Very interesting weekend, webfriends. I flew home to Pittsburgh on Saturday in anticipation of my parents' 51st anniversary dinner. Gavan had been feeling as unwell as I had been in the preceding week, so I decided to make my visit a surprise for him as well, hoping to cheer him up. I walked in the back door and found him in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher. He was surprised to say the least. And he got really skinny! He's been dieting and doing the SlimFast routine for the last couple of weeks, and it's finally beginning to show. The poor guy was starving, not having had his "sensible meal" for the day, so I treated him to dinner at La Tavola Italiano, our favorite restaurant.
So Saturday evening was nice. Sunday, Gavan and I just hung out. I think there's something bothering Gavan - maybe too much pressure at work between the office and being in Tommy - but being Gavan, he doesn't talk about the things that are bothering him. Least of all with me. Even when it's me that's the problem. Gavan tends to turn inward when he's upset, so I just have to wait until he's ready to talk about it.
Early Monday I had dinner with my pal Jeff Bergman, which was a LOT of fun. There's never enough time to spend in Jeff's company. Afterward I walked over to Duquesne University to pick up a copy of the script for The Seagull. That was an adventure! I walked from Pittsburgh's South Side, across the 10th Street Bridge and up the set of steps to The Bluff, the promontory on which the University sits. I'd thought I'd gotten into reasonable shape from two-months worth of hiking and biking all over Philadelphia, but apparently you use different muscles walking up stairs than you do walking on flat surfaces. I was a wreck by the time I got to the top of the Bluff. Then I spent a ½ hour wandering the campus, trying to find the building which houses Pittsburgh Irish & Classical Theatre's offices. It all turned out in the end, and I survived. I'm (physically, mentally, and emotionally) stronger for it.
Monday night was the anniversary dinner, which was great. It was really nice to see my mom & dad, who looked very well, by the way. Five months in San Diego agreed with them. After the dinner, I went to my dear friend Patti Kelly's house. She had a couple of people over, including Ron Seibert & Cary Spear, who've been gracious enough to let me stay in their apartment here in NYC. That picture to the right is an awful shot of Patti & Cary that I had from way back when I was doing The Colonel Bird at the Playhouse in Pittsburgh. I'm guessing sometime in October of Y2K. It really doesn't do them justice. I was still trying to figure out how to use my camera without the flash (since I firmly believe that everyone looks better in natural light), but I hadn't, at that point - or this one for that matter, managed to get the swing of flashless photography. Doug Rees also came over to join us, and the five of us sat on Patti's upper deck and just chatted the evening away while enjoying the nice weather.
Today turned out to be a really, really weird day. Gavan got up and left for work without ever saying goodbye. I woke up, hurriedly packed, and jumped into Patti's car when she arrived to ferry me to the airport (thank you, Patti!!!).
You know how in the movies, people have premonitions about getting on a plane? They get really bad feelings, then get off the plane (or refuse to get on it in the first place), and then the plane crashes? Well, I had one of those feelings as I settled into my seat on the plane. Which is really weird, since I'm such a lover of flying. I think part of what made me nervous was that this mid-day flight to New York City from USAirways' hub in Pittsburgh was mostly empty. I was keenly aware of having read somewhere (and I may just be imagining this) that planes that crash are rarely full... as if people sort of have an intuitive knowledge of which ones to stay away from.
Well, I'm usually a rational person, and though I'm not one to discount six and seventh senses mostly because I think there are a lot of things in the world I don't understand and never will, I rationalized myself into staying on the plane. Clearly, since I'm sitting here writing this a full day later, the plane didn't crash - but that doesn't mean it wasn't one of the weirdest-ass flights I've ever taken.
It started off with an announcement from the cockpit telling us that we should expect turbulence climbing out of Pittsburgh and landing in New York, at La Guardia. In an effort, I think, to quickly get above the cloud cover and away from the turbulence, the pilot took our plane up at one of the sharpest angles at which I've ever flown. I couldn't have possibly been, but it felt like we were ascending at a 45° angle. And boy, was there turbulence. It didn't do much for my Final Destination feeling of doom.
