Refurbished JetBlue terminal from the 60's was awesome!
The longer I walk around with "MORON" on my forehead, the more convinced I am the world is insane. You really don't see a problem with this? Reactions range from Oh-you've-got-something-stuck-in-your-teeth to Oh-I-see-this-every-day. I mean, really? Just how fucked up is this planet. Is everyone a freak too? Dear Lord!
Such were my reflections sitting in my comfy JetBlue seat, watching a Nash Bridges episode on mute. No one on the airplane or at the airport really cared what I looked like just so long as I didn't make much noise - unlike the traveling girls choir six rows ahead of me. After passing through the stunning terminal, I shyly hailed a cab and someone actually stopped for me. The cabbie asked me if I planned on having the letters tattooed on my forehead and that set the tone for the city. I told him that was my plan only if I planned on driving a cab for a living.
OK, so I blew my cover right off. I promised myself to stay in my role as a moron later. How is everyone going to know I'm a moron if I don't act like one! The truth will out!
I had reserved a penthouse at the Shoreham, a small boutique hotel on 55th, not too far from Jimmy Choo's. In New York, the only thing they see is green so my forehead was a bribable eccentricity. I remembered reading how New Yorkers' coolness was better than any five bodyguards John Lennon could have hired. I understood that remark now. You're on your own here, pal.
View west on 55th from my penthouse
The plan was to head to Jimmy's right away but I was famished from the flight so I stopped at Nello's on Madison Avenue for a bite. A young Italian girl was my waitress and I'm not sure she'd been doing it for very long - probably why she got stuck with me. I had the special of the day: Ravioli stuffed with crab meat and covered in lobster sauce. The meal was delicious but unfortunately I couldn't help myself from thinking how many 7-11 corndogs I could buy for that 50 bucks. I tipped the girl another 50 bucks in true New York extravagance along with duly impressing her with my knowledge of the exact number of aluminum cans to takes to cash out 50 dollars.
As I exited back to the street I heard her say, "What a moron!". That's when I knew my plan would work.
I was upon Jimmy Choo's before I knew it and suddenly I questioned the wisdom of my plan - I hated the whole idea of it. My nerves told me something big was about to happen. Fuck it...I have to do this. The world must know I'm a moron!
The store was very small and yet it had it's very own doorman. His eyes immediately zeroed in on my forehead, the first real acknowledgement of it since the cab driver. But this was a look I hadn't seen before. His mouth was silent but his eyes were screaming - almost a look of discovery. Eh, whatever, don't have the time.
Then I saw the cause for my nerves outside the door: I was prey for a mini-skirted cougar. My instincts pounded as she purred her way over to me. My sweaty palms knew as I saw her lips part she wasn't going to ask me my thoughts on a geopolitical solution to the Middle East crisis.
Oh yeah, I'll take a pair of those!
Shoes are nice too.
"My, my - aren't you something?" she asked more to herself than to me, circling around.
"Yes?" I hoped was the correct answer.
"Boy, could I do something with you. How about I make you my live-in maid? You can serve me and friends in between fucking your brains out. I got twin 17 year old daughters that will tear you up and put your bitch ass to work too. After a couple of years I'll get tired of you and throw you out on the street high and dry. How does that sound?" I quivered helplessly as she ran her finger from the bottom of my neck to under my chin.
"Can't do live-in! I've got my cat to take care of."
"My pussy needs taking care of too." She moved her hand down to my crotch and felt a different answer than what I replied. Cougar lady had a total understanding me, she knew my prison. I stood revealed at last. But I also knew what I could and couldn't live with. Family first.
Stiffly, I turned to exit the shop and thought of nothing but clearing my forehead once and for all. The doorman opened the door for me only now he had this shit-eating grin on his face. What's up with this dude? Oh wait, I knew that grin - it was that of a Cheshire Cat.
Actual store. Say hello to the doorman for me.
I was still flustered as I got on the elevator to the Shoreham's penthouse and this hot chick gets on there with me. She's dressed to kill and her eyes twinkled mischievously, yet somehow her gum chewing distracted from all that. I'm thinking: Do I really want to analyze this? I was in no mood for shit.
Her eyes go up and down, checking me out, then: "What happened? Lose a bet?"
"No. I don't mind riding in the elevator with you."
"Oh, smart guy, huh?" She was expecting easy prey and failed to appreciate my non-easiness.
"Uh, no - moron." And I pointed to my forehead.
Time to put me in my place. "You are a moron! What kind of weirdo puts 'Moron' on his forehead? You need help, dude."
"Who said I put it on there?"
That made her snort. "Well, whoever did it knew what they were talking about. Who was it anyway, your girlfriend?"
"No, it was some chick on an elevator." And I smiled a moron smile.
