City Slickers

Hello World, Well, there are those lucky few out there (in the federal government, for instance) who enjoyed a long holiday weekend, in honor of Veterans Day last Saturday, but for most of us, that relic of the past is now a holiday more honored in the breach, as it were, and it was business as usual on Friday, alas. (That is, unless you wanted to do any banking, because it seems that banks nowadays will close at the drop of the proverbial hat, so to speak, while the rest of us working stiffs are dragging ourselves off to our jobs, as long as it doesn't involve any financial transactions that we normally would expect to take care of on the average workday.) But the important thing is to recognize the sacrifices of our selfless veterans throughout history, and appreciate all that they have done to protect the citizenry from the earliest days of bows and arrows, to the most modern times of satellites and robots, and everything in between, believe me. And let’s face it, when it comes to working on a day that used to be widely observed as a holiday, I believe it was the legendary Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman of Civil War fame, who wisely commented: “War is heck,” and he wasn't far off the mark, that’s for sure. Meanwhile on the local scene, Bill and I got our fill of live music recently, and lived to tell the tale, which is always my favorite way to go. The day began inauspiciously with bracing cold, high winds, and pelting rain, but luckily conditions had improved considerably by the time we boarded our train around 6:00 PM and headed to the city with the rest of the tourists at that hour. Once we reached the fabled Grand Central Terminal, we ambled over to Central Market for dinner, where we had been once before and found it much to our liking. Now I'm thinking that we must have had something different to eat previously, because this time around our meal of grilled cheese and French fries seemed pedestrian and mediocre, and would not motivate us to try the same place again – especially considering the wealth of food options in the lower concourse now. Another surprising feature of the train station was the prevalence of panhandlers (both inside and out on the sidewalks around the building) who the transit workers used to shoo out of the place like houseflies, but apparently not any longer. Frankly, many of us would not consider this any sort of an improvement, and I ought to know. Thus fortified, we steeled ourselves for the usual harrowing taxi ride downtown, complete with screeching tires and honking horns, and (by virtue of nothing else except a benevolent providence and divine intervention, no doubt) to say that we arrived unscathed and without incident only goes to prove that the Age of Miracles has not passed, indeed. We were dropped off (wobbly but still in one piece) in plenty of time to see Alex Wong and Megan Slankard together in concert at Rockwood Music Hall in the Lower East Side, and prepared to make the best of it, come what may. Alert readers may recall some of our previous visits to this venue, with long waits on scraggly lines outside the building, freezing our tootsies out on the cold hard pavement, and nowhere to sit down, once we did get inside, thanks not. This time around, it was much improved, as they let us right in to the building as soon as we got there, even though the previous performance wasn't finished yet, oddly enough. Then we providentially met someone we know from other shows we've been to, and he rather peremptorily snagged some seats for us in the cozy (one hesitates to say, cramped) chamber, so that we didn't even have to stand the entire time, and thanks ever so. In one corner, there is a tiny bar, and the floor sports a smattering of even tinier tables – and in fact, if you've ever enjoyed a Thanksgiving dinner with the family at your grandparents’ house, this entire performance space would easily fit in their dining room. For this particular stage (Rockwood has 3 separate stages) they let everyone in at no charge, but there’s a 2-drink minimum, so it pretty much amounts to being the same thing overall. It must be said that in a place that size, obviously, there are no bad seats, and thanks to our table-grabbing colleague, we found ourselves positioned directly in front of the performers, so that if either one of them accidentally lost their balance, they basically would have landed smack-dab right in our laps – and not to mention, covered with ginger ale besides. It was a interesting show for lovers of indie music, and now thanks to novel funding sources like Patreon, these artists can have the opportunity to pursue their artistic ambitions, rather than starving in squalid garrets somewhere. Bill naturally brought some vegan dog treats for Alex’s renowned canine companion, Char the Wonder Pooch - and who I'm sure would have been enthusiastically welcomed at the show, except for the fact that they would have probably had to remove about 6 tables and a dozen chairs to squeeze him in there, I shouldn't wonder. In any case, we thought it was nice music (if a little too loud for our tastes) and a good time was had by all, so that was the key thing. It was all over by 9:00 PM, and we used the new taxi hailing app on Bill's phone to bring a cab right to our veritable doorstep (which was technically in front of a deli around the corner) for the trip back to Grand Central once again. In a rare case of perfect timing, we were able to get right on the train in the terminal, rather than lounging around killing time waiting for it, and we pulled up at home when it was still before 11:00 PM, and we were still awake, alert, and on our feet, remarkably enough. Let's face it, for some of us self-proclaimed geezers, going out to see live music down in the big city on a weeknight, that's what we would have to consider pretty hard core, which only goes to prove that we've still got it. We just can't remember where we put it, alas. Elle