#549 The Little Lady Stomps NYC

I had a very good visit with Daughter and "the leading candidate for son-in-law", Hercules.

Saturday evening we went to see Stomp, something I've wanted since I first saw them on TV in the mid 90s.

Getting there was half the fun. We planned to drive to a Park-'n-ride and take a bus into the city, but Daughter had been called into work, and was going to catch the same bus that Hercules and I would be getting on further down the line. We planned to catch the 5:18 bus, but it mysteriously disappeared, never showed up, so we ended up on the 5:40, which made time tight. There was all kinds of cell phone coordination to make sure Daughter would be on the same bus ("Ok, I'm on it, you should see us coming over the hill any minute....") I was prepared for her and the bus to vanish, as mysteriously as the first one.

The bus ride was fun. We were in the front seats, up next to the driver and the doors, so I got a good view as we were headed into the Lincoln Tunnel, and the driver cut across four lanes to go through the far right tunnel. I watched in fascination as he nudged cars out of the way, and marveled at itty-bitty cars that refused to give an inch, drivers bent far over clutching the steering wheel with full nelsons and red faces and refusing to acknowledge this behemoth bearing down on their flank. Daughter and I were bouncing up and down in our seats, cheering on our driver and congratulating him on every victory. Heck, we were in a hurry! The driver grinned.

We had mapped out a subway trip from Port Authority to the theater, involving two lines, but the lost bus cost us too much time, so we took a taxi. (Our driver's name was Paul Mensah, which Hercules thought was prophetic, or funny, or something. He wove us in and out of traffic like he was headed for a touchdown.) I was surprised that there were so many people on the streets. My only other experience with Manhattan was when I took a series of Company classes in the late 80s, and on weekends then, nothing was open, and no one was out - but Hercules says it was where I was - just south of Central Park. Not exactly Broadway and Times Square weekend-wise.

We made it to the theater almost in time (meaning they let us stand in the back until the first number was over, so we didn't miss much). I was surprised at how small the Orpheum is. For the next hour and 45 minutes I smiled like I haven't in months. My favorite part was the water-cooler jugs. Loved the sound of them.

When the show was over, I found a Ukrainian restaurant right next door selling pierogies, and I couldn't walk right past Ukranian pierogies. Then we decided instead of taking the two trains to Port Authority, we'd walk to the green one (on the subway map), take it two stops, and walk the rest of the way. Cool. Walking after pierogies. That means I could have a hot dog from one of those street carts, too! Whoo!

At one point we walked past a big building, and Hercules said "That's the Empire State Building", and I said "Oooo, can we?" so we did. It was pretty windy up there, but that's ok, it wasn't too very cold that evening. I was so jazzed that one of the security guards asked me if I was ok. He probably thought I was "on" something, but I was just enjoying everything enormously. I hopped up and down a lot. Sometimes I even broke into skipping. (Even if Daughter was acting like she was bored with the world and embarrassed by me.)

We walked through Times Square, where I got my real NYC steam cart hot dog (rather bland, actually, but only $2, and the bun was good), and Hercules showed me where he worked - we went into the building lobby and looked at the directory on the wall - and then we arrived back at the bus station. I thought my NYC experience was over. I was wrong.

There were about 24 people calmly lined up at the bay doors (#321), when two slick teenagers came out of the men's room behind us, looked at the line, discussed the situation (within our hearing, the idiots) and decided to cut line. They went out the doors of bay #322 and around the piece of wall and waited outside the #321 doors. They'd be first on the bus. There were three beefy middle-aged men in line just in front of us who didn't take too kindly to that. They referred to the young men as "the Gotti boys" (which worried one of the men, until I amended it to "more like Gotti cousins", to laughter - it's attitude, not blood). Hercules pointed out that the four of them ought to be able to escort two wimpy kids off the bus if it did turn out that seats were in short supply.

So we get on the bus, and sure enough, the two young men have appropriated the long back seat, and are lying on it, taking up the whole thing. And since we were near the end of the line, the annoyed men were in seats near the back. And, well, I couldn't see or hear much, but at least one of the older men, backed up by the others, went back there and told the kids that if they were so sick they needed to lie down, that they should get OFF! the bus NOW! and go get some medicine. He repeated it, in a very gentle and concerned, but firm, voice (but I'd have loved to have seen his face) until they "got it" and sat up. The other men then loudly and pointedly directed people back to the bench seat until it was full.

I was fascinated, especially because of the "Limbo" book I'm reading about the differences between blue collar or working class and white collar or middle class (in the cultural, not financial, sense). This was a very blue collar thing. According to the book, most men in the blue collar neighborhood feel strongly that it is their duty to correct and guide younger men in the proper way to act, and they're not going to let little snot-noses like this get away without proper instruction. That man was talking to them like he was their uncle, who was very disappointed in them, and I suspect they were from the same type of neighborhood, because they TOOK it like he was an uncle. It was a confrontational, territorial, and no-nonsense enforcing of the rules for behaviour.

Cool.

The cap on the evening came this morning, when Hercules presented me with a DVD of the Stomp show, which he had picked up in the lobby while Daughter was visiting the restroom and I was following my nose to pierogies. He also made a CD of the audio portion, which I listened to as I drove home. Twice through.

A good weekend. I'm happy.