Last night I slept in the front room of Betsy and Andrew’s apartment in the east village. There was a cacophony of thunder and strobe lightening outside, and I made the mistake of reading about the storm chasers who died on Friday by a particularly unpredictable tornado whilst I was brushing my teeth.
Needless to say, I dreamed of severe weather, and awoke in a panic at 5 am, convinced that the quaking ground and roaring din was the tornado I had been anxiously awaiting in my dreams. Imagine my shock when I realized it was just a street cleaning truck and it wasn’t even raining outside.
By the time I made it out on the street to catch a cab to the airport, it was raining again, and catching a cab involved some drama. But there was no traffic to the airport despite the rain, and I encountered no lines to check my bag and make it through security. I was real proud of myself, to arrive, coffee in hand, with plenty of time to spare.
Then my flight was delayed. And delayed. And delayed. Apparently the weather in NYC was so bad that the plane couldn’t leave DC. I missed my connection before I even boarded my first flight.
This series of events has resulted in my sitting at a brewery at IAD at 3:30 on the Monday afternoon. When I sat down, I ordered a beer. The server didn’t speak excellent English, and it took me a second to realize what she was asking me. She was asking if I also wanted a shot of liquor with my beer. I can’t tell if this is a reflection on me personally, or on the average Dulles traveller, but either way I told her the beer was all I needed at the moment.
New York was a blast, I got to see my friends with the following professional monikers: CBS, ESPN, the bartender/drummer, the publisher, the lawyer, the pregnant lawyer, the music CPA, the movie director, the special agent, the bartender with the rose tattoo, and my high school JV cheerleading coach. The space law professor and the animator were regrettable out of town, along with the blond lawyer and his fantastic fabric wife, and the blond cousin and his redheaded wife who is now also cousin. But that just means I will have to come back soon!
Thursday I was suppose to meet my favorite teacher of all time at the metropolitan museum of art where she and her husband were leading a group of kids (including their 4! Kids). My phone died, and I was sitting on the steps outside waiting until the appointed time to go inside. Mardi came up from behind and grabbed me and said – I would know the back of your head and jawline anywhere! You look exactly the same as you did when you were 14! Which I took as an extreme compliment. It was amazing to reconnect and meet her kids and wander the streets of New York for a little while!
Friday afternoon I met the movie director in Williamsburg. We had lunch, and then prowled around looking for a dive bar the director had heard was interesting. We had all but given up when we stumbled upon it.
It was the perfect Athens bar, conveniently relocated to Williamsburg for our beer tasting pleasure. Since it was happy hour, we enjoyed $2 cans of tecate and bud light. You decide which one I enjoyed. The bar wasn’t deserted, but it wasn’t crowded. It was a nice little motley crew of hipsters (townies?) enjoying a Friday afternoon sip.
The director and I were deep in conversations involving relationships and life and timing and other discussions on QUALITY and limiting the IS and other such deep discussions of life and learning, when a long haired fellow across the bar points at me and says “Hey! Are you a lawyer?”, and I turn around (with the knowledge that no one is behind me) and look to my right and left before saying, “Me?”, “yeah, are you a lawyer?” (I am technically a lawyer, but I’m not literally practicing law, so I forget this fact sometimes), and so I hesitatingly wake up from the discussion I was in and say, “um, yeah, I guess so!” And he replys, “This guy went to law school with you!” To which I say awkwardly and reflexively without looking at who he is pointing to – “Hi! I’m Charlsie!” To which the person next to him replies, “I know.”
Turns out it was an old Athens friend that I never expected to run into at the very Athens bar in Williamsburg. I like to believe that Athens is a universally recognized lifestyle that is transferable around the world. Or at least up and down the east coast.
Friday night we went to the Yankees game, and stopped by a bar called Stan’s before entering the stadium. All I could think as we navigated the crowd was, dang, I’ve never seen so many Yankees in my life. Lots of Yankees. To be clear, I love Yankees. Just a little overwhelming at first. Noteworthy at least. The night was full of corn dogs, hot dogs, popcorn, I threw out some braves trash talk for good measure, and capped off with some good ole Sinatra and a horrifically hot subway trip home.
Fingers crossed my plane takes off in an hour. XO
the thin line between optimism and delusion... 
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