THIRTY THIRD STREET
Thirty third? Wait a minute. I'm supposed to be at Thirty Fourth Street. Penn Station. Thirty third street! Did I just hear him right? I'm at fucking thirty third. I took the wrong train. All my life I've lived in this city and I choose now to be a navigational imbecile.
Watch the closing doors!
I gotta get out of here. Just made it onto the platform. What'm I doing here? Jesus, I'm at Thirty Third and Lex and I need to be at Thirty Fourth and Eighth. What'm I gonna do? Hey voice!
(…)
He's asleep. I'm on my own. Great, I have no cab fare and I need to get across town. That could take at least twenty minutes. He's probably standing there wondering where the hell I am. He'll probably take off in ten minutes. He'll probably think that I'm blowing him off, a revenge tactic, a kick in the teeth. Look, that's not it. I want to see you. I really want to see you. Maybe if I haul up to the street and sprint over there I can make it in less than ten. I ran track in high school, a quarter miler. I got the wheels to cover this easily, just turn the feet on and fly.
"Excuse me... pardon me.... I gotta get up the stairs...excuse me... sorry." Okay, I'm on the street. Should I go over on Thirty Third or Thirty Fourth? I don't know, I don't know. Legs, just take me. Shut up and go. I'm moving. It feels good. Legs are pumping, I got a rhythm, I'm leaning forward, my feet barely hit the ground, the wind is taking me, I've never felt so fluid. Park Avenue's up there. Shit, look at all those people. I'm never gonna be able to get around everybody. I'm gonna have to stop. If I had a buck and quarter I could take the bus all the way across town. It would drop me right at the door of Penn Station. I'd get there right on time as if I'd taken the right train in the first place. What do I have in my pocket? Six cents. Beautiful. Way to be prepared. Wait a minute, I could still take the bus, just don't have to pay. This is no time to be lawful. I've seen it done before. You jump onto the back bumper and hold onto... you hold onto something, I don't know what it is. I've seen it done by two twelve year olds. That's less than half my age. If a twelve year old has the balls to do it then I'm down. All I need is a bus. I see one up there. Madison and Thirty fourth. It's gonna be close. It's gonna take a wicked gallop but I can make it just everybody, GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY! The bus is moving and I'm not there yet. I'm gonna have to wing it, launch myself onto that bumper and hope I land right. I don't know, I don't know. This is the shit. Ready... I left my feet. My eyes are closed.
Clang! I'm on. What the hell is there to hold onto here? Whoa, he's taking off really fast. The smoke is relentless, it's jamming into my lungs. I can't see a damn thing. Maybe if I step back a little. NO! You moron. You would've been roadkill. That was close. Just think clearly and hold onto to window grill and slowly edge towards the middle. Alright, this will work. Hold on tight, don't think about what you're doing... do not look down. Do not look down. Wow, these things really move, there goes Fifth Avenue. This is not bad, not bad at all. I could get used to this. Check out all the women in front of Macy's waving to me.
"Howya doing!"
Bam! Christ! That goddamn pothole nearly threw me to the roof of a cab. Just watch what you're doing.
"Hey!" What?
"Hey!" A cop.
"Get the fuck offa there!" He's yelling at me.
"Hey! You harda hearing?!!" Look, I'd be happy to oblige you but the bus is going thirty miles an hour.
"I said, get off!"
"Yeah, I heard you!" The bus is slowing down. Uh oh, looks like the officer didn't like my tone of voice. He's coming after me, feets don't fail me now. As soon as this bus stops, I've got to make a break for it, turn on the high burners so I can lose officer Krupke who's huffing in towards me and my bus. I'm at Thirty Fourth and Seventh, Penn Station is only one block away and inside my blood is waiting, pacing around maybe worrying about me for the first time in his life. And I'm about to be chased by a cop. I'm off but he's still running. He'll never catch me with that gut filled with jello but I better duck into this alley just to be safe. There's a dumpster off to the side, I'll just crouch behind it. Stinks back here but I'm hidden well. There he goes, ran right by me like a Keystone Cop. I got to bolt out of here now. Someone's waiting for me who happens to be my father. For most people this would be like any other day-- a boy going to meet his dad at the train station. Daddy's coming home. Daddy's coming home. What an exciting thing. My legs are pumping now. I better check behind me for a second to see where the officer is.
