A Pleasant Date

Tromped around Manhattan yesterday, which was cold and even scary at times, but ultimately satisfying. It's been brutally cold this past week, though I have to keep reminding myself that people who live in Saranac Lake (-31 degrees with wind chill), Mt. Washington, New Hampshire (-86 degrees with wind chill) and Jupiter (-234 degrees with wind chill) have it a whole lot worse.

I bundled up like the bag lady I probably looked like. Last time I tromped around Manhattan was 20 years ago at the height of my Time Inc career when I was still visible. Now I'm old, which means for the most part I'm invisible. I belong to the invisible cadre, which consists of other old people, the homeless and tourists. That was the scary part. I kept thinking: What if space aliens descend outside of Penn Station and try to kidnap me? No one will be able to give an accurate description of me to the police –

"So, that lady they snatched – What did she look like?"

"Uh. She was old."

Somehow managed to circumnavigate the subway system to get to The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was proud of myself for that. When I was growing up, it was all BMT, IND and IRT plus Duke Ellington's apocryphal A-Train. Now it's all letters and numbers. Still, I got to the appointed assignation on time. Met the Museum of Natural History guy whose name is Ronnie. There was a Warhol exhibit he wanted to see there.

Ronnie gets into all the museums for free and you can too, of course, since strictly speaking they're not fee-based. There's a recommended donation, but if you're completely impervious to dirty looks and snarky comments, you can ignore the recommendation. However, Ronnie gets in free because he volunteers at the Museum of Natural History.

The Warhol exhibit had closed so we just kind of wandered around the various periods of Great Art chatting. I liked him. He has an interesting life story and we share a lot of interests. Born in India, son of Iranian Jews. Raised in an Orthodox household. When India became independent, his father decided it was time to leave and ended up in the U.S. because he had the most business clients here. Father was an exporter/importer. Ronnie became an exporter/importer too, of precious gems like rubies, sapphires and emeralds. Traveled to Thailand many times each year. Married a Thai. Eventually became single father when Thai wife was diagnosed as a paranoid schitzophrenic.

He talked a lot. Told me he doesn't usually talk a lot. Testimony once again, I suppose, to my investigative journalistic super powers.

At one point we were debating religion. "I haven't gone to a temple in 50 years!" he said.
"Still, I bet you don't eat cheeseburgers," I said.

He looked flabberghasted. "That's really intuitive of you," he said. "How did you know?"

Pretty obvious deduction: You may not consider yourself a Jew anymore, but if you grow up keeping strict Kosher, chances are you don't eat much bacon. In fact, the thought of eating bacon probably makes you physically nauseated.

Ronnie looks a bit like Abe actually.

We chatted for four hours or so, grabbed a light grilled octopus salad at a nearby restaurant (yummy,) established that we liked each other enough to see each other again though the distance is a bit of an impediment.

I liked him. I didn't more than like him. I got the feeling he felt exactly the same way. It's all good. I could see becoming his lover. We would go to a lot of museums and cultural events, we would go on long walks when it got warmer – like me, he tromps five, ten miles at a time. He'd cook for me. We'd have sex. I'd continue liking him, and I wouldn't get overly attached.

Kissed at the subway station – very nice, non-pushy. It is a very long way to and from Manhattan, but I love Manhattan and I have like a billion books on my iPhone.

At the farthest end of the Long Island Railroad, there's a two and a half mile tromp back to the house. God knows when I'm ever going to get the damn car repaired. It's a simple repair, but now there's insurance to buy and registration to complete too, and my small revenue stream is bespoke before it's earned. But you have to like what you have to do, or be miserable, no? So I enjoyed the walk through the barren boulevards of not-quite-Queens. It was bitterly cold, but I was bundled up and toasty, and had had a very nice day.