No. 223 - Between the Two

I woke up yesterday morning on 46th and Lexington in a studio apartment with little to no hot water. In fact, I brushed my teeth in the shower because brown water sputtered from the faucet.

After a quick shower and shave, I threw on a tie and walked up Park Avenue, through enviable bookends: McKim, Mead & White’s Racquet & Tennis Club to my left and Mies van der Rohe’s Seagram Building to my right.

The air had a bite; the atmosphere impertinent—exactly how I like it. As much as I love blue skies, there’s something romantic about a steely morning in Manhattan.

I hooked a left on 59th, passed the red carpets at The Plaza, and listened to the trees in Central Park rustle. I wish it could’ve lasted forever.

I eventually entered 180 Central Park South, hopped on an elevator, pushed the eleventh-floor button, and met a few buddies for brunch at the New York Athletic Club.

Our table had a terrific view over Central Park: 180 degrees from the Upper West Side to the Upper East Side, a canopy of green stretching 51 blocks between them. We sat above the chaos as a pianist played Clair de Lune by Claude Debussy.

Our plates were stacked with waffles, prime rib, strawberries and cream, and little blocks of French cheese… and that was just the first serving. Black coffee, Bloody Marys, and mineral water fought for the remaining real estate.

The dining room was a sea of navy blazers and ladies in floral and polka dot dresses. I commented to Scottie, “If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was 1940 in here.” I was in clover.

And this morning I woke up in a motel in Austin, staring at a parking lot from the third floor. I threw on a pair of Wranglers, cowboy boots, and a denim shirt. I also got a hot shower—amused that a motel in Texas beat a Manhattan apartment.

I turned on Middle Age Crazy by Jerry Lee Lewis in my rental—a morose country song about a man in a midlife crisis. Damned if he doesn’t sing about trading in his suit for cowboy boots.

I live between the two.

*Composed, Edited, and Published at Whatley Wines in Fredericksburg, TX