Doorway

I left the library on Wednesday to sit at Bryant Park. It is chilly and dark, but the floodlights watch the tourists as they skate and their giggles warm the air in return. This evening, none of us has anything to do so we wander around the brutal and imposing city, so far removed from nature but terribly beautiful still. The rows and rows of walls wear fire escape ladders like a messy girl who cant keep her hair out of her eyes. We sit in a park and drink, like winos. The trees have barely changed colour, the fountain is turned off, strange people around, and a gay couple full-on making out. This is the problem of the 18 year-olds in America: there is quite honestly nowhere to go.

It is time for Thanksgiving dinner. The food is, as expected, fucking ridiculous and there is obviously more than all of us could painlessly eat. Except for the fact that everything is in plastic. I ask if I should set the table, because that is how I help best. They bring out plastic table lining, plastic crockery and cutlery, and we sip wine from plastic (ugh) goblets, while taking salad dressing straight from squeeze bottles. And this is supposed to be The Great American Meal.

Tonight, I meet Marie at her old workplace, an Irish pub on 57th. To get there, I walk 20 blocks. For all that effort, this Irish pub is not half-decent. I'm beginning to think that everything American is truncated, sanitised, folded in two and then rolled out flat. Not that I dont envy Marie's previous lifestyle, I think I could get used to just working and surviving in a nothingandeverything city. We leave together, me to meet Bethany and friends. Joel is there and he's cute like a button. So I tease and taunt him. I lie on his lap and we chat. Everyone goes to Zack's show a little before us, so it's just us two as we leave Laura's place. I'm in the doorway and we're saying we should go. He puts a hand on my chest, my heart is pounding (I'm already off the wall by now) and I almost make my move. But I know, I dont really want to, because. So I dont, and it's Friday night, I'm in New York City, USA, I'm not impressed at all and all I can think of is I want to tell Ryan about my week and why the fuck hasnt Rudy written to me in so long.