2001-10-18 - 11:17 a.m.
I went to a benefit with my friend Deb for the families of the fireman lost at our station. The place was absolutely packed, the other firefighters were there, and the families of those lost. There were speeches and a girl who sang a song about her brother, and everyone was crying and hugging, and they must have raised a ton of money. All those people. They had a silent auction, and a raffle, and sold tickets for admission.And, you know, in the middle of all the caring, and the sympathy, and the sense of community - there always has to be an asshole. And generally, if there's an asshole to be found, he'll end up standing next to Deb.
This guy, who may well have been at the benefit for the irresistable combination of free beer and vulnerable women, was talking to her, all up in her personal space. Deb's a bit uptight to begin with, so she's sort of edging away, and he's moving in. They're standing next to each other, he's got his arm around her shoulders, and the silent auction is going on behind them. As he's drunkenly trying to blow in her ear, a waitress walks out, modelling a necklace being auctioned off. And without missing a beat, with his arm still around Deb, he turns around and yells out, "I'll pay $1000 to have dinner with that waitress!" And then turns back to Deb, like he'd just asked for a napkin or something. She extricates herself from his grip, and heads to the ladies. On her way back, she encounters a falling-down-drunk fireman, who slurs, "Hey, look, it's C@meron Di@z!" At which point the smooth talker jumps in and says, "Come on now - she's very attractive, for sure, but C@meron Di@z? I don't think so."And Deb whirls around, and snaps at him, " Do you EVER get laid?" I really almost wet my pants laughing.
Then we went to Mary's for dinner, and there was no wait for the first time ever, and we ate tons of seafood and talked with the people at the tables around us. We walked down to the Corner Bistro, and as I headed north on West 4th Street, I was overcome by that sense of well-being I sometimes get in my neighborhood. Those blocks are so quiet, so residential - lined with leafy trees and brownstones with glossy painted front doors and overflowing window boxes. There are half a dozen tiny, excellent restaurants on that street, and a small grocery store tucked in among the brownstones.
That is the NY that I love, the place that makes me feel like I'm the luckiest girl there is, living exactly where I want to, feeling good just by being a part of it. I never bring out of town people down there, though. I always feel like they won't like that part of the city, that they want to see the trendy, glitzy, fabled city. And then, as I walked back to my apartment, I passed the firehouse, where a young, dreadlocked FDNY EMT worker was kneeling on the sidewalk in front of the memorial, head bowed in prayer. I stopped, and bowed my own head for a minute, and then put my hand on his shoulder. And without looking up, he put his hand on top of mine and squeezed.And then I went home. Because there was nothing more, after that.
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last five entries:
done - 2005-09-16
playgroup, my ass - 2005-09-15
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she lives - 2005-08-18
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