In a New York Minute

By Dawn

Posted on Thursday, 30 November 2000

In A New York Minute

HIM

People.
Everywhere I turn there are people. This should be expected considering I live in a city where there is 6 square inches per person available, but what boggles my mind is that every day of the year more people arrive.
Why?
That was a senseless question. It's New York City.
Why not?

Lately I have heard the word "bitter" associated with my name, and perhaps the people who so fondly nicknamed me so are right. I am becoming bitter.

It's just that I had my life planned out since I was 18, and now I know it was a foolish thing to do, but I was young, impressionable, and determined. Really, there's nothing wrong with having set goals to aim for.

Too bad I can't seem to let go of the dream since most of it has not come to pass anyway.

Here is a very brief history on myself: By the age of 21 I was an orphan, that is if you can call an adult an orphan. Let me tell you that this was definitely not part of the plan.
By Age 25 I was working 60+ hour workweeks on Wall Street and by 27 I was a self-made millionaire. Still am at 30, like that means much. New York is full of millionaires. The secret is to keep your money, which leads me to my next point. Once people know you have anything closely resembling wealth, they cling to you like you're the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

We're inadvertently getting back to the 'bitter' subject again, aren't we?

I don't think I'm representing myself in the best light (which happens often), so let me attempt to explain with more clarity.

In some ways I'm just like any other guy on the street. I wake up, I go to work, I eat dinner, then for the rest of the night try to find amusement until it is time to fall asleep. Straightforward, wouldn't you agree? At one time I did date women, in fact I dated quite a lot, but no longer. Too many negative experiences that all stemmed from the same source-my money.
I had it and others wanted it.

A friend of mine pointed out to me that I might be going after the wrong 'type' of woman, and looking back I can see a pattern to what I was attracted to. To be blunt, I wasn't after intelligent conversation or booksmarts. Ironic, because I'm older and wiser and would really enjoy intelligent conversation, but I've forgotten how to play the game. Therefore, I stay at home and live up to the other word people associate with my name "Monk".

Yes, that's me-The Bitter Monk.

You may not believe this, but being called that doesn't bother me. If I may be frank, it can make life easier. Not many people bother to invite me out anymore with the exception of business related ventures, and instead they leave me in peace.

(Dramatic pause.)

I just realized how anti-social I must sound.
...
Perhaps this will give me something to consider during my idle time tonight while I'm alone in my apartment.

No more time for introspection now though. I must go off to work now. The bright side about work is that I have my own office, my own secretary, my own expense account, my own pager...and I don't have to make any cold calls from names out of a phonebook. All that is expected out of me is that I spend my days making rich people richer.
And yes, that does include myself.

The highlight of my day is taking the train. You get to meet a lot of nice people on the train in the city.
I'm joking!

Don't worry about it, no one gets my jokes.

The truth is I take the train because driving is a hassle, and taking a cab isn't as expedient as it sounds. I'm a stickler for being on time and after you've been caught in 1000 different traffic jams (my favorites are when we're held up so some Bozo from Hollywood can shoot a movie), you start to realize that the train isn't all that bad. Other than the people, the big drawback to riding downtown is the stench, but I'm a New Yorker so my sense of smell died a long time ago.

Once again I am coming off sounding like a sarcastic ogre. Truly, I'm not that gloomy of a person. It's just been one of those long years.

HER

Okay, it's official--I think I have bitten off more than I can chew. Once again I have allowed my pride to lead me in directions that I'm not ready for, but this time I don't believe I can conquer it. This is sink-or-swim time, and I think I'm sinking.

I think.

I have been in this city for seven months. Seven long, lonely, exasperating, debt ridden months. I've been reduced to having to live in the smallest apartment in the entire city that could accurately be described as a walk-in closet with a toilet. I am NOT working as a classical actress, but as a bartender in a neighborhood Irish pub. I have made two friends since my arrival and one of them is an odd little man who stands on the corner of my block. I am not very happy right now, and as hard as this is for me to admit-I miss my Mother.

