We left out for 5th Avenue some time in the 7 o'clock hour and it was neat to see NYC as people were scurrying off to work. Lots of businesspeople in a hurry moving about with their briefcases and palm pilots shuffling through the city. I was grateful: a) not to be at work myself and b) to be in a different setting other than the normal in-the-car-fighting-morning-traffic situation. It was nice to be out and about on foot, as much as I love driving. As we were walking along, some homeless guy was trying to get our attention and he would make up little impromptu slam poems as people walked by. He said something to my friend like, "Do you have any spare change for me this morning? Anything at all?" And she said, "No, sorry, I got nothing for you." He looks at me and (this is relevant to the tale) I was wearing a white shirt. He screams out, "LADY IN WHITE: HELP THE HOMELESS TONIGHT!" It was so loud and so unexpected that I nearly fell out on the sidewalk laughing. Even the hobo himself laughed at his own quip. It was hilarious. So that expression became part of our summation of NYC: Lady in white, help the homeless tonight. Even though he uttered this phrase at like 7:30 in the morning . . .
We get to B&N and find, thankfully, there aren't many people ahead of us in line. I was worried that we might get there and find an already packed throng but we didn't. My mom teased me before we left about the episode of Frasier where his fans attempt to hold a protest and no one comes, leading the reporters to say, "What if someone held a rally and nobody came?" I told her, "As popular as Roger still is and as loyal a fan base as he has, I don't see that happening. To know him is to love him." And I was right. As we were waiting in line, we got some mad people-watching time. All manner of peeps coming by. Hooker-esque women, fat people of both sexes wearing clothes that did not cover their skin properly, a man who thought he was Simon Le Bon, a HOT Jewish dude (reminiscent of the hot Jewish man we saw in LA who was smoking a cig in athletic shorts outside his synagogue) with beautiful blue eyes to whom I sang "Slow Down" by Bobby Valentino, random old people, lots of people with little dogs in dog clothing, etc. I noticed the guy ahead of me in line had gone in the store and bought 10,000 copies of Roger's book. I don't know why exactly but something just told me I should talk to him. So I look at him and say, "Damn. Did you leave any books in the store for the other customers today or did you get them all?" And I winked to make sure he understood it was a playful barb rather than an asshole comment. And that just started it off. I made a friend for life in that moment. I have often said that people of like mind will find each other even if it takes a while. I've been through this experience in every class I've ever taken and every job I've ever worked. Eventually, you find others who look at life in a way similar to you. And it's brilliant when it happens. His name is Hal and he's a retired artist/illustrator whose hobby is autograph-hounding. Man, Hal had stories for days and a great sense of humor to match. I will just give a separate paragraph here for words of wisdom from Hal:
"Life is a party and you make your own rules."
"You can't listen to what other people tell you if you wanna do something. I don't even listen to my wife and I love her and been married to her for years. So I say to people, If I don't listen to her, what makes you think I'm gonna listen to you? And I just go for it."
"You know me, I had to try. You always gotta try."
"Let me go call the Dragon Lady and check in with her and then I'll be back."
"He's not gonna hit you. I mean, the worst anybody can do to you is say 'no.'"
"I look at it like this: when I meet a celebrity I say to myself, I ain't goin' to lunch with ya, I ain't goin' to bed with ya, so if you're rude to me what do I care? Forget about you."
"Don't blink. 'Cause it'll all be over so fast that you don't wanna miss any of it."
"I don't wanna go to a show and come out cryin' or see some drama. I wanna come out laughin', hummin', singin' or chucklin'. Maybe not all four at the same time, I'd settle for just one. But I don't wanna see someone cryin'. I don't wanna pay $164 to see someone else's problems when I got my own for nothin', you know what I mean?"
"You girls would really like Hairspray."
"Trump is great. If he don't have a pen in his pocket to sign an autograph, he only has to put his hand in the air and a pen magically appears. He travels with two guys, a bodyguard and a driver, and these guys are so big they're larger than my refrigerator at home."
When asked to pose with us for a photo: "It would be my ho-nor."
We also struck up a conversation with the guy behind us in line but I am not even sure how to go there at this moment in time. He was a nice guy but it seemed like he's been watching too much of The Pick-Up Artist because a lot of what was coming out of his mouth sounded like stuff Margaret and I had already heard from Mystery. Uggh. More about that later.
So Roger arrives and the process of meeting him was great. Hal was right: don't blink. Try to savor every moment of it when you are lucky enough someday to meet your idol. Because it will go by so fast. Five minutes will feel like five seconds. But Roger was great, a real doll. I told him that we'd flown all the way from Tulsa and planned a vacation around his meet-and-greet and he was stunned. He says, "Oh my God, you're joking? For me?" Umm, YEAH. It was totally worth it, too. I get to look at this photo Margaret took for the rest of my life and when I am feeling shitty, I get to remember: I made my idol smile. Who cares what other people think when they want to piss on my parade.
After RGM's event, we went to Planet Hollywood at the behest of the man who was in line behind us. When I went to the bathroom, which is RANDOMLY attended by someone whose only job is to squirt soap on your hands, the attendant was on one but good about George W. Bush. It's like, Yes we all think he's an idiot but I don't want you screaming it at me while I'm trying to piss in the toilet. Honestly. I tossed a dollar in her basket and ran.
Later that night, we roamed around the city a bit more and we went to PJ Clarke's, a pub where Sinatra used to go, which was pretty cool. The place was packed but there were some hot dudes in the house so it was all good. I played "Luck Be a Lady" on the jukebox and crooned it out my own way. We also ended up by Grand Central Station and it was neat to see that part of NYC. As we were getting ready to go back to the hotel, a cab full of men stopped and shouted out to me, "We are in Room 312 at the Hyatt, please come see us." I laughed. I told Margaret, "I got mad game in this city!" It was crazy like that though. Apparently, the men of NYC are much more equipped to handle a vivacious, bold, brassy broad than the Midwesterners around here. Damn. If I ever need a self-confidence boost again, NYC is the place I'll go. I was treated like a goddess there. And it was great!
Part 6: Friday overnight
I do believe we watched VH1 re-runs all night. I felt a little nauseated while I was in the bed and I totally fucked up because a preview for Real Chance of Love came on and I erupted into riotous laughter, which did not help my stomach. It was the commercial where Chance talks about making the women clean up crap and he goes, "Well, not our crap, the barnyard animal crap" and it cracked me up hard. I finally calmed down enough to sleep and we were both grateful that our flight was in the afternoon and at last, we could SLEEP.
