Public Apology
A fellow blogger's recent post reminded me of an all too important thought that I often forget. And while I have no idea what "adagio" is, it was a nice reminder to slow down my roll and take in more of the moment. So with that, I'd like to make a public apology.
If you've ever done the touristy thing at The Empire State Building, you know that this is one of the biggest cluster-fuck operations you could ever experience in this great, wealthy, educated nation of ours. You need to wait in line, just to wait in line to purchase a ticket. And God forbid you should complicate the matter by asking a question. And when only one elevator is working, it's no surprise that the anxiety of waiting in line boils through your GI tract, the product of which would make even your dad dizzy and confused. Yes, that smell in front of the ticket counter that made your nose run for the hills, that was me.
And when you finally do get to the one working elevator and on up to the 80th floor, you're shuttled off to yet another 30 minute line. Just to catch another elevator for the last six floors. At this point, you've been in some kind of line for about 4 hours. And then they have the balls to try and trap you for a picture with an u-g-l-y cardboard backdrop of the building. And when you finally fucking get to the last elevator, of which, only one of six is working, you're stampeded off into a mass of people who are either trying to work their way back down, are shopping, or are trying to fight their way outside to the balcony. Of which, is bumper to bumper with foreigners snapping pictures. Albeit of absolutely beautiful scenery.
And THEN, you need to stand in line, which wraps around all four sides of the building, just to catch the elevator back down to the 80th floor. So now, you've spent about 6 hours standing in line. Only to find that the elevators are not working, they send everyone down the stairs. However, like a long night of pounding White Castles, the system gets backed up as a result of a tourist group from India, or Pakistan or something, who get utterly and completely confused as to why they're being told to go down the stairs. About 60 seconds of them yabbering back and forth in one of the most annoying languages I've ever heard, and refusing to go through the doorway while being yelled at by the poor kids controlling the line, my lack of patience belts out a, "Fucking Indians!" And before I know it, my brain catches up and I realize how frustrated both of us are at the stupidity of someone resistant to follow the crowd, or instructions, and our sense of urgency to just get the hell out of there and back into the high-pace way of life down on the street.
So with that, if you are reading this and you're one of those unbelievably retarded lipshits that yibber-yabbered your high tonal native tongue at the frustration and confusion of having to walk down 6 flights of stairs, in our ears, the entire time we waited in line for the elevator back down, and during the elevator ride, I apologize. I am sorry I blurted out such a comment. As fucking funny as I thought, and still think, it was, I was wrong to say such a thing. I should have reflected back on the time Smiles and I had as we walked around the balcony, cherishing the nightly lights of such a beautiful city, kissing, and dry-humping each other's leg like a horny male puppy at each of the four corners of The Empire State Building. Enjoying the moment for what it was and not worrying about the hundreds of thousands of people that surrounded us.
If you've ever done the touristy thing at The Empire State Building, you know that this is one of the biggest cluster-fuck operations you could ever experience in this great, wealthy, educated nation of ours. You need to wait in line, just to wait in line to purchase a ticket. And God forbid you should complicate the matter by asking a question. And when only one elevator is working, it's no surprise that the anxiety of waiting in line boils through your GI tract, the product of which would make even your dad dizzy and confused. Yes, that smell in front of the ticket counter that made your nose run for the hills, that was me.
And when you finally do get to the one working elevator and on up to the 80th floor, you're shuttled off to yet another 30 minute line. Just to catch another elevator for the last six floors. At this point, you've been in some kind of line for about 4 hours. And then they have the balls to try and trap you for a picture with an u-g-l-y cardboard backdrop of the building. And when you finally fucking get to the last elevator, of which, only one of six is working, you're stampeded off into a mass of people who are either trying to work their way back down, are shopping, or are trying to fight their way outside to the balcony. Of which, is bumper to bumper with foreigners snapping pictures. Albeit of absolutely beautiful scenery.
And THEN, you need to stand in line, which wraps around all four sides of the building, just to catch the elevator back down to the 80th floor. So now, you've spent about 6 hours standing in line. Only to find that the elevators are not working, they send everyone down the stairs. However, like a long night of pounding White Castles, the system gets backed up as a result of a tourist group from India, or Pakistan or something, who get utterly and completely confused as to why they're being told to go down the stairs. About 60 seconds of them yabbering back and forth in one of the most annoying languages I've ever heard, and refusing to go through the doorway while being yelled at by the poor kids controlling the line, my lack of patience belts out a, "Fucking Indians!" And before I know it, my brain catches up and I realize how frustrated both of us are at the stupidity of someone resistant to follow the crowd, or instructions, and our sense of urgency to just get the hell out of there and back into the high-pace way of life down on the street.
So with that, if you are reading this and you're one of those unbelievably retarded lipshits that yibber-yabbered your high tonal native tongue at the frustration and confusion of having to walk down 6 flights of stairs, in our ears, the entire time we waited in line for the elevator back down, and during the elevator ride, I apologize. I am sorry I blurted out such a comment. As fucking funny as I thought, and still think, it was, I was wrong to say such a thing. I should have reflected back on the time Smiles and I had as we walked around the balcony, cherishing the nightly lights of such a beautiful city, kissing, and dry-humping each other's leg like a horny male puppy at each of the four corners of The Empire State Building. Enjoying the moment for what it was and not worrying about the hundreds of thousands of people that surrounded us.