I know, I know...Common sense tells me it's time for me to stop feeling sorry for myself because I have come too far to adopt this attitude now. Maybe if I shake it off with a trip to Central Park. No, that may not be a good idea. I'd have to try to figure out the subway schedule and the last time I attempted that, it was ugly. I do know how to get downtown, though. I could go there and walk Broadway. That is always good for a cry.

Just in case you don't know, I'm laughing at myself right now and I do this a lot.
Another small town girl with a dream, some pocket money and no real sense of the world. That's me.
I remember my first week here, I really did believe that I would just walk into an audition, wow 'em with my talent, and leave with the part. Instead, I had doors closed in my face and my purse stolen.
But the second week was better!
...I only had my purse stolen.

I really shouldn't be laughing because it wasn't funny at the time, but for some reason it is now. Maybe if you consider that I'm $400 from being stone broke and it will only take one more purse snatching and I'm out of here.
Although, I'd really hate to leave that lucrative bartending job I have. Now, that would be a pity!

I think I'll get dressed and take advantage of the situation while I'm still in New York.
I just thought of something!

If I would paint my purse florescent yellow, I bet I could speed the process up and be on the next flight home by morning. Now, there's an idea.

Me with my yellow purse in Central Park, reading a map so the snatchers will think I'm a tourist. I could be friendly and say 'please' and 'thank you'. That would be a dead give away that I'm not a native.
This just might work!

But I'm too head strong to give up that easily so I might as well just check the listings for open auditions again and beat the pavement until either my feet fall off or I get a part.

First though, I must open my window and air out my place.
Did you notice that the word window was not plural?
Yes, I have but one window and the bars that protect it from the outside world make it so special to look through. I can lean my head against them and -well forget that I even started this line of thought. The bars suck (excuse my language), but I do enjoy looking outside and watching the people walking by.

Hum, looks to me that love is in the air today. I'm counting two, no three couples in my view right now. Lucky them.

You know, in a city as large as this one you would think that there would be someone decent for me to go out with! I have never had a dry spell like what I have experienced in the last seven months.
One date.
One crappy date that never called again.
I have to admit to spending some time wondering about why this is and have come to the conclusion that there are just too many people in New York, and this leads to them cutting their selves off from getting intimate.
Too much stimulation, maybe?
Of course, this doesn't apply to all New Yorkers since that would be stereotyping and I don't like to label people. This is only my opinion based entirely NOT on researched fact.

I'm getting silly again, so I think I'll just get dressed and go downtown.
I'd ask my friend on the corner to join me, but something tells me that he takes his job as doomsayer seriously and won't leave his post just in case someone new passes by who doesn't know the Lord is coming tomorrow.

THEM

The platform on both sides of the train tracks was full of commuters, but two people stood out from the crowd.

On the north side of the tracks was a man in his dark business suit holding a briefcase in one hand and a rolled newspaper in the other. His eyes were trained on the concrete as he waited for his train to arrive. Briefly he raised them to take a look around and that is when he spotted her.

She, the woman on the south side of the tracks with the yellow sundress and long curly locks. She, who was smiling for no apparent reason while watching some children playing several feet away from where she was standing. She, who turned her eyes in his direction and locked gazes with him. She, who gave him the most sincere smile he had received in years.

He was left dumbfounded and for a short period of time considered jumping the tracks to get to her side. But that would be suicide and completely out of character. He chose another alternative and that was to continuing staring at the apparition of hope across from him as he contemplated what it was about her that held him so spellbound.

Then a train came and she was gone from his view.

He looked at the number on the side. It wasn't his. Hoping that it wasn't hers either, he waited impatiently as people pushed and shoved their way on and off the train. It was the longest three minutes he had endured since last month when he was waiting to see if a merger was going to go through or not. Finally, the squeal of the doors closing before him told him that the answer to his question was forthcoming.

Would she still be there?

She was.