But, oh, dear friends, it didn't end there. I happened to be seated in the second-to-the-last row of this mostly empty airplane - not too far from the lavatory, and soon after the plane took to the air, I began to smell this smell pervasive odor of , well, feces. I assumed that it was the lavatory emitting its foul odors at me, and I was just getting ready to ask the flight attendant if I could move further forward to an empty seat, she came staggering back and and paused near my seat, exhaling as though she'd just passed the length of the cabin holding her breath. She quickly apologized and then explained she had indeed been holding her breath because the man sitting two rows in front of me had soiled himself and was pretty much sitting in his own crap. The smell had enveloped the whole cabin. There was no escaping it.
And as if that weren't enough, we still had the landing at La Guardia to deal with. The landing wasn't so bad. It was the approach that sucked. While we were still about ten minutes out and descending toward the city, we hit turbulence again, this time dropping ten and twenty feet at a time. Once we got through that, the landing was actually pretty damn cool!
I had never actually flown into New York City before. I've always driven it. The plane's approach to La Guardia brought us in from the south west, and since I was sitting in the left side of the plane, I got the most amazing view of the Statue of Liberty, and then downtown and mid-town Manhattan from above. It's a really amazing and beautiful city from above, and from the air you get a real idea of just how many people are crowded onto the island of Manhattan. One by one, all the famous landmarks scrolled by below me; the World Trade Center, the Empire State Building, Central Park - a vast island of green on the greater island of concrete. Northeast along the East River we flew, and the entirety of this magnificent city was laid out beneath me. I couldn't help but have a stupid grin on my face, all the while I silently berated myself for not hauling out my digital camera, which was nesting in my carry-on.
Eventually, we swung further east and looped around to approach the airport from the north. I've heard many people talk about the landings at La Guardia, but this was the first time I've experienced it for myself. I can't tell you how unnerving, exciting, and beautiful it was to descend over the water, watching it come closer and closer, thinking there's no way that the plane can make landfall before hitting the water, and then watching the runway appear under the aircraft at the last minute, seemingly only feet below the landing gear. I've never, ever been so grateful to get back onto land.
So that's my grand adventure in the air. I'm looking forward to being back in Manhattan and settling in for a while. My money is tight now, so I don't think I'm gonna be able to do any more trips to Pittsburgh before I go back for The Seagull.
On the night I got back, there was a beautiful light slanting across Manhattan at sunset, so I snapped a picture looking from my balcony toward mid-town. Click on the little thumbnail to the left and it'll open the much bigger version... You'll notice the cables dangling from the building near the balcony; I have no idea what they're for, but in the last couple of days, workmen have been setting up scaffolding and cables along the side of the building. Looks like some sorta big project is about to commence. I'll let you know once I figure it out.
So Saturday evening was nice. Sunday, Gavan and I just hung out. I think there's something bothering Gavan - maybe too much pressure at work between the office and being in Tommy - but being Gavan, he doesn't talk about the things that are bothering him. Least of all with me. Even when it's me that's the problem. Gavan tends to turn inward when he's upset, so I just have to wait until he's ready to talk about it.
Early Monday I had dinner with my pal Jeff Bergman, which was a LOT of fun. There's never enough time to spend in Jeff's company. Afterward I walked over to Duquesne University to pick up a copy of the script for The Seagull. That was an adventure! I walked from Pittsburgh's South Side, across the 10th Street Bridge and up the set of steps to The Bluff, the promontory on which the University sits. I'd thought I'd gotten into reasonable shape from two-months worth of hiking and biking all over Philadelphia, but apparently you use different muscles walking up stairs than you do walking on flat surfaces. I was a wreck by the time I got to the top of the Bluff. Then I spent a ½ hour wandering the campus, trying to find the building which houses Pittsburgh Irish & Classical Theatre's offices. It all turned out in the end, and I survived. I'm (physically, mentally, and emotionally) stronger for it.
