The Greatest City
Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Today marks the first day of what I life to refer to as a “Jazz Free” day. It’s my first official day of not dragging my lazy ass out of bed and walking into that uncomfortable, non-ergonomic, stressful and extremely toxic environment that was once my workplace. Although I have so many found memories and plenty of emotional ties there I can’t be happier I don’t have to contend with it on such a beautiful sunny day. I am up and out of bed at 7am though, why I ask myself after turning in at 1:30am the night before. Oh yes I agreed to have breakfast with my friend, coworker and sometimes boss of many years, Mr. Long. I could of course of blown him off if not for the fact that the luvly Lady Z was also to be in attendance. Can’t blow her off, that would be sacrilege (funny how I devalue my long standing male friendships so easily.) Well that being said I received a text from Sam that she was coming as well. Needless to say I could not blow them off, besides we having breakfast at the Pink Tea Cup in the West Village. Nothing says Good Morning better than a “down home” plate of Grits and Biscuits, and a side of butter, honey, some ham and if your lucky some freshly fired chicken. Oh I can feel my arteries slowing down just thinking about it.


Breakfast was awesome, the food good, the company great and the conversation inspiring. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful peeps to hang with. Mr. Long: Always has such great and fanciful stories, Sam: Pleasant and very insightful and the Lady Z: the personification of positivity and grace. After filling our mugs with good eats they were all off to that wonderful place I no longer have an obligation to. I get to attend shows but I no longer make them happen. Well for now anyway.


Instead of heading home, I go for a stroll thru a few of my old hunts from my college days. I take a path from West 4th, pass Washington Square Park, cross Sullivan, up Bleecker and then to Broadway. All the while taking pictures and just scanning the ole hood. It’s still of course early and not much people are about and the stores are just now coming to life.


I of course make my way up to Mecca, which for me is and always will be The Strand Bookstore. My home, when I need inspiration and/or a place to stop and just look. I was able to resist temptation due to my recent employment state and I need to be responsible (like when I bought my camera…right!) So two hours, and 40 books skimmed later. I emerge and decide it’s time to head home and be productive. So I jump the 6 to Grand Central Station.


I get to Grand Central, transfer to the 7 only to find out there is a track fire at Queens borough Plaza and all trains are suspended both ways. “Great now what” ok no worries plan B. Take the Metro Bus. I call all city buses “Metro Bus” after Miami Dade’s own great public transport system. This stems from my High School experience of taking Metro Buses everywhere because my dad would not let me drive the family car. So I have a history with city buses and I don’t like being forced to take them. That being said I bounce along outside of GCS and head for the Q32 bus stop on 5th ave.. No big deal because it’s sunny and hot out. I’m in a blazay mood; thinking about my work situation and pondering not only how to remedy it but how to be happier in my choices.


As I’m waiting for the bus I notice quite a few folks around me are talking about the track fire and how humid it is today. It’s in the high 80’s with an occasional breeze so I’m perfectly comfortable. I look over to my left and there is short woman wearing a black top with black sunglasses. I think she kind of looks like a Jewish Jackie O, as I look away I hear the sound of something hitting the pavement hard behind me. She screams “Omigod” I swivel round to see an elderly woman face down on the sidewalk. As I’m about to move a young man darts over to her and asks if she is ok. I look back at the woman that screams and asked
“What happened was she pushed?”
“No, she sneezed and then just fell over”
I look back over and the man is trying to help her to her feet but she was having a difficult time composing herself. She is very weak and is having trouble breathing. She slowly pushes herself up with one hand while being helped but can’t stand. The woman in black offers to call an ambulance but the lady refuses. As she tries to stand I notice that the left side of her face is dirty from where she hit the pavement. She fell face first and has small gash above her eyebrow. Another lady at the bus stop says “ Don’t ask just call!” that being said a meter maid rushes over and stops the young man from trying to get her erect. She instead tells her to sit down where she fell. This was a better course of action. I noticed that all the while this was going on I was moving closer and running a mental innovatory of what was in my bag. In High School my best friend Ricky and I used to have a competition about who would be the most prepared for emergency situations. At one point I had: a Tourniquet, band-aids, safety pins, antiseptic wipes, and a sewing kit. He trumped me but not only having all that but also having a fishing wire complete with fishing hook (what one would need with that in downtown Miami I don’t know.) Sadly I no longer carry anything of the sort, only thing I had was a small bag of Kleenex tissues which I quickly offered as the gash started to bleed profusely. The old woman seemed confused but awake. In the few minutes it took the meter maid to help her get comfortable almost 6 people including myself were there offering assistance. One lady was offering to call her family; one man stopped and offered a large bottle of water. A lady from the cosmetics store close to where she fell had a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide ready to clean her wound. Another came from across the street with a roll of hand towels. The meter maid called of assistance while everyone was doing there best to be helpful. The entire block seemed ready to do anything for poor lady. After 3 minutes or so a FDNY ambulance drove by on a side street. As it went by various people from the block ran after it trying to get them to turn in our direction. The ambulance slowed down but did not turn, my guess was that they were headed somewhere else. After about 10 minutes or so the old lady was sitting there with the meter maid pressing the collection of hand towels and Kleenex against her head. She had a weak smile and was thanking everyone. She refused to let anyone call her family and seemed to be content on waiting for assistance. I knew there was nothing I could really do but give her air and stay out of the way. My bus showed up and I decided to go. Although in the pit of my gut I wanted to do more. I sat down on the bus and glanced over in her direction as we drove away. Everyone on the block was still vigilant and was patiently waiting to see how this turned out.

My day started out with me reflecting on how much I value my own community of friends. It ended with me valuing an entire block of good Samaritans.