That morning Serge and I walked to the Subway Station in the rain, stopping at Starbucks along the way for my usual iced coffee, for it was still humid as hell outside in spite of the downpour. By the time we got underground to the subway my hair was all the worse for wear, and I was thankful my type of guy found the disheveled look to be sexy on the off chance I happened to run into any along the way. I was fascinated by the metro cards used to get around the New York subways. As most of us Portlander's know, different max/buss passes have different prices for hourly/day/week/month time zones. And sometime, we'll just hop on the Blue/Red/Green/Yellow max lines without even buying a damn ticket and if were lucky don't get harassed by fare inspectors. Well the way the NYC subway system works is you put money onto a card, and then slide it through this machine that grants you entry to the revolving doors that lead to the subway. After Serge explained all of this to me, I put $10 dollars onto a metro-card and grinned widely when I slid it through for the first time. It wasn't long before our subway train arrived and after boarded Serge and I talked about Twin Peaks and Fire Walk With Me as we rode. Once we got off the rain had stopped, and it was a small walk before we finally arrived.
I was more than pleased to find that pricing for admission to the Met was pay what you will. Not to be bastardy cheap, I payed a dollar. Though I think it was Brendan who later said I should have given them a cent. I was taken in by how beautiful the Met was almost instantly. I wasn't prepared for the immaculate architectural designs of city squares and imperial bedrooms. The pillars of Rome straight out of a foreign Criterion DVD. I had almost forgotten what I had wanted to see most, which were the modern expressionists and photography. I took a picture of every Warhol piece that was displayed, all the while thinking about how much Serge said he detested Warhol. I also took pictures of a Pollack painting, couple of naked man statues, and Serge took a fantastic picture of me in front of a Kenneth Noland target painting. Art Museums and art in general, while I might not always be interested in a specific piece or am unable to devote hours dissecting each and ever fiber of canvas, always manage to consume me within their jaws of passion and poetic imagery. I find myself drowning in all of the magnificent splendor and depth art gives to my soul, my breathing kept steady by the inspirational light that is its gift. Yes, I fell in love with The Met.
When we left The Met, I got Serge to take my long awaited photo of me sitting on the steps of the Met ala Gossip Girl for me. Then we walked around a bit. Serge needed food so we stopped at Burger King, and afterward I stopped at a corner hot dog joint that sold fruit blended smoothies. I was in need of a drink that was enriched with actual vitamins so I chose this place. Along the back walls were posters of fruit, and the one for Papaya stated that Papaya was known to increase male fertility. And suddenly I was overcome(so to speak) with the image of papaya increasing my own male fertility thus resulting in my sperm shooting out fifteen feet into the air when I masturbated(as I was in no position to get a woman pregnant) So of course, I bought a papaya smoothie.
Serge and I walked along the Upper East Side as we headed towards Central Park. There were two things within Central Park I had any real interest in, aside from walking along one if its MANY paths for a short while. I wanted to see the Lewis Carroll statue and Strawberry Fields. Serge granted one of my requests and took me to the Carroll statue, since the Fields were all the way on the other side of the park. Once we found the statue there was a swarm of kids crawling all around it. I turned to Serge and jokingly asked where my tear gas was. But by the time we were at the statue taking pictures I no longer minded. It was such a beautiful piece and I felt so full of wonder as I climbed up that mushroom having started to reread Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and developing a new kind of special attachment to the story.
We made our way back to the subway walking through the last stretches of park. The clouds were beginning to reform, and by the time we got back to Union Square it was pouring worse than it had that morning. Serge and I weren't even in it for longer than five seconds before we ducked into a nearby Best Buy to hide out for awhile. By the time we decided to come out of hiding the rain might have dropped a centimeter, but it was still end of the world type downpour. I wanted/needed food and decided to partake in my McDonald's gift card at the nearby McDonald's that wasn't far from the apartment. Serge wanted to get back so he made sure I knew how to get back to the apartment and then told me to have an adventure. My adventure was getting my food, keeping my head down enough to use my head as an umbrella from my face and food, and asking the doorman to ring me up and grant me access to the elevator once I got back to the apartment building.
The rest of the night was spent in the apartment, save for the three of us going out for Mexican food which I didn't get any of because I was still full from McDonald's. It was at this time that a couple of things happened. The first being my hypochondriac paranoia in that I might have been getting sick in that moment, which later I chalked up to travel fatigue and heat exhaustion. The second was a sudden sense of homesickness that led to mass texting later that night as I lay on the leather couch fighting for sleep. And the third was on the way back, when Jason ran into an upstairs neighbor who was getting married. Jason told me that these neighbors of his paid nearly two grand for their studio. This became part of my NYC storytelling line up back home, after telling everyone how cigarettes are twelve to fourteen dollars a pack with tax.
That night I read late into the night, helping to settle my fatigue. I started listening to my NYC soundtrack and finished The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer. I then dipped into Alice's Adventures in Wonderland before finally falling asleep around five A.M. New York time. In three more hours I would be waking up to meet Brendan. Which also helped settle my fatigue in that I would get to see one of my long lost best friends in just a matter of hours. At point point through all this Jason made popcorn and gave me a bowl of it which made me happy.
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