From 2010
December 23 2010 was my last day of work for the holiday season. Richie Boy and I had worked solid three weeks. That day an extra hour was added to the schedule in hopes of last minute shoppers. There were none. Jewelry was x-ed off Santa’s list this year, although Richie Boy held high hopes for December 24.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving on the biggest shopping day of the year.”
“I’m going to Boston to be with my family.” I had skipped the trip in 2009. My Xmas mood was Elvis Presley ‘blue’. The day had been spent drinking wine at Frank’s Lounge. This year was different. My father’s death in November had slashed the fabric of my universe. I shrugged to Richie Boy. “I’m done.”
“Okay, if that’s the way you feel.” At the end of the day he gave me my salary and bonus. A little more generous than 2009.
Richie Boy, his father, and I drank a bottle of wine after the safe was locked for the evening. It was 7pm. We drank another and toasted our effort this year. That summer we had been dead in the water, but Richie Boy and I and Manny pulled off some lucky sales.
“See you next week.” I went home to the Fort Greene Observatory to pack my bags with gifts for my nieces and nephews. Sleep came early as did my morning alarm.
7am.
On the Fung Wah bus to Boston by 10.
South Station by 3.
Two beers at Jacob Wirth and a train to the South Shore for a joyous reunion of friends and family at my old next door neighbors. I drank Black Russians, wine, and a glass of Irish whiskey. My brother-in-law said that I was the loudest person at the gathering.
“Then I accomplished my mission.”
Christmas morning I awoke on their couch. Somehow last night I had changed into pajamas. My breath could melt chrome off a tailpipe. I blamed the cat, Shadow, for peeing in my mouth.. Christmas dinner of turkey and apple pie at family tales. Laughter of old stories following accusation of mendacity. My tales were constant targets and I said, “All stories are true if interesting.”
My sister went to the movies to see Summertime Christmas with her daughter and her new boyfriend from Maine. His son was seeing something else. I sat with my brother-in-law and his good friend, Bob, a fellow lawyer. We planned a May assault on Mount Washington. Vodka-tonics gave us courage for the future climb. We were all the same age.
His son returned from seeing THE FIGHTER with the phone plastered to his ear. Orbitz had called him. His flight to DC had been canceled due to the threat of a blizzard. Continental couldn’t get him back until Monday. Amtrak wasn’t accepting reservation on the Acela. There was only one option.
Fung Wah, the infamous Chinatown to Chinatown bus line.
This morning we woke at 7:45. My sister packed left-overs for both of us.Matt was expected at owrk the next day. The storm wasn’t hitting DC. His father drove Matt and me into South Station. We caught the 8:30 bus to Chinatown. The driver valiantly disobeyed every traffic law to get us into Manhattan within four and a half hours. The snow was light. I brought Matt over to the DC bus on Allen Street. It left at 1:30.
“I’ll be home by 6.” He hugged me goodbye. Matt and I have always been close.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?”
“No, I want to get home.”
“Good luck.” I felt the same way and subwayed over to Lafayette and Fulton. The snow was nothing special, but by the time I left my house, tornadoes of snow were swirled down South Oxford. People were hurrying home. The good grocery on Fulton was closed. The wine store was open. I bought a bottle of wine and hurried over to Frank’s Lounge to watch the end of the Jets game in Chicago.
They lost to the Bears.
I had three beers with Roe during the first half of the Giants game.
They lost too.
The winds blew hard down Fulton. The snow accumulation was already a half-foot This was no joke. I texted Matt. He was nearing Trenton VT. Richie Boy texted me from Vermont. Tomorrow was going to be a snow day. The diamond exchange had been closed, due to the blizzard. I bid everyone at Frank’s Lounge good night and trudged to the Fort Greene Observatory like a French soldier on the retreat from Moscow. My landlord, AP was with his family out west on a ski trip.I shoveled the sidewalk twice and then retreated to the top floor to cook myself dinner.
Left-over Christmas ham from Christmas dinner.
I texted Matt to tell how good the apple pie tasted.
“Nice.” was his reply.
He was nearing Delaware.
DC was another two hours away.
But Fung Wah was determined to get him there.
“When no one else is moving, Fung Wah will get you there.”
They were dependable.
New York’s mayor Bloomberg was golfing in Bermuda for the storm. The sanitation commissioner had been trapped by drifts in Queens. Thanks to him work crews were organized to shovel out buses and stranded citizens, who had to get somewhere or at least thought they needed to be elsewhere. Nothing moved on Fulton Street in Fort Greene and the subways were closed to avoid their getting trapped above ground in the outer boroughs. Mayor Bloom fired the sanitation commissioner after he returned tanned from the Elbow Beach Club in Bermuda. Like a blizzard he was dependable. An asshole like all billionaires.
