And immediately after I posted my Ocean account yesterday, I felt really ill. Burning hot.
Wait, how could that be? I am just about the only person in New York still wearing a mask indoors or when in a crowd. The Ferry, Times Square -- I'm masked. Meals? I sit by the window, with good air flow. Airplane? Airport? Taxi? Elevator? Masked, with my super duper KN95, from reliably reviewed companies! Moreover, my friends feel great! So how is it that I am feverish and feeling like a truck rolled over me, back and forth, several times?
Of course, you think Covid. But honestly, I'm thinking that it's equally likely, indeed more likely that the mussels yesterday at lunch time were not fresh.
Still, I'm not going to risk it. Even with an early in the game negative Covid test, I don't want to feel terrible about passing on anything to these people who still have a chunk of traveling to do. So I do what I must do: I switch my return flight to today and I leave them to their last day in New York alone. Well traveled that they are, they can certainly manage a museum and Central Park and cousins without me. Let's not give ourselves too much credit for helping them on this trip. I mean, it's not like they're freshly 21!
I sleep a long time. Like ten hours. And I pack and I double mask, just in case, and take a last walk in New York, alone.
When I am in a place that's not home, I look at the people around me, trying to fit them into their place. But in this city, can you really tell what defines a New Yorker? Maybe you can. I snap this picture of five people crossing at 59th and sixth. The only ones not looking at a phone are the bicyclists. This isn't the New York I knew of course. We didn't have phones back then. Still, everyone walked briskly. Seemingly everyone.
What's with the skinny tall towers here? Ed and I watched a documentary on how these are built. Crazy enough to suspend yourself that high to add another floor to real estate. But who exactly wants to live there? You couldn't pay me!
The park is so large, the girl is so small... I've never loved Central Park. Maybe it reminds me of gym class: we would walk over sometimes and play field hokey. I was a pretty sporty kid, but I did not like field hokey.
Your classic CP photo...
And here's a shock! I come across an ice cream cart with these:
Good Humor eclairs, Good Humor strawberry shortcake. I liked them both when I was maybe 11 or 12. The same guy came out almost everyday and positioned himself in front of Korvettes, a couple of blocks from my home. Tony. His name was Tony. I wanted to believe that he liked me. He didn't speak great English and he was older and I have to think I was a pretty lonely kid to go out and seek him out so often. The last time I went I knew we would be leaving, return to Poland. I told him this piece of news. H smiled, nodded and continued selling.
At noon I test myself. Negative. I am leave my lovely hotel (my credit card thanks me for this early departure), and get a cab to La Guardia. And I'm thinking, if I do turn Covid positive, I want that to happen at the farmette, not in New York during fashion week where prices are mind boggling.
(One last look: United Nations on the march, with flags unfurled...)
I have a change of planes in Detroit. I am cold. Fever's back. Still, I am negative, I have a mask. I buy a blanket and cover myself with it, spread out on the floor like someone who's been traveling from another continent and back. The sun comes through, I am warm again.
Three hours later I board the flight to Madison. There isn't a person who needed to be home more than me right now.
Hi Ed....
