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Monday, December 27, 2010

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Part 18 Enter the 9th Circle

The taxi races through several red lights on its way across town. My hand is wrapped through the strap attached to the top of the door and every now and then, I become slightly airborne when he hits corners.  I’m not sure the driver knows that I was not just in danger when I yelled at him to drive.  “Good god, what a night!” I think to myself.  How do I process any of it or make any sense out of what I just went through?  It was a total freak show, a truly wonderful freak show, but still a crazy whacked out nonstop freak show.  I really have so much to think about, before I go back.  Can I do it again?  “Boy was that place crazy,” I say to the driver.  He looks at me in the rearview mirror and nods his head.  I can tell he doesn’t understand a word I am saying.  Now don’t get me wrong, I loved every crazy minute of it and will be counting the moments until I get to go back.  Well, that also has a lot to do with Bob.
The cab pulls up outside of my apartment and screeches to a halt.  I hand the money to the driver over the front seat and slide out. The place I am staying at this month is at the only high rise located on Astor Place in the village.  It is very clear that I probably don’t have the income to stay in a building like this.  My friend Susan is working out her inheritance and is in LA and so I am staying at her place paying a low rent and taking care of her two cats, one of them being a 14 year old Siamese. 
I have asked a friend to stay in my apartment.  The apartment is the amazing carriage house located on 13st between 6th and 7th.  Actually, it is now a sublet of a sublet, but he seems happy with the arrangement.  I know that it sounds confusing but in New York everyone seems to have a special deal worked out.
Every time I walked into the lobby of the Astor Place building, the guys who sit at the front desk ask me who I am here to see.  It gets really tiresome, really fast and they seem to enjoy it.  Tonight something new, the lone doorman asks me for id as well. I have repeatedly told him that I am living in Susan’s apartment while she deals with a death and is out of town.  I know that it’s a lie. I know that she is in LA drinking and having a party and calls me slurring twice a week but I figure I shouldn’t share that part of the story with him.
I take the elevator up the 12 floors and step into the hallway.  It’s a quick 3 steps to the apartment.  I fumble in my bag, pull out the key’s, turn the lock and step in.  The apartment is dark but slightly illuminated by the light in the boa constrictor’s tank.  Her name is Jasmine and she is my baby.  I look at her, she is 3 feet long and tonight has her head tucked into the folds of her body. She is fast asleep.  I have had her since she was a baby and surprised at how affectionate she actually is.
I throw the keys onto the counter and they scatter to the floor.  I am too tired to bend over and pick them up.
The view from the living room is breath taking.  The apartment has floor to ceiling windows.  New York is beautiful and tonight I can add dangerous and scary to that list.
I pull off my clothes and climb the ladder to the loft.  Once up there, I have to crawl on my hands and knees to get to the bed.  My head hits the pillow and I don’t wake up until the alarm sounds.
Being jerked awake, I sit up quick in bed; the ceiling is directly 2 inches from my head.  I am always careful not to smash my head on the ceiling.  I am so groggy, I feel as if I never went to sleep. “What a crazy night” I say out loud to myself.  I go through it all in my head.

I have a busy day ahead of me and I go through a mental list of what I have to do today before I have to work at Uncle Charlie’s tonight.  My agent got me a go-see today at 1pm.  A Japanese company is looking for American models to star in their ad campaign.  I have to call him to double check that its still on.  I have a little bit of time before I have to be there, so I should make the call in the next hour. I also have a couple dance classes and a musical theatre audition.  Ahhhhhh, I feel a day of rejection coming my way.  I crawl out of bed and crawl across the floor on my hands and knees to get to the ladder.  Once I there, I have to turn around to go feet first down the ladder.  The same windows that gave me such a beautiful view last night gives my neighbors and the people of NYC the view of my legs kicking while hanging over the side of the loft.  I try to get my legs on the rungs. The people of NYC also get a good view of my underwear.  It is a skill I am learning.  You sort of have to kick your feet out in the air and grab the top of the ladder.  It is taking me awhile to perfect this technique.
I reach the ground floor safely and the cats are racing around to get feed.  I have brought my two and now there is a total of four needing my attention.  The poor Siamese is sitting on the couch crying.  I go over to her and pick her up.  It’s then that I realize that she has pissed on the couch and has been laying in her own filth.  “Why is everyone around me laying in their own piss lately?” I say out loud to no one.  “God damn it,” I scream frustrated.  Now, I have a huge chore to do before I can even get out of the house.
Jasmine is awake and pushing against the top of her tank with her nose.  A thin screen held in place with clamps stops her from wandering around the house.  She has gotten out on several occasions; this makes the cats very nervous.
I make a mental note to myself.  “Got to go to Petland and buy a rat. It’s time to feed Jasmine.”
To be continued………..

Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writting "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.

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