One of my favorite books as a child was "The Velvet Room" by Zilpha Keatley Snyder. Everything in life was summed up in the sixth chapter of the book, when Robin realizes, "But there were uncomfortable hollows, empty except for vague longings - like when you're hungry but not for anything you can have. And that was wanting, all right, wanting, wanting - wanting." I knew in an instant what the author meant when she wrote those words.
Tonight, I want freedom.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Subway Stories
I lived in NYC for several years. My experiences were varied. Friends from my homestate, which happens to be Connecticut, would come to the city to visit, and I would regale them with my stories. We called them my Subway stories, even though they all did not take place on the subway. They said I should write a book. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I should just blog.
This one actually happened after I left NYC, and moved to South Jersey, just outside the city of brotherly love. My husband knows how much I love the city still, and honors my birthday with a long weekend in the city. He also knows my love of live jazz. And so, to honor me two years ago, he managed to score tickets to see Chris Botti at the Blue Note.
We arrived early, but not early enough to get really terrific seats, and settled for the first table at the left of the stage, and took the two end seats at the stage end. First round of drinks comes, and a second. Chris opens the show with Ave Maria, and there I sit, with tears streaming down my face, I am so moved.
In the middle of his second or third song, Chris (I can call him that, after you read this story, you will understand why) puts his horn down, and says to his bassist, "You're kidding me, right?" And then, "Is there a doctor in the house?" he asks. I don't respond. I'm not a doctor. Several minutes go by, and there is a request made to call 911. I cannot from my vantage point, see the problem, but understand from what is being said that someone across the room is having a cardiac event. A second plea for a doctor is made, and Jon urges me to respond since, "No one else is."
The only way to get to the other side of the room is to climb over about 300 people, packed tightly in this club. It will take me 10 minutes just to navigate the room. So, what do I do? I dive under the piano and keyboardist directly to my left. "Excuse me, coming through, nurse here," I say as I emerge on the other side of the piano, at Chris's feet. I am now close enough to the patron in trouble and quickly ascertain a history, but I am in no position to provide much more than reassurance, and some cursory care, and in the worst case scenario, initiate CPR or hook up an AED if there is one available. I ask for Aspirin, and someone in the crowd complies. I give it to the man, tell him to chew, and loosen his shirt and belt. I say he needs to be lying down, and Chris is now standing next to me, offering his dressing room. Several men carry the victim to Chris's dressing room, and I follow. Shortly after getting the victim on Chris's leather couch, getting him in shock position, the door swings open and in walks another woman, not too much older than myself, who says, "Oh, good, you've got him in shock position."
"Who are you?" we say to each other, almost in unison. "I'm the nurse/first responder" I say, as she says, "I'm the doctor." Hmmm, took you long enough. My job here is done, and I turn and make my way downstairs to my husband, still waiting at our table at the back of the room. I get a rousing round of applause from the room.
Now, I gotta tell you...I was dressed pretty nicely, being it was my birthday, and we'd been out to dinner. I had on a low cut dress, black stockings and a pair of CFMP's to die for. My husband said it was like his own version of a Mastercard commercial.
Tickets to see Chris Botti at the Blue Note....$120.00
Dress by Old Navy............................................$35.00
Underwear by Victoria's Secret.......................$135.00
Chris Botti's and the entire band's eyes glued to your wife's ass as she crawls across the stage on her hands and knees............Priceless.
This one actually happened after I left NYC, and moved to South Jersey, just outside the city of brotherly love. My husband knows how much I love the city still, and honors my birthday with a long weekend in the city. He also knows my love of live jazz. And so, to honor me two years ago, he managed to score tickets to see Chris Botti at the Blue Note.
We arrived early, but not early enough to get really terrific seats, and settled for the first table at the left of the stage, and took the two end seats at the stage end. First round of drinks comes, and a second. Chris opens the show with Ave Maria, and there I sit, with tears streaming down my face, I am so moved.
In the middle of his second or third song, Chris (I can call him that, after you read this story, you will understand why) puts his horn down, and says to his bassist, "You're kidding me, right?" And then, "Is there a doctor in the house?" he asks. I don't respond. I'm not a doctor. Several minutes go by, and there is a request made to call 911. I cannot from my vantage point, see the problem, but understand from what is being said that someone across the room is having a cardiac event. A second plea for a doctor is made, and Jon urges me to respond since, "No one else is."
The only way to get to the other side of the room is to climb over about 300 people, packed tightly in this club. It will take me 10 minutes just to navigate the room. So, what do I do? I dive under the piano and keyboardist directly to my left. "Excuse me, coming through, nurse here," I say as I emerge on the other side of the piano, at Chris's feet. I am now close enough to the patron in trouble and quickly ascertain a history, but I am in no position to provide much more than reassurance, and some cursory care, and in the worst case scenario, initiate CPR or hook up an AED if there is one available. I ask for Aspirin, and someone in the crowd complies. I give it to the man, tell him to chew, and loosen his shirt and belt. I say he needs to be lying down, and Chris is now standing next to me, offering his dressing room. Several men carry the victim to Chris's dressing room, and I follow. Shortly after getting the victim on Chris's leather couch, getting him in shock position, the door swings open and in walks another woman, not too much older than myself, who says, "Oh, good, you've got him in shock position."
"Who are you?" we say to each other, almost in unison. "I'm the nurse/first responder" I say, as she says, "I'm the doctor." Hmmm, took you long enough. My job here is done, and I turn and make my way downstairs to my husband, still waiting at our table at the back of the room. I get a rousing round of applause from the room.
Now, I gotta tell you...I was dressed pretty nicely, being it was my birthday, and we'd been out to dinner. I had on a low cut dress, black stockings and a pair of CFMP's to die for. My husband said it was like his own version of a Mastercard commercial.
Tickets to see Chris Botti at the Blue Note....$120.00
Dress by Old Navy............................................$35.00
Underwear by Victoria's Secret.......................$135.00
Chris Botti's and the entire band's eyes glued to your wife's ass as she crawls across the stage on her hands and knees............Priceless.
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