– We’re sitting in Saturday night’s performance of Hairspray, during the “You’re Timeless to Me” number. When the actors sing the line, “Because when I need a lift, time brings a gift: another day with you,” Clyde snuggles against me and takes my hand. I almost burst into tears. (Hey, give me a break. I’m old, and it’s our thirteenth anniversary.)
– When in Manhattan for just a day or two, a Gray Line Tour on a double-decker bus offers a lot of sight-seeing bang for your buck. Our cloudy-day trip around the Downtown Loop was cool and relaxing until an unexpected storm blew in off the river. Still, in New York, even in the middle of a rainstorm, there are sights to see: in this case, red and white road construction sawhorses, brought to life by the high winds, galloping past our bus.
– Post-Hairspray pizza at Angelo’s (next door to the Ed Sullivan Theatre). Thin, crispy crusts … subtle sauce … just the right amount of fresh mozz … and thin medallions of pepperoni, with the edges just slightly charred. Best. Pizza. Ever.
– Breakfast at Norma’s. Burgers at the Joint.
– Friends introduce us to D. and W., a gay couple who have been together for thirty-plus years. These gentlemen greet us as though we’ve been their friends for life and treat us to brunch at the Viceroy. They’re charming … and they’re a real inspiration to us, as they’ve been together almost three times as long as Clyde and I have been.
– Walking the Sunday street fair on 7th Avenue, Clyde buys a cheesy corn-patty concoction (“It would have been really good,” he said later, “if I had only eaten half of it.”). I buy a ten-minute massage from an aggressive Chinese masseur. He spends the next sixth of an hour pummeling my back, hips, and legs; I have almost as much fun as I did on the two-hour bus tour the previous day.
– We take in the very last performance of Shockheaded Peter, a bizarre little performance that brings to life a series of stories meant to serve as moral warnings for children. I love every minute of it; Clyde hates every minute of it. It amazes me that two people who are so different can be bound so closely together — but, thank goodness, we are.
– When I’m trying to get our group into the World Club in the Newark Liberty Airport, the woman behind the counter tells me she can admit two of the people with me (Clyde being one of them), but not all four (meaning one of our friends would have to be left outside). That’s cool — you can’t blame her for sticking to the rules.
Then, oddly, she asks, “You watch video?” When I say I do, this “by the book” Northwest employee whips out a stack of pirated Chinese DVDs of hits now in theatres. “We’re selling these,” she says. “Good prices.”
How would Northwest Airlines react, I wonder, if they knew one of their employees — while enforcing the airline’s World Club entry policies to the letter — was hawking illegal wares to customers?
Add comment