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.