A Stranger in a Strange Land

Who ya you calling old?

Me?!

Pfft!! Seriously?

Alright, alright, apologies.  

Yeah, okay sixty eight years around the sun isn’t what most folks consider young.

And I certainly aint going to start making absurd statements like sixty is the new forty.

Because by God, I wish I was forty again. Really.

But still…

As another birthday passes I find myself having to work a little harder as I try to remember images, bits of conversations, different people, and things I have learned all seemingly  fade into obscurity.

I mine the contents of my mind daily when writing. Excavating, analyzing, discarding the dross and picking out the gold. The years have added up making my memories layer themselves one on top the other like strata of rock.

Trying to keep alive these ethereal things that give me pleasure, embarrassment and sometimes pain. 

Because what is remembered lives.

So let me level with you – While I’m not exactly ancient or even very old

I guess you could say I’ve been around the block a few times.

Over the years I have met some very interesting people or what I’d like to call “colorful characters.”. Also I have found myself in some very unique situations where I made some decisions that for better or worse would impact my life later on. 

Many of these remembered characters or past events rise to the surface of my mind unbidden like bubbles arising from the depths of my being.

You all know what I’m talking about, you’ve all been there  – some event, familiar aroma, picture or even song comes on and it triggers a memory.

Why just the other day I saw this picture of this New York City subway train, and I remembered …well let me tell ya all about it…And while you’re here, have a seat and have a beer or a cup of Joe as this might take awhile.

***

My New York adventure started innocently enough after receiving an invite from my brother, Matt, who was going to a prestigious art school in Manhattan.

The letter came in a stained envelope that smelled vaguely like pizza. It said:

“Charlie, my roommate is away over next weekend – so if you want to come up for a visit – this would be the weekend to do it. I have to work a couple of lunch shifts at the restaurant, but we’d still have the nights free to have fun. Let me know, Your Brother, Matt.”

I was currently stationed at Henderson Hall in Arlington, Virginia with the USMC and had a seventy two hour Liberty available to take – so it sounded like a great idea. After all, Alington wasn’t exactly a boom town and while DC had its charming Georgetown area it struck me as more Collegiate than an actual happening place.

Besides from what little I heard about New York – the City sounded totally badass. And since I hadn’t seen the kid in six months – why the hell not?

I could take the Amtrak out of DC on Friday and could return to Henderson Hall to report for duty on Sunday.

Yep, it sounded like a plan to me.

I was freaking stoked alright 

***

My God, this place is crazy, I thought as I got off the Amtrak train at Penn Station in New York City.

Every one of my senses were assaulted. The blaring horns, the melange of aromas that seemed to combine the stink of urine with tantalizing food, the hordes of every ethnic group imaginable all desperately rushing to and fro as if it had just been announced that we were under an imminent nuclear attack and were seeking some safe haven.

A familiar voice broke through noise as I heard my brother, Matt, yell “CHARLIE!” and moments later I was being hugged by my youngest sibling who pounded my back affectionately with thump, thump.

“You made it,” he said. “I didn’t know if I had the right train…but here you are.”

Looking around in amazement I said “Jesus Christ, Matt, I can’t believe this place. Where’s your apartment?”

“C’mon,” he said, leading me up a flight of stairs. “I live downtown in the Village so we gotta catch a subway nearby.”

“Wait, we gotta take ANOTHER train?” I said.

***

• End of part one