Slam!
Ow! What the fuck!
"Watch where the hell you're going you stupid motherfucker." That bagwoman plowed right into me and, oh Christ, the edge of her cart cut my leg open. I'm bleeding. "This is my block, my fucking block. You can't come runnin' round here like some crazy ass blind mutherfucker." Now she's going to lecture me. I don't need this. "Stupid sonavabitch comin' in here kickin' my things around. Who you think you are?" I'm done, lady. Don't say another word. "Dumb ass coming in here…look at yourself."
"Take that piece of shit out of my way before I slam it over your fucking skull!"
I shouldn't have said that, I know. I'm starting to lose it.
"Escuse me?"
"I'm sorry... I just..." I don't have time to discuss this with her, just go.
"Get out and stay out, stupid motherfucker
comin' in here. You stay the
hell out!" I'm out, say whatever you want. I'm not listening any more. My leg
is killing me, there's so much blood it's seeping through my jeans. I'm telling
you I'm about a half inch away from exploding out through the top of my skull. What
am I doing anyway? I'm chasing him, that's what I'm doing, Chasing him. And
each time I get close, he inches just away from my reach. What an irony. Twenty
four years ago he abandoned me now I'm running after him with my head cut off
and a bleeding leg. Forget about it. I'm walking in there on my own terms. No
madness, no rushing. If he's there, he's there. That's fine. If he's not, then
there's nothing I can do about it. I made the effort, I made the cause to get
here, made the cause to find him. If he can't meet me halfway then he will miss
out. End of story.
There's the door to Penn Station. I'm in. Not too many people here today, at least at this time. Just a few stragglers here and there. As soon as I get off this escalator, I should see him. He might be hard to spot, I mean I don't have anything to go on other than a few photos from 1960. A lot of things can happen in this much time. I heard he put some weight on, especially in the gut, from drinking too much sauce. He also told me he has a beard. Bearded man with gut. That's what I'm looking for. Maybe he'll have his violin out. This thing keeps going down, down down. I feel like I'm descending into the tunnels of hell. So where is he? The only person I see standing still is a cop. He better not be looking for me. Come on, I just started to calm down or at least I'd pushed the edge deep enough inside me so it wouldn't show through my skin. Mr. Copman leave me alone. He's walking towards me. I'm just meeting somebody here, alright? I haven't done anything wrong. Now he's giving me the eye. I'm not moving from here, I'm holding my ground, I came to do something. He really is coming towards me. Closer...closer. Jesus, my heart is going to jump straight out of my throat.
Whooosh.
He walked straight by me. I can't believe it, it was all in my mind. Now what the hell is it? Somebody's tapping me on the shoulder. Get away from me or I'm gonna drop you.
And as I whirl around, fist cocked
by my ear, I see these two hands in front of me, shielding a face. I glance quickly
at the hands. THOSE ARE MY HANDS. My fist drops so do the hands of a man I now
see in front of me. I look at his face. It is my face with a little more hair
on it, the skin more weathered. And the eyes. Jesus, the eyes. They are green
but they're mine. They look at me as if to say, "Go ahead and hit me. Show me
what you got." Instead, I stand there, hands by my sides staring at myself now
a little older. In an instant, I'm fascinated, terrified, enamored all at the
same time. He takes a step forward and slowly wraps his arms around my
midsection and pulls me in. I throw my arms around his neck and we stand there
holding each other tightly for at least sixty
seconds which, at this moment, seems to last for a month. I hear his nose
sniffle and my eyes start to water and massive fireworks boom and explode
within me then they gradually stream down like colorful roman candles descending
into a rim of dark water.
"My son," I hear him whisper with his head resting against mine. "My son." I've never heard a man say those words before. They're beautiful and they are all I need to hear. My breath has been taken away and for the first time in my life I really do like me. What comes after this is gravy.