Curtain Down

The day I arrived back in New York City, the angels were singing. Petey arrived from United Cargo in one piece, a friend greeted us with hugs and a hand made lei, and the baggage control lady let me get my bags from the “hold” without the necessary ID. Meanwhile,  H was already at my new apartment stocking it with essentials: toilet paper, gluten-free cookies, sparkling water, flowers, wine, and a wine opener. That night, I dined on an Upper West Side rooftop with friends and family. The evening was warm with humidity at a comfortable low. All was good.

On the second day, New York kicked my ass. Actually, it was Brooklyn doing the proverbial kicking. H graciously accompanied me on my quest to Ikea to furnish my new apartment, but we didn’t get on the ferry heading to Red Hook until after 5 p.m. We should have known better. In fact, we do know better. Still, the lull of the ferry, the breeze, and the views of downtown Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty soothed us, and I was convinced we’d be in and out in two hours. Then, the ferry hit a wave (who knew we had waves) just as I was taking a picture and my new Oakley sunglasses flew into the East River. "Yup, they're in the water!" yelled a helpful passenger. I sighed. That was the beginning of the end. Flash forward to losing focus somewhere in Ikea's living room department, a painstakingly long check-out line followed by an even more painstakingly long line for Home Delivery… I couldn’t exactly lug the new headboard home by hand.

By the time we gasped for fresh air outside Ikea's exit doors, we’d missed every ferry back to Manhattan save the last one, the 9 pm. We were tired and hungry enough that H made the executive decision to abort the ferry and grab a car service. Four minutes later we were in stand still traffic, still in Brooklyn, due to Obama’s arrival into the city. Again, we aborted plans and GPSed our way to a local restaurant. Where there were no tables available. And a wait list.  Our eyes were weary. Our throats dry. Our stomachs empty. The hostess was in no hurry to seat us. I decided New York was testing me. 

When we finally placed our orders sometime around 10 pm, we proceeded to entertain ourselves with a hangman game, the phrases reflecting our roller coaster moods and ranging from 'Welcome Back' and 'Best Sister Ever' to 'I Don’t Like You' and 'Smart Ass'. Once food had arrived and the color had returned to our faces, H pondered how we had ended up trapped in Brooklyn at 11pm on a Wednesday night. In the end, H decided we should not have stepped foot on that ferry so late in the day. “We overreached,” she determined. “That’s it. We overreached.” Post dinner, we dug deep and hoofed it to the nearest subway station to take the train home. Or three trains to be exact.

But here’s the thing about New York that many non-New Yorkers don’t know. There is aloha here. It may have a gruff exterior and it may swear a blue streak at you and it may snag you in traffic, but there’s love nonetheless.

As I ran toward my second train on the commute lugging the Ikea bag full of sheets and 500 votive candles, the doors on the train cars were open. I suddenly forgot if this was the train I needed. “Does this stop at Columbus Circle?” I yelled to a young man standing the door. “Don’t know,” he muttered back as the doors started to close. But someone in the car yelled out that it did. This young guy, leaning against the wall playing with his smart phone nonchalantly, stuck out his foot, propped open the car doors and kindly called me inside with a smile.

That, in New York, is aloha.

And so, here I am, back again. It’s true that I’ve been here before. And yet, I haven’t. Some things are the same, of course. The other night, I sat on the floor of my mostly unfurnished apartment drinking beer and chatting with three dear friends. And the other night, as H and I optimistically headed downtown on that 1 train on our supposedly quick shopping trip, we sat side by side reading a New Yorker article together. That is what I’ve missed. That, and really good Indian. Delivered. And yet, of course, I've never been Here before. Who has?

Back in June, I walked into that party in Maui and...well, let's just flashback. He was the first person I saw in the small gathering.  I introduced myself. Offered my hand. He told me his name. Took my hand.  And then, we fell in love, an easy, kind love full of laughter and ease. A love now titled My Very Very Long Distance Relationship. 

Life. Funny, isn't it? 

As H mentioned in her last post, Heffalumps’ original guiding question was “How did we get here?” So, here we both are. Looking forward and asking, “Where are we going now? And, what then?” With that, On Heffalumps And Other Detours takes a final bow.

As they say in Hawaii, a hui hou. Until we meet again.