A blurry gaze at a clock that disappointedly informed me it was 11:15am sent shock waves of guilt and nausea throughout my body as I lay in a nicely made up bed. The bed was in a room in an apartment in a 26-story building in Manhattan’s upper-east side.
Stumbling down the hall, I began to recall the events of the previous night. As if receiving a formal New York City baptism, last night my cohorts and I traversed the city like eager worker bees along a field of newly bloomed flowers. After a rendezvous downtown with some friends, we offered a feeble attempt at negotiating for a few remaining pieces of pizza at a local restaurant. Negotiating while excessively inebriated at 3:00AM is a futile endeavor. Lesson learned.
I digress.
Mirroring the day before, New York City exhibited another humid and gray day with only sparse glimmers of sunlight that unsuccessfully poked at the dark barrier prohibiting it.
From my comfortable throne of apathy within apartment 4J, the Big Apple pleaded with me to join in the frenzy of activity it boasted. The hum of FDR Drive, the laughter of children playing four floors below and the tapping of raindrops from the occasional shower relentlessly bribed me to join in. The city won its case as I carefully looped the laces of my new Pearl Izumi shoes into double knots in anticipation of my upcoming hike.
As I took to the streets, my eyes caught a glimpse of a cigarette butt that I irresponsibly discarded onto the ground 24 hours earlier. It was brown and water-soaked and appeared as though it had been through a lot the night before. I picked it up and tossed it into the garbage.
Immediately thereafter, the streets absorbed me like a blood cell flowing appropriately through a vein. I had officially joined the buzz of the city.
The vibrant, interchangeable cast of characters took the stage as I approached the borders of Central Park. Horses brushed flies away, Lady Liberty smiled as a young child donated a dollar and Sabrett dealers encouraged passers by to indulge. A group of excited revelers danced on roller-skates, a young couple passionately embraced each other and a red-faced gentleman loudly proclaimed “the truth” about America.
Excitement, drama, romance and comedy around every corner, path, street and alley. The characters lived their lives.
I watched.
Which role would I be given in this production? Where would I fit in?
I re-entered apartment 4J. The production continued.
I listened.
