First, I am no longer allowed to take more than 5 days off work unless I have a well-thought out plan for amusing myself. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I am going f-ing MAD. This state of aimlessness? I'm not wired for it. Worse yet, I've been spending way way way too much time on Facebook and email and online. I swear it is turning my brain to mushy peas. And it's been a month since I read a book!
Let me tell you, things were going along all super fabulous until work got slow, I went on vacation, fell into a (temporary) state of $ brokeness and started this internet dating shizzit. It's the perfect storm of bad.
And you know what? I need to snap the fuck out of it. I have a book coming out this year! It's almost my birthday! I have dates with boys lined up that are written into my schedule (in pencil--but still!!). And I'm going to start taking drum lessons! This life of mine is charmed, I say.
But I seriously digress.
So despite all efforts, I'm out of sorts right now and not myself--and the cure for that is being around other people. Today I saw an old high school friend and her husband for a few hours and it was great. And after that, the plan was to meet Meg and company at Mooncake followed by a showing of Benjamin Button.
In order to get to Meg and dinner and the movie I needed to deal with the hellmouth, my new Buffy-inspired name for the stretch of 34th St. from the N train entrance to 8th Ave. When I was commuting in from Long Island so many years ago, I always walked along 32nd through Koreatown. It was harried, but so much better than taking 34th.
And yeah, of course I should know better than to take the exit that spills out next to two major tourist attractions, but I feel creeped out using the stairs near the Manhattan Mall. That's its own sub-hellmouth.
Today when I emerged, I swear it was even worse than usual. A family stopped dead atop the stairs. A crowd of teenage tourists elbowed past me with serious speed and violence. I jaywalked myself across the street to avoid it all, only to be met with the zombie-like throngs milling outside Macy's. Loaded down with bags and bags and bags but no real sense of purpose, they would shuffle and stop. Shuffle and stop. I felt like a hapless contestant on some terrible hidden-camera game show. It was so stressful I stopped dead on the street mid block(standing flush against a wall like a good pedestrian), fished my iPod out of my bag, and tuned in The White Stripes as loud as my little piddly mini would let me go. Now at least I had a soundtrack for the rest of the gauntlet. Following the beat I picked up my pace. Speed would save the day. I took the sidewalk like an obstacle course and made it swiftly to 7th Ave.--and after a small hiccup at the walk sign thanks to some awestruck tourists walking 6 abreast and wearing sweats emblazoned with "NYC" in glitter on their collective asses, I made it. Alive. No injuries. Dignity intact (which is more than I can say for the day as a whole).
I hate to be an angry New Yorker. I hate to disparage the tourists who are trying to enjoy their vacations and pumo their $$ into my city's economy. But for Christmas sake, it's also my home. And I just wanted to get some dinner and catch a movie. . . So yeah, I think I'll start walking over from 23rd St. or braving the creepy tunnel to 6th Avenue because baby just can't do it again anytime soon.



