A New York Theater

A beautiful sunny evening in New York city. Sparsely populated outdoor restaurant in the Broadway - Times Square area. Alone at table no. 4 – me and my beer. Flowing crowds of people around – in ones, twos and groups. Nameless. All I see is faces, attire, gestures, walk. So, I assign them names, purpose, dialogues, emotions.

Table no 1: White couple in sixties. Properly attired; he in a suit and tie; she in a beautiful dress and shawl. He held the chair for her while she sat. To catch a Broadway show. Mama Mia? Second marriage for both. Desultory conversation – younger days, musical interests. She with a Pinot Noire, he with his Scotch. Well-to-do… happy? Not quite. It is her father. Old, frail and alone. Rapidly degenerating into Alzheimer’s. Physical and emotional toll on her. Her brother and sisters scattered through the country. He is getting psychotic and refusing to stay at an old age home. Worries. This is one escape she has planned for months. Their anniversary. Conversation repeatedly getting back to what they are trying to escape. Hope you at least enjoy your show, folks!

Table no 7: Obviously on a date. Not first, both seem comfortable enough. Early thirties. Not quite frisky, comfortable with touching and kissing. Not living together - yet. Both professionals, directly from work. Here just for a drink. Meeting after a while, have missed each other. She gushing all the gossip to him; he still showing sufficient attention. Two beers – microbrewery. Life is beautiful – young, carefree, time yet for dreams. In their own little cocoon.

Table no 11: A group of men and women in twenties. Fairly boisterous. Get together of recent college grads? Some are paired, some not. Some have jobs, many don’t. One actually bartends at this joint. Today is his night off. T-shirt, tank tops and jeans, some shorts. A variety of drinks – mostly beers, some scotch on rocks. Lots of animated discussions, multiple, parallel. Talks of openings at a friends place, at a further uptown bar; at an off-Broadway production – small role, but beats waiting tables. Rent is due in two weeks.

Street is getting crowded. Black men at makeshift stalls selling cheap folding umbrellas, NYC maps, garishly painted NYC skyline pics, Yankee caps. Jehovah’s witness preaching something about the approaching doomsday and the urgency to acknowledge Him. Double parked unloading vans, honking cab drivers. A black man punching in the air, to some hip-hop tune directly fed into his head via a Walkman. Business casual office workers spilling out of the seven-hour penitentiaries, scurrying around through the traffic and human maze. Rushing as if to avoid being sucked in for another seven-hour term.

Vast numbers of tourists. Most walking looking skywards – catching glimpses of the famous buildings around. The neon advertisements blaring wordlessly, adding to the commotion.

Suddenly the distinctive English-sounding words stand out over the general noise. ‘Actually where are the theaters but, I am only seeing these big shops and all’. ‘Tomorrow morning we go to Niagara no? We are not paying that extra 10,000 for the helicopter ride; means the boat ride is free only, why to spend more money to see the water from up.’ A group of about fifteen – safari suits and salwar kameez. The Kesari (or similar) tour group.

Other nationalities follow – Europeans speaking softly in their undecipherable tongues, using binoculars searching for something unknown to the New Yorkers. Latest innovation – selfie with a stick. I feel trapped in many of their memories. Japanese clicking everything in sight without exchanging a word. Like aliens visiting earth, studying life.

A young Mexican couple approaches. She is clumsy, not yet gotten over being in the US of A. He has been working in some lowly jobs for a while here. Very sweetly lost in themselves. He telling her of all the big things about the city. She listening to him with such intent eyes. Planning on their first apartment. To live together, finally. They scan the menu outside. Giggle – probably at the restaurant's audacity to ask for $20 for a hamburger - fries extra. Discuss finances. Agree to move on. She holding his hand tight.

Those adoring eyes, that trusting tight clutch of the hands. The crowded city is suddenly emptied. There is only two of them – and they don’t need anyone and anything else.

My beer glass is empty too. Enough buzz… the beer, the look in those adoring eyes. the trust of that clutch.