses off.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; About 2 gimlets into my evening last night, I regaled Kate with an embarrassingly passionate defense of the movie <i>Annie<\/i> (no, not the FIRST one, but the one done for TV &#8211; with Audra McDonnell and Victor Garber and Alan Cumming, etc.)  I LOVE it.  And Kate had never seen it, and I talked about it so passionately that at one point actual tears came to my eyes.  Guy pretty much laughed in my face, HOWEVER he backed me up.  &#8220;It is really good, Kate &#8211; you need to see it.&#8221;  At one point, I suddenly could hear the tone of my voice, and said, flatly, &#8220;Listen to me.  I am talking about this <i>so seriously<\/i>.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; When I showed up, they were pretty looped.  Guy did a little scat-singing thing right on my face within 5 minutes of my arrival, so that should give you some idea.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; Guy left, to go back to the hotel.  Kate and I stayed.  And then, in a flash, I realized that I had, indeed, &#8220;caught up&#8221;.  I had sucked down my gimlets, and all of a sudden &#8211; it felt like a switch being flipped &#8211; I realized I was LOOPED. I lost all my powers of articulation.  There were to be no more passionate <i>Annie<\/i> monologues.  All I could do was murmur stuff inarticulately to Kate, and then say, &#8220;Y&#8217;know what I&#8217;m sayin&#8217;??&#8221;  Uhm &#8230; no, Sheila.  No one knows what you&#8217;re saying.  I managed to say, &#8220;I am so trashed!  This is awful!&#8221;  Kate said, &#8220;I know!  We were too.  We had two gimlets, and suddenly it hit us &#8211; woaahhhhhh&#8230;.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; We then ordered burgers and quickly drank 5 glasses of water a piece.  We ate the burgers.  They were the most delicious things we had ever tasted in our lives.  We became completely normal and 100% sober following.  The gimlet crisis had been handled.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; We talked.  She&#8217;s one of my dearest friends.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; Meanwhile, by the time we left the bar, the snow had pretty much coated the sidewalks.  Nobody was out.  The cabs careened by, the snow kept coming down.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; We headed to Times Square, and met up with a couple other friends, in a cozy little French place, where we had olives, bread, and this pot de creme stuff that was <i>beyond <\/i>good.  It felt like human beings could NOT have made that pot de creme.  It came directly from the gods.<\/p>\n<p>&#8212; When we left the French bistro place, it was 11:30 at night, and the storm was raging.  The streets were a mess, slushy, slippery, empty, and drifts were already forming.  The snow drove across the city, it was beautiful.<\/p>\n<p>The whole night was beautiful.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&#8212; Snow driving down the avenues, already accumulating, a wild night, a stormy night. This stuff wasn&#8217;t dissolving when it hit the sidewalk. The wind was high. Beautiful. In an annoying kind of way. Everything looks different in the city &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=2517\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[3],"tags":[600,161,1367],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2517"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2517"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2517\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":178291,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2517\/revisions\/178291"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2517"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2517"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2517"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}