The Big Apple

The big apple took a bite out of me.

I'd traveled to the east coast to work with colleagues in the New York office, with a little extra time to indulge in some cultural treats. Plays! Concerts! Museums!

It seemed there was a big fuss over a little bit of weather, but apparently it was the first snowfall of the season.

Alas, after just three days a winter virus had thoroughly colonized my body. I lost my voice (which, in some minds, was a net positive). I kept working, because ... that's why I was there.

I did enjoy New York City Ballet's Nutcracker, which I had never seen. Unlike San Francisco Ballet's version, the part of Marie was danced by one young girl throughout the performance. The theatre was unfamiliar to me, even though the first ballet I'd seen was in New York (more than 30 years ago).

Working from another office generally means the day stretches long as I follow much of my normal schedule with a now-shifted timezone. Most evenings I only had the energy to drag myself back to my hotel room, but I did manage to connect with one good friend for dinner.

I scaled back my dream of seeing two plays on Saturday, deciding that I had just about enough stamina for a matinee and a pilgrimage to Rockefeller Center.

Note to self: Check out the tree on a weeknight, not on the first Saturday after they've lit it up. Bodies were packed so tightly that you had no choice but to swim with the crowd, kind of like body-surfing an ocean wave.

Oklahoma! was my first choice, and the cast was good even though several key roles were not played by the primary cast members. [So, no, I did not get to see the Tony winner sing the part of Ado Annie.] The music is so stunningly beautiful that I fought back tears as soon as it began. I didn't find Ado Annie or the peddler convincing, but the other leads were: Cocky, conceited Curly; conflicted Laurie; and a truly menacing, sociopathic Jud. This production struck deeper for me, emotionally, than the sunny movie version.

Sunday's journey home would begin with a subway ride, to catch a train, then a monorail, to the airport. With completely random timing, I hurried down the steps when I saw a subway train still boarding. And ... what to my wondering eyes did appear, but a vintage historical train—something that they roll a few times during the holidays. I slipped into car 484, built in 1932 and restored to period glory (the year 1946), complete with advertisements of the time. A memorable finale for this visit!