thank you mrs. woodworth

"Well I think you boys should go there. You can take my car."

We were sitting at the picnic table in the soft grass under the maple tree. We were finishing dinner and the indigo water in the lake was beginning to calm.

Woody just rolled his eyes and smiled with part astonishment part uneasy excitement. He put his head down on the table.

"Are you sure?" I said. "We hadn’t really planned on this".
But we had. It was 4 hours to Manhattan. We would have left that night had woody’s jeep had windows and doors, and been a little more appropriate to park in the city over night.

"Besides." Woody said earlier on the boat. "Believe it or not, my mom is really excited for you birthday tomorrow, she has a special dinner planned. She would be upset to think we had better plans than to be here."

"Sure," she said. It sounds like you two will have fun."

If she only knew.

We left hammondsport at 7:30 the next morning. I gave her a thank you kiss on the cheek. Woody thanked her be peeling out in her grand cherokee as we left the gravel driveway. The last thing I saw was the disgusted look only a mother can make at her son.

The Catskills are beautiful. As I looked out the window at 80 mph, I could almost see them. Woody driving, and as usual, playing with the radio. As we rode along the banks of the Delaware river and into the poconos, we had dug out his mom’s tape with the mom style handwritten label: "Perfect Memories"

So as we barreled down the palisades parkway and over the George Washington Bridge, we had the windows down as Glenn Miller, the Kingston Trio, and Harry Belefonte sang to us about blueberry hills, tom dooley, and countless orchestrated tales of love. After woody offended the Caribbean man to whom he gave his mom’s keys to park the car behind concertino wire on a hydraulic car elevator, we walked out past the dead pigeon and into Manhattan. We were one block into the city and woody was already on his phone stirring up the network. "I wish you were here this weekend." I heard him say to one particular girl at least 3 times.

We made it to leanne’s in time for woody to meet her roommate, one of NYPD’s finest. I came out of the bathroom to find woody wearing her complete uniform, sans shoes and gun. "can wear this out tonight?" he asked her. "And do you keep handcuffs in your bedroom?"

The GPS woody had implanted in his brain led us to McSorley’s, and then to Hog’s and heifers, where, according to the bikini toped bartender, a $1.50 tip on three PBR’s and three whiskey shots of dickel isn’t a good tip in Manhattan. Woody didn’t apologize, but instead bought us more shots of whiskey, got her life story, and then asked her out on a date. All of the sudden, courtney - the bkini toped bartender, and leanne got up on the bar and danced to johnny cash. Then the bar tender leaned over and gave woody the middle finger. I guess that means no for woody.

The sun was still up as the buildings spun around above me. We walked to the taxi or maybe the subway. All I know is by the time it was dark, woody was still wearing his orange shirt with the silhouette of the state of California on it, that everyone in new york thinks is really either flordia, texas, italy, or a sock. I was still wearing my flip flops, but leanne was now wearing a gold sequined shirt that showed anyone who walked behind her why new york city is such an exciting place to visit.

White wined rooftops blurred into fluorescent lit and pastel tiled subway stations. Woody debated with the hosts of the dinner party as to where exactly in the world the country of Morroco is. But evidently, it is three flights down from the sidewalk by leanne’s apartment. As we walked down past the candles and velvet, an into the incense and music, leanne introduced us to a older gentleman in a linen suit who shook our hands and bowed his head, then promptly kicked out a group from the table on the platform right by the bar and told us to slide in. I blinked and woody, leanne, and her friend amy were playing drums and tambourines to the music. I kept expecting see belly dancers on a flying carpet appear. Or at least a monkey.

The one million lights of time square shined in leanne’s shirt as we plodded through Times Square soem time later. Woody stopped to look for the NYSE ticker that scrolled around the CBS building. I stopped to look at the sky above the city, which looked like it was a tie-dyed explosion aurora borealis could never compete with.

Far and away the best was saved for last. My new york experience was about to come to a crescendo. I walked down into a bar with low ceilings, lower lighting, and even lower expectations. Then from out of the crowd I see the boys at heatherette, the guys leanne works for. We had met them earlier in the day. They are fashion designers, who, in my novice opinion, are the next big thing. Or maybe there already are, for all I know. But what I do know is that the bar got a little bit brighter when I looked back over my shoulder to see wood’s eyes get real big as Mackey gave him a healthy kiss on the neck. I give a wave to richie rich. We bounce through the crowd like a pinball and woody and I end up on the canary yellow couch towards the back of the bar. My head was spinning, my battery was flickering. It was 3:30, and from what I can tell AM and PM have no bearing in new york. Woody and I sat there and watched the entire cross section of humanity, sliced right down through all the strata, walk and drink and dance and fondle right before our bleary eyes. People in Liberia are dying. The skinny guy in the bleach blond mullet was flirting with the dark complected guy in the yankees ball cap. Buildings are burning in Nigeria. The cowboys in the bachelor party were dancing with leanne. The little guy in the backpack and the stocking cap with his pants rolled up to his calves kept walking back and forth, occasionally breakdancing. Soldiers are marching on the Korean peninsula. The guy in the black cowboy hat and primary colored polo shirt was texas two stepping. Richie rich appeared from the crowd around the bar. Leanne said he used to be an ice capade. That must have been where he learned that move he did on the coffee table we had our feet propped up on as we sat in the canary yellow couch. He jumped up on one leg, held his arms out and did a triple lutz off the table and landed between woody and I. He kissed us on the cheek and told me how beautiful leanne is. I was hard to argue with him as we watched her grind on the leg of Traver, the other part of heatherette, who was wearing trousers with the words "post no bills" stenciled on them with spray paint.

As I we left, we bid farewell, and I said goodbye to richie rich.

"Take care of leanne, and keep up the good work, man." I said.

"Thanks, Todd." He said. "But don’t call me man. I wouldn't say i am much of one of those. Just call me Richie."

"Sorry, Richie" I said.

And kissed him on the cheek as I thanked Mrs. Woodworth for the day.

Posted by Todd Roeth at July 4, 2003 01:01 PM