People, the things that HAPPEN when you don't blog for a week!
Like, I found myself with a weekend of nothing to do and decide on a total whim to visit my high school best friend who is now a struggling actress in New York. It turns out she's not so much "struggling" as "doing really well and booking a lot of modeling and commercials," and we spent Saturday night having drinks with the current Broadway cast of Wicked and I found out all sorts of really awesome gossip about current Broadway actors which is of NO interest to nerds but myself, but it was really damn awesome.
Sunday morning we walked/ran an insane sixty-block trail around Riverside Park and Columbia, me constantly pausing to gasp for air as Lakisha zoomed ahead of me with the same ease of movement I display when crossing my apartment floor to pour another glass of cheap red wine. Hey, if my body was a critical component of my livelihood and I didn't have the distraction of a nine-to-five job, I'd be in that good shape, right? Right???
I added up the numbers, and I walked/ran over 250 blocks in 36 hours. Most of it in two-inch heel boots. Luckily, most of it was through scenery so beautiful I didn't notice the vile, throbbing pain south of my ankles. A big chunk of the walking was over the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan at sunset, which is where a lot of the new photos in Flickr are from. Of course, I found out yesterday that because of my dad's illness I have to get an echocardiogram to make sure I don't have an englarged heart too, and by the way, probably shouldn't work out until this procedure. Um, I'll take "things that might have been helpful to know before walking the length of Manhattan" for a thousand, Alex.
As if New York wasn't enough, the bus ride home proved to have its own surprises. I finally had my Before Sunrise experience. Except for, it ended with exchanging phone numbers instead of promising to meet halfway around the world in six months. But real life can never be exactly like the movies, can it?
Oh, and last night I saw Anthony Rapp perform "What You Own" literally three feet in front of my face. And later, emboldended by Chardonnay, approach him to tell him how much I love him and how I enjoyed his work with Interlochen students. I thought about asking him to join me in a rousing chorus of "Sound The Call!" but couldn't qute muster enough nerve.
Sometimes I really wish I could go back in time to assure my 15-year-old self that life would someday be full of fantastically random and delicious moments like sparking with a stranger on a bus and talking for six hours nonstop and getting to tell the father of your favorite songwriter how much his son's music meant to you and watching the sun set over New York as your dad tells you that yes, he is going to be okay and will be around for another thirty or forty years to bug you and sing off-key. If I could have clued her in that life would be full of these, she probably would have been a lot more fun to be around.