I’m baaaack, mes chéris! Back to my blog and back from New York. It’s been quite a whirl, but before I get back into the swing of things, let me fill you in on The Proceedings aka: Day Six: My Last Day In New York. 😢
It was my last day and I awoke feeling tired (from gallivanting at The Great Comet the night before) and rather distressed. The cause of the distress was my ensuing departure from The Greatest City In The World. It had been quite a palooza (to say the least). I thought about where I should gallivant off to on this, my final day in the home that I love (I start singing Fiddler On The Roof when I’m in deep distress, you probably do too). I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so I decided to go to Union Square, a nice big square filled with sights and sounds. So far in my journey I’d seen most of Manhattan, but I hadn’t been to Union Square yet so I knew I should go.
Things I Did In Union Square
- Ate an very, very large ginger snap cookie which was the size of my head
Out of Union Square I walked and came to the Strand Bookstore, a very large, very fabulous bookstore that is four levels. Four. What Even?! (What Even is something my very dear friend says whenever possible. She knows how to tap dance and thus is perfect.)
The Strand had many things in it, some of which I acquired. During my perusal of the enticing shelves, a short man stopped me and asked the story of my fabulous lavender beret. Gratified, I told him all about it, from my first spotting of it at a local thrift shop, to my acquisition of it with two dollars I’d found in my pocket, to, at last, my happiness and joy when it was finally mine and I began to wear it at every possible opportunity. When I looked up I found that the short man had left. It was unfortunately at that moment that I realized he had, in fact, not actually been interested in my fabulous lavender beret, but in something else, the else bit being (duh Lil) hitting on me. Me, a poor, insane theatre geek. I retched a couple of times in my mouth, started to cry very briefly behind a literary tote rack, and brushed it off. My beret is still pretty offended though, just saying.
Anyway, after that little jaunt, I knew where I had to go, which was I had to walk. I really like walking, it makes my knees feel like they’re going to give out and then I can fall dramatically on the sidewalk. I don’t do it very much, but it’s a useful thing to pull out.
As I was walking I thought to myself, wouldn’t it just be absolutely splendid if you’d lived during Alexander Hamilton’s time? You could have gallivanted around New York with the Schuyler sisters and Lafayette and people!
And then I came across this. A statue of none other than the Frenchman himself, the great Lafayette. As you can possibly maybe see in this picture I began to fall, as I attempted to pose on Lafayette’s pedestal, partially from amazement, partially from my precarious shoes. It was very exciting. I may or may not have begun tearing up.
I waved to Lafayette. And then I knew what I had to do. It was something I’d been dreading, but something that had to happen. I, Broadway Lil, had to catch my train. Doesn’t that sound just like something a real New Yorker would say? Gotta catch my train or I’ll be late to rehearsals for my musical that I wrote. Something like that.
I bought a pretzel on my way to the train. I ate it very quickly on the street, mustard puckering up my mouth, salt burning my lips, the pretzel vendor wishing I wouldn’t stand in front of his cart. It was quite a good pretzel and I decided that when I move to New York I will eat one every morning for breakfast, possibly next to the Lafayette statue, probably with Audra McDonald and Lila Crawford. The last part takes some working up to, but who cares? That is my question.
My train was late so I sat on my suitcase and finished most of the pretzel. I kept a little of it to keep in a drawer. I am very predisposed to keeping important things in drawers, such as ticket stubs and gum wrappers from important events (okay, not really the gum wrappers, I just keep them because I can never remember to throw them away when I empty out my wallet at the end of the week) (why am I telling you this irrelevant and mildly worrisome information?) (Sorry, I just like you a lot, I guess.)
My train pulled up loudly and tried to blow my bit of pretzel that was meant for the drawer away, but I held onto it very tightly, grabbed my suitcase, took one last look at the New York City I could see through the Subway entrance, and jumped on the train. It was all very dramatical.
In the subway I took a selfie. I may or may not have been crying.
As I watched the city pass out of view, I reminded myself of something. If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere. I made it there! So Mars, here I come!
It’s up to you, New York, New Yaaaahhhhhkkk!