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My neighborhood knows how to follow orders!
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New York is back, baby! Well, almost. Two more weeks before we're 100% open for business. Have a desire to ride the subway at 3:27 in the morning? Get out your MetroCard, brother -- 24-hour service is returning! I don't know if that means the nightly scrubdown will still be in effect, but what does that matter? The smell of disinfectant with subway cars just doesn't mix.
Even Broadway theaters will be allowed to re-open... as long as they follow Gov. Cuomo's orders to maintain six-foot social distancing, which producers can't afford. Well, hey, you've still got Netflix! Have you seen how much programming they've got? And how little you have interest in watching it? Better change your mind!
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My spirit animal.
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I cop to being one of those people who wasn't necessarily looking forward to a major re-opening. Unlike many of my fellow citizens, I adapted to the lockdown quickly. As a fairly non-sociable person, I was perfectly happy to shelter in place. And as I noted in earlier posts, the initial blast of silence and burst of clean air was something to behold. I do not lie when I say the early weeks of the lockdown were kind of fun (for me).
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I know, I'd have looked better if I shaved.
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If I missed anything, it was background work, something I still haven't been able to resume despite the industry re-opening, on a somewhat limited basis, last September. This was a disappointment, because, having been sewn and stapled following the removal of a cancerous growth on the side of my head in December, I was ready to star in a remake of Frankenstein.
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Is nobody spared the indignity?
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Over time, though, I came to miss getting together with friends. Dinners, parties, trying new restaurants -- all of it was missing. We'd get together for picnics in Central Park over the summer, but those seemed like stopgap measures, particularly when sitting six feet apart. And forget about those outdoor bars on Second Avenue. I don't need to go through my 20s again. But if I did, boy, would I settle some old scores.
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Why do we do this only once a year?
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So it was with great excitement that we were able to resume, for the first time in two years, our annual Kentucky Derby wingding. For at least 25 years, our friends Bill and Lee have come over on the first Saturday of May to watch the race over a couple of rounds mint juleps that mange to be both refreshing and devastating. Until
last year, that is, when it was pushed back to September -- and, due to
the old "abundance of caution", Sue and I celebrated alone. Oh well -- more mint juleps for me!
But now we were all vaccinated. As usual, my wife spared no effort in the drink department, preparing the mint syrup the night before, and measuring the Maker's Mark to the milliliter. The juleps were then served in official glasses from past Kentucky Derbies, courtesy of one of our money managers. She also made the appetizers (crostini with ricotta cheese, fig jam and slivered almonds), while I handled the dinner. Derby Day is back, baby!
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I should've stuck to this.
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We studied the horses to place our imaginary bets. And by "studied", I mean the women chose by color (horse or uniform), while the guys went with the names. My pick, Soup and Sandwich, came out strong in second place before gradually slipping back to dead last. Picking the wrong nag again is back, baby!
But you know what was really exciting? Company! Shaking hands with Bill, kissing Lee on the cheek! Talking to people other than each other! Oh, the humanity! Maybe there's something to sociability after all.
There better be. Looks like we're just about out from under COVID, ready or not. It was fun while it lasted. Wasn't it?
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