AN ODE TO NEW YORK ENERGY
It was somewhere along the side of the Time-Warner building that I heard a voice that made me turn my head. I was walking curbside, the voice; a woman's voice had come from over my right shoulder. I didn't stop walking but I turned my head enough to get a glimpse of a woman about my age or perhaps a few years older. A million scenarios run through my head like the spinning dials on a slot machine and just as quickly landing on a final conclusion. My assessment: no threat. My action: engage. I figured she needed assistance and I knew where I was and I had a watch but her first words threw a new twist into my prediction of the encounter.
"You look very familiar, are you from New York?" were the words she whispered out in a very gentle voice.
Now I had to reassess. Had I worked with her when I was designing corporate productions, or did she recognize me from the interior design business, had she been at one of the fabric houses I had visited earlier that day? I couldn't place the face. It was a pleasing face framed by an expensive cut of blond hair, I did a full visual assessment for some sort of clue to her identity. She was wearing the kind of casual clothes a working woman might be wearing on a late Friday afternoon after work, a denim wrap-around skirt with a pale blue cotton scoop neck short sleeve t-shirt. She had leather sandals with a small heel and the right amount of appropriate jewelry. You could tell she still took pride in her body. She stood about 5'6" and was extremely trim and fit.
"I've lived in New York for thirty years but I moved back to Wisconsin two years ago."
"I'm originally from Michigan, now I live alone perhaps you would like to come and visit me sometime?"
We have now moved into dangerous uncharted territory for me. First of all she's barking up the wrong tree. Second, I'm a little flattered. Third, it's all pretty innocent and I don't want to hurt her feelings, I'd rather find a way out of this without having to embarrass either one of us.
I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head, "What do you do?" Thinking we'll continue on with the "I know you from somewhere" theme.
"Oh, I'm very talented." And I'm still in the dark.
Then out of the mouth of a stereotypical looking gracious grandmother came a litany of amazingly graphic acts she could do to my private parts.
I finally grabbed a clue, "I've got a partner."
This whole encounter only took half a block. I turned up Broadway. I never looked back to see which direction she went. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face or keep from bursting into a little manly chuckle every few steps as I practically danced up Broadway. New York can be so entertaining.
George Brassai, photographer
Represented by Fahey/Klein Gallery, Los Angeles