"Look, dude, don't talk to me anymore, OK?"
I was saved by the elevator bell as the doors opened and she departed. I decided on one last attempt at friendliness. "Hey, how 'bout a hand job later?"
She strutted away voicelessly, never looking back, but replied with the universally understood solitary finger. Life was back to normal.
After a rest, I headed to the Shoreham lobby for a final meal before my return flight. I sat at my table relatively anonymously, blithely watching other anonymous passersby. I wondered if I was the most ridiculous man in New York City at that moment. It sure felt that way. Disturbing images from Midnight Cowboy trailered through my mind. Am I just another Texas hick walking the streets of a world he does not understand?
He's got 'Moron' written on him too
Time spent on this odyssey has been a kaleidoscope of insanity. Maybe I thought my own insanity would protect me from the world's. Fuck, I don't know what I was thinking...Wonder where that poor bastard behind the counter lives? Can he afford Manhattan on his salary? Wonder where all the workers live. Do they commute in from the Bronx just to serve the other half? Same shit wherever you go...And that doorman from Jimmy Choo's, that still gets to me. Was it simply that he was just a huge cat lover? Or had he really understood me? Perhaps that was Morty. What a pleasant thought to think Morty was still alive! - beckoning me back to the Land Of Sir Real. The reality of that dream excites my soul once more...
Jesus! The mysterious thoughts that go through your head when eating alone in a strange city. I forced myself to snap out of it knowing I would scrub my forehead before the return flight. Frankly, I had forgotten about it with the urban nonchalance of the Manhattan mid-towners. Red flags shot up though, as two males gathered noisily at the table behind me. How could the mere act of sitting grate on my nerves?
At this point, I had to believe my mind was a mushroom, putting the world in a dream state. The two who settled in spoke with no shame at the loudness of their voices or the content of their words.
"Looks at this! I can't wait to cut mine off!"
"Me either! The sooner it's gone the better!"
No, Harry, don't do it. Don't be some teenage boy making the oh-so-obvious response. Heck, they could be talking about anything. Maybe they wanted to cut off their alimony payments. You don't always to give in to the impulse of derision. But deep down inside, I really wanted to.
The pair kept talking and damned if it didn't really sound like they wanted to cut off their male members! I knew the reality had to be I was projecting my own immaturity, but finally my curiousity got the best me.
Oh, dear Lord! I whipped my spying eyes back around. That was a "Transgendering For Dummies" book! I'm sitting next to two guys who want to cut their dicks off! No wonder I don't get any reaction with my lame-o magic marker forehead.
And another thing. Those guys looked oddly familiar. I have to sneak another peek.
No! Can't be! It's Zerry and Zhomas! 500 hotels in this city and they gotta pick this one? Get me outta here!
But I didn't get two feet before I was busted. The boys pounced out of their chairs, grinning with self-satisfaction and pointing at me in mock superiority. "Neener-neener! Neener-neener! We're better than you are! We're better than you are!" Then I swear to God they started channeling 1980's Valley Girls. "Like ohmygod! I'm like so totally going to put that on the cover. Barf me out, that is so loserville. We're going to like totally make fun of your grody ass. It's our favorite thing!"
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It was a week later as I strolled the lonely, nighttime streets of Dallas...
"Who am I?"
As a small child, to walk down the alley and beyond the four houses to the end of the block was a mythical journey off the edge of the earth to enter a new land. I was a pioneer walking in uncharted territory. I knew not what I may find - but it could be anything! I craved to seek out life, hungry with curiosity and wide-eyed desire. I knew life. In my many lifetimes I've witnessed miracles the small-minded have yet to even conceive. But it mattered not to me I may be alone in my glorious trek. I'd show them what's what.
Now I live among the mad, the futile, the empty vessels. We define ourselves as chemical entities needing chemical solutions. Yet who considers the chemistry of a hug? There is no true science without love. Love is the only reality. That is proven every day as repressing our love buries us deeper and deeper. And as I ask myself how I got to be the bitter man I am today from the eager child of yore, I know it's from my own self-betrayal.
Somehow, I don't think that gets my name in the Book of Life. I'm tired and ready to leave this bent world forever pushing a square peg into a round hole. I tried confessing my crimes but to no avail. Truth is the first step on the road to salvation. And while a teetering planet may be blind, deaf and dumb, my Maker surely knows the truth of me. So I tried to get the truth out. I just don't know what to do anymore...
"I tried to tell them!" I screamed to the twinkling stars. "I told them the error of my ways and the insanity of my life. Why can I not be free? What in the hell am I supposed to tell them I am??"
From the clear night sky, an understanding voice replied: "Beautiful."
Then I found time for my tears.
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