She was also hoping that she would get another chance to see the man on the other side. Despite being slightly naive and simple due to lack of exposure to a wide range of people, she was still a pretty good judge of character.
Despite what some may believe, being small town doesn't mean stupid.
And it only took her one glance to see that only twenty-some feet away was a man she would have liked to meet. It was a shame that the distance between them was impossible to cross.

Until the time for the next train came, these two spent their time wondering about each other while unable to look at anything else. It was odd, it was strange, and it was incredible. Neither had experienced anything like it before...

Then it was over.

A train came and this time it was his. He did something he had never done before-he crossed his fingers before he got on.

Being tall he was able to see over many of the heads on the crowded car, but even with this advantage he couldn't locate her.
The first minute passed and he still held optimism as he made his way up and down the length of several of the cars, but she wasn't on.
During the second minute he looked out of the doors.
Nothing.
How could he have missed her?
The seconds of the third minute ticked away and he with regret he uncrossed his fingers.

She looked down at the 3x5 card she held in her hand. This was the next train that she needed to take. But the man on the other side. What about him? She let out a breath and thought for a minute.
It was probably a silly notion for her to believe that he would be willing to miss his train just he could look at her some more, but she had to hold onto her optimism.

She ran down to the edge of the outside of the car, wanting to find a space where she might be able to see over to the other platform, but she couldn't. There were just too many people milling about. It didn't take long before she knew there was no other choice but to get on the train and hope that he had done the same.

Keeping an eye on the windows as she passed them, she entered a car and tried to move around so she could find him (she still had the optimism). With her "excuse me's" and "pardon me's" she slowly inched to the other side, but she lacked the girth needed to easily navigate the crowed car and was defeated in her efforts. From the little that she did see, he was not there anyway.

When the doors closed and the train started to move, she released the prospect of ever seeing him again. Not in a city the size of New York.

The first stop was not far away and as seats were vacated, she sat down. The smile she often wore was not as bright as usual, but it still played on her lips showing her disappointment. It could have been nice, she thought to herself, maybe.

To stop the needless pondering of what might have been, she began to imagine that he was a married man with several children and a beautiful wife at home.
It did help a little.

His mood was low, possibly even lower than usual as he tried to make sense of what he had done. This was easy for him to figure out--he was lonely.
Lonely.
Of course, that didn't thoroughly explain his reaction to the woman he had never met before, but it was a start.

That same friend who had told him he was involved with the wrong type of women had also gave him another good tidbit of wisdom. He said 'If you ever find someone to love, you had better hang on tooth and nail because it doesn't happen that often.'

But, he wasn't in love. I mean come on...you don't just love someone you haven't even spoken to!
That would be utterly ridiculous!
Right?

Still, the phrase stuck in his mind as he traveled up to the car he always rode in. There was a logical reason he carried a hard-sided briefcase instead of the trendier soft-sided ones and it was because people tended to get out of the way of it when he held it out slightly before him. The man detected an empty seat a few isles up from where he was and sat down.

It was back to staring at the floor for him.

Now, all they needed to do was to look around once more and see that there were only four isles that separated them from each other. And it was navigable. No tracks and trains in their way...a few people standing, but they could be easily gone around. This was VERY navigable.

She, being the optimist that she is, was the first to move her head 'just once more' in hope that maybe she had missed him. Her heart skipped a beat when she realization set in. That man that she has been watching at the station was behind her!!!

After the realization came justification.

New York was a huge place and if she talked to this man and made a total fool out of herself...who would know? Heck, chances were she was going to get her purse snatched in the near future and be headed back home anyway. Yeah.

With this wonderful but false sense of bravery mustered, she decided that she was going to say hello. So why not go for it? What was there to lose?

Absolutely nothing.

She thought for a moment about the best way to get his attention but it was for moot because he raised his head and looked directly at her without prompting.

That bravery she was so proud of was short lived and she became tongue-tied. The ball was suddenly thrust in his court to make the first move.

And that he did...

