Thursday, February 23, 2006


New York, New York. These days I have a love/hate relationship with my adopted hometown because I know that as soon as the plane touches down in the city, county and state of New York, I will say goodbye to my beloved youngest child, again. Just how many times do you have to relive a terrible moment? Anyway, that's how it is. So we land at JFK on the redeye out of Seattle and struggle to the cabstand where we enlist the services of one foreign cab driver, who, God is good, has bathed recently and eats food that is not highly spiced. Apparently.

We drive through Queens in the morning traffic and he talks incessantly on his cell phone, jabba, jabba, jabbba, fawhoosh, fawhoosh, fawhoosh, skink, skink, skink. Until at a point, he says emphastically as he stabs the air, NAY, NAY, NAY; YOU DO THIS TODAY OR I SEND YOU BACK TO IRAQ TOMORROW. In perfect English.

Welcome to Noo York Citty.

Of course, our room is not ready so we stash our bags with the bell captain and wander out the front door to Starbucks. The phone starts ringing as they all bid us welcome; we are rich in friends and lucky in children and the day is deep and the sun is high before we know it. We look up and we have showered, changed, caught the 9 down to the financial district, and we meet our dearest friends at the Federal Reserve Bank. They have arranged a private tour. This is New York. A city about the size of Rathdrum. You can get a private tour of the vault that holds 353 billion US$ in gold buillion if you know the right people. Outside the front door, we talk to the security guard; former CIA, Secret Service. He has a black nylon box strapped to his left leg. I ask him if it isn't hard to run in that and he says it's not hard, it just took him a few weeks to get used to it. I ask him, if it isn't classified, if he could tell me what's in the box. He gives me a split-second look of benevolent pity, then replies matter of factly, if softly, "It's a gas mask. They're standard issue now."

Welcome to New York indeed.


JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA

6 comments:

PDXPup said...

Hi Mama! Glad you're back safe and sound! Got your message late last night as I was going to bed...I had accidentally left my phone on 'silent,' so I'm sorry I missed you. Call you later tonight to check in, okay?

xo,
pd

stebbijo said...

I love it when you write about Noo York City -- and this time the hectic pace of it's arrival. Your take on the foeign cab driver cracked me up.

Then when you let us know about the gas mask, I started to visualize -- well on second thought just forget it...

Pixie said...

The lovely J'Belle is back! OMG - I'm with Stebbijo... the cab driver description made me laaaaaugh! You funny lady.

Glad you had time with the Christ Child and am oh so glad you are back.

...I'm goin' with you next time. ;P

jb3ll3 said...

I'll meet you all there and we will laugh and run around and take our daughters to matinees and eat and drink red wine like velvet and shop and ....

Mike said...

"This is New York. A city about the size of Rathdrum. "

And yet, and yet, it isn't quite Rathdrum, truth be told.

JBelle, as a native New Yorker and one who jealously guards our right to be the most misunderstood culture of harried malcontents on the planet, I LOVE your NYC stream here.

I've no idea who you really are, nor your background, but when the time is right, please invite me to coffee in CdA on my nickel and tell me just how full of s--t I am.

I'm missing the old fashioned NYC can of whoop-ass, as it were...

Cheers!

Mike Kennedy

jb3ll3 said...

Mike, My observation is that New Yorkers hold entitlement to expression seriously. North Idahoans bear guns, New Yorkers bear opinions. I love 'em both. I'll catch up with you and we'll have coffee!