Third person practice… it’s me!

She took a walk in Manhattan today.

This December marks the thirteenth anniversary of her love affair with New York City. Never in her wildest dreams did she expect to be here this long, but “that’s life,” as Mr. Sinatra likes to remind everyone. NYC isn’t like any other place, and today’s walk brought back some absolutely wonderful memories… memories of a wonderful thirteen years.

She started on Fulton Street with full view of the Freedom Tower and then headed north leaving behind the old Dance Notation Bureau that used to hide within the confines of Wall Street and Lower Manhattan. Looking down at the sidewalk, she noticed how the grey of her sneakers matched whatever color one might use to describe the cement, like a dark grey spattered with BLM street art. The fall air was crisp and tasted delightful. On her right, the old dance studio that used to be known as Dance New Amsterdam, or DNA, now commonly known as Gibney Dance, still stood hidden behind a Modell’s Sporting Goods. The last time she was there was with her friend Carolyn to take a modern/contemporary class. She missed dancing.

She smiled as she passed the old dance haunt… not that you would be able to tell behind her mask. As her journey continued, she passed a family of five walking the neighborhood, which included mom (plus one), dad, soon to be big sister, and their dog. The mother-to-be called out to a road worker who had wished them good morning, “Today’s my due date. We are trying to get him out!” The woman wished them well as she passed.

On the right again, she saw another studio that she remembered frequenting. The sign for the Battery Dance Company shown in its brightest of blues, and right behind it the behemoth of stairs that lead to the space loomed. She couldn’t remember the last time she climbed them. She wondered if there were dancers in the studio now in the middle of a pandemic?

Broadway and Canal Street brought back so many memories! Two of her tattoos came from the studio with the unsuspecting black stairwell. One tattoo with her mother (her mother’s first one) and the other with her nursing school besties. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if her favorite pho shop would be open in Chinatown, but continued walking for fear that it would be shut down, a thought that would have lead to heartbreak. The men and women of Chinatown called out to her “purses, handbags, shoes, watches,” but she continued on her trek north.

The Simon and Garfunkel song “Bleecker Street” always plays in her head as she walks down the street for which the song earned its name and fame, and a smile came to the woman’s face as she remembered the aroma of $1 pizza from a few streets over as well as the old record store further west on the block. She remembered the first time she bought records there. The man who took her money was stone faced until he saw her collection, and then let go of a brilliant smile. Apparently, the woman was judged on her musical choices that day. She recollected the numerous times she walked her small friend who she used to nanny to school down Bleecker Street, with or without a stroller… in the sunshine and in the rain.

Oh the old yoga studio where she used to clean yoga mats for three hours a week in order to practice yoga whenever she pleased! The tiny room where the mats hung to dry was when she found out that she had passed her nursing boards. They also held community yoga classes that she would go to a lot. One time her friend Carolyn almost got them in trouble for giggling during class. That was when they stopped putting their mats together. Her friend Erin would always point out the numerous chatarungas (yoga term for push-ups). Just one street from the studio is where the fearless leader of their dance company lived. Was there anything better than rehearsal followed by a beer on the roof?

Just two blocks north, the old NYU Tisch building was another old haunt for company dance rehearsal. The building is so close to Washington Square Park, where so many memories from her dancing days to nursing school lived. The man who used to play piano always made for the most beautiful reason to sit down or the dog parks would provide a happy respite between stressful classes during nursing school. Josie Woods Bar lay off the northeast corder of the park and was a favorite haunt of their’s when post-exam cheesy fries and beers were a necessity.

She looked toward Astor Place to see if anyone was pushing the big black cube statue around in a circle, but oddly, there was nobody moving it. Perhaps the students in session at NYU were busy in class at the moment.

Her walk continued past East 8th Street where the large theatre that her nursing school didactic lectures were held in. A group of approximately 400 people would make their way into that space for a three hour class… definitely something not happening at the moment. The wind picked up a little bit, but it felt nice as the sun beams were warming up her muscles. The Halloween store, the Strand bookshop and the Regal movie theatre all held memories for her as she progressed onward to Union Square. Gosh, could she quantify how many hours were spent in Union Square? It would be impossible.

The woman finished her tea as she passed the road to go to a fancy tea shop that she loved to visit. You needed a reservation! The sandwiches definitely had the crusts cut off them, the tea was steeped in boiling hot water for the correct amount of time, and the decor felt like something straight out of Alice and Wonderland. “Was it still there?” the woman wondered.

At some point, the woman wasn’t sure when, Broadway had turned into Park Ave. It had to have been by Union Square as the streets tend to weave in and out of each other. She passed the Sign Language Center where she attended weekly class for a while. The Bread and Butter shop looked abandon, but the woman couldn’t tell if it was permanently closed or just too early.

As she came upon Grand Central Station, she danced with two construction workers listening to some salsa. People like to say that New Yorkers are harsh and not approachable, and yes, that is sometimes true, but not always. They waved goodbye to each other as she made her way to Lexington to continue her travels north to her final destination. She debated walking to First Avenue to see if her favorite ramen spot was open yet, but instead she walked into the underground subway entrance feeling thoroughly happy with her walk that day.