He smiled at her. A real, honest, warm smile, and it was returned with the same. Now, if only he could remember how to properly approach a woman he might feel more like a grown man of 30 instead of a 13 year old boy rendered speechless by the sight of a pretty girl. The first step would be to get a little closer to her so he could talk without having to shout over the heads of the people between them. This is where his trusty briefcase came to the rescue. Standing, he simply pointed it in her direction and the like Moses and the Red Sea, the flood of people parted and he had a path to her side.

The all-important first impression now needed to be made and without thinking, he just let instinct take over.

"Are you married?" He asked politely. This is what popped into his mind first--not the best opening line he had ever used with women (we hope) but it did serve a purpose.

She shook her head no, oblivious to how unromantic their first exchange of words were and asked an equally imaginative question back at him. "Are you?"

"No. Not married."

"Are you involved with someone?" She asked quickly with a sudden feeling that he was going to tell her 'Not married, but engaged to this perfect woman who I'm planning on having seven children with.'

"No, no, no." He bent down a little so he could lower his voice so that the guy sitting next to her might not hear. "Are you?"

"No." She whispered back.

"Will you have breakfast with me?" He hoped.

"In a public place?" Remember reader...small-town doesn't mean stupid.

"Yes." He replied softly. At this point he would eat it on the street if that was what it took to get her to join him.

An impish grin came to her lips. "May I know your name first?"

"Yes, that might be helpful." He laughed lightly. "I'm William Darcy."

"I'm Elizabeth Bennet." It seemed a little odd to her, but she felt like they should shake hands or something. So shake hands they did.

"Elizabeth Bennet, will you have breakfast with me?" William was on a roll!

"I will." She replied just as the train stopped, and he gestured toward the door. Once on the platform he had one simple request.

"Wait please, Elizabeth." Taking the phone out of his pocket, he dialed a number.

"Will Darcy here. I'm ill and won't be in today. Ask Sharon to fax my messages to my home." This was the only time in six years that he has called in sick to work. Significance, you ask? This is a man that once came to work on the same day that he had broken his foot. He came with a 104-degree temperature before, too. He even went to work after getting all four of his wisdom teeth removed. William Darcy was a man who had never taken a personal day for himself...except for today.

"Do you need to be somewhere at a certain time?" William asked Elizabeth after hanging up.

"No, it's my day off."

Another smile crossed his face.

"Let's go."

ME

If you are curious to know how their day turned out, I'll tell you.

Nothing is irredeemable...

That day William found a little bit of the simplicity he had lost over the years and was reminded that life happens inside of a person...not on the outside. And inside he was happy. He ate a hot-dog from a street vender for lunch without his ever present roll of Tums and actually put his hand into the water of a fountain he sat next to. It may not sound like much to you, but to William it was a step toward freedom.

In turn, Elizabeth allowed herself to admit to another person the foreboding she felt being one person surrounded by so many. How homesickness threatened to overtake her courage everyday and rejection was something she had never known before. She told him about growing up on a farm, what it was like going to Indiana State University and the security of being able to leave your doors unlocked at night.

They held hands for the first time at 1:34 p.m. (William checked his watch) and it was charming the way he shyly slipped his hand into hers. It also felt safe and natural. Their day couldn't be called extraordinary by most people's standards. They didn't dine at the Russian Tea Room, or stop off for a matinee at some hit Broadway play, or even visit a famous art gallery. But then again, that is other people's standards and not theirs.

He offered to see her home that night in a taxi, but Elizabeth was never one to accept charity if she had the means to do for herself, so she declined and rode the train. Phone numbers were exchanged and promises made. The first (and only I might add) kiss was delivered at 6:12 p.m. when Elizabeth's train arrived.

Picture in your mind that classic scene where a man and woman embrace in a busy train station totally oblivious to all that is around them as they pour all of their concentration into each other and they kiss they are sharing.
Can you see it?
That's it!
That is what their kiss was like.

Promising, isn't it?

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