Monday night was the anniversary dinner, which was great. It was really nice to see my mom & dad, who looked very well, by the way. Five months in San Diego agreed with them. After the dinner, I went to my dear friend Patti Kelly's house. She had a couple of people over, including Ron Seibert & Cary Spear, who've been gracious enough to let me stay in their apartment here in NYC. That picture to the right is an awful shot of Patti & Cary that I had from way back when I was doing The Colonel Bird at the Playhouse in Pittsburgh. I'm guessing sometime in October of Y2K. It really doesn't do them justice. I was still trying to figure out how to use my camera without the flash (since I firmly believe that everyone looks better in natural light), but I hadn't, at that point - or this one for that matter, managed to get the swing of flashless photography. Doug Rees also came over to join us, and the five of us sat on Patti's upper deck and just chatted the evening away while enjoying the nice weather.Today turned out to be a really, really weird day. Gavan got up and left for work without ever saying goodbye. I woke up, hurriedly packed, and jumped into Patti's car when she arrived to ferry me to the airport (thank you, Patti!!!).
You know how in the movies, people have premonitions about getting on a plane? They get really bad feelings, then get off the plane (or refuse to get on it in the first place), and then the plane crashes? Well, I had one of those feelings as I settled into my seat on the plane. Which is really weird, since I'm such a lover of flying. I think part of what made me nervous was that this mid-day flight to New York City from USAirways' hub in Pittsburgh was mostly empty. I was keenly aware of having read somewhere (and I may just be imagining this) that planes that crash are rarely full... as if people sort of have an intuitive knowledge of which ones to stay away from.
Well, I'm usually a rational person, and though I'm not one to discount six and seventh senses mostly because I think there are a lot of things in the world I don't understand and never will, I rationalized myself into staying on the plane. Clearly, since I'm sitting here writing this a full day later, the plane didn't crash - but that doesn't mean it wasn't one of the weirdest-ass flights I've ever taken.
It started off with an announcement from the cockpit telling us that we should expect turbulence climbing out of Pittsburgh and landing in New York, at La Guardia. In an effort, I think, to quickly get above the cloud cover and away from the turbulence, the pilot took our plane up at one of the sharpest angles at which I've ever flown. I couldn't have possibly been, but it felt like we were ascending at a 45° angle. And boy, was there turbulence. It didn't do much for my Final Destination feeling of doom.
But, oh, dear friends, it didn't end there. I happened to be seated in the second-to-the-last row of this mostly empty airplane - not too far from the lavatory, and soon after the plane took to the air, I began to smell this smell pervasive odor of , well, feces. I assumed that it was the lavatory emitting its foul odors at me, and I was just getting ready to ask the flight attendant if I could move further forward to an empty seat, she came staggering back and and paused near my seat, exhaling as though she'd just passed the length of the cabin holding her breath. She quickly apologized and then explained she had indeed been holding her breath because the man sitting two rows in front of me had soiled himself and was pretty much sitting in his own crap. The smell had enveloped the whole cabin. There was no escaping it.
And as if that weren't enough, we still had the landing at La Guardia to deal with. The landing wasn't so bad. It was the approach that sucked. While we were still about ten minutes out and descending toward the city, we hit turbulence again, this time dropping ten and twenty feet at a time. Once we got through that, the landing was actually pretty damn cool!
I had never actually flown into New York City before. I've always driven it. The plane's approach to La Guardia brought us in from the south west, and since I was sitting in the left side of the plane, I got the most amazing view of the Statue of Liberty, and then downtown and mid-town Manhattan from above. It's a really amazing and beautiful city from above, and from the air you get a real idea of just how many people are crowded onto the island of Manhattan. One by one, all the famous landmarks scrolled