the lagniappe

New York, New York!  You've done it again, you quirky romantic bastard.  Just when I'm settling into a lazy upper east side Sunday you spring your spontaneous nature upon me luring me on a midtown jaunt and as we drop Karen by her office you give me that Ryan Atwood sideways glance suggesting 'Let's Shop!'  Seriously, you're like a girl when it comes to the shopping sometimes but you know I can't resist the post-holiday subdued vacancy of Rockefeller center.  The only memory of the holiday season recently past is the browned Christmas tree remainder "tumbleweed" that lazily rolls by in the tailwind of a taxi-cab as you grab my hand and spin me through the revolving door of Anthropologie. 

What seems like an hour later, and probably is, we fall laughing out of doors partially due to the sale treasures extracted from within and equally from the ridiculousness of the spring window mock-up as the adjacent j. crew, featuring two headless mannequins one in a simple white dress with the masculine looking dapper in a timeless black suit.  We turn to each other grazing noses and crack up, we're on the same page once again, 'Oh Manhattan, you know I'm not ready for a lifetime commitment.'  I blush and turn away, the cross town wind sweeping the tassels of my favorite fleece lined orange winter hat, if only he knew of my flirtation with Brooklyn, but no matter today my focus is on my borough.

I have a special errand to run, I tell him, I mischievously raise an eyebrow to a perfect point as I suggest the trip down to Chinatown.  We listen to This American Life downloads focused on MacGyver-like creations as a man on the subway sells lollipops to passengers for 25 cents but admits that if you give a $50 he doesn't have change and pretty women are always pretty when they have money, naturally.

As we ascend from the steamy subway depths onto the bustling crowds of Canal St. the story switches to that of an npr version of 'making the band' courtesy of their matchmaking skills using only the classified sections from two Chicago area news papers.  Meanwhile, we search the local shops for the purpose of our mission, which leads us to the basement of a Chinese supermarket.  Let's just say one very special birthday girl is going to be getting a dried squid via mail sometime soon.  

Thrilled from a mission accomplished downtown (you know where) we step onto the streets and back soundly into the United States of America, proper.  Charged with the confidence of together navigating the supermarket I halt us in our steps to purchase two lbs. of bing cherries for $3 from a street vendor, but by no means had I become comfortable enough to risk the 3 for $5.50 large clams.  Maybe next time.  After a quick flit through the Little (block of) Italy we hop the 6 train back uptown at Spring St. as the TAL 'one-day-only classifieds' band melodically lays down their rendition of Rocketman with a train-car accompaniment of mariachi's from the mid-car door space. 

This is my stop, I say, as I stand clear of closing doors  at 86th turning to blow a kiss into the air.  I walk the seven blocks home, uncharacteristically slowly, my memories of the day in tow, listening to the dangers of knowing a little too little about something.  I turn the corner onto my block as the current guest defends an embarrassing statement made at a social engagement by claiming, "I think as far as believability the unicorn is ahead of dinosaurs." 

I thought, in a way, I agree.  It was strange, it was random, as was the day, a perfect day with myself and my city.

(tal episodes mentioned above: macgyver, classifieds, a little bit of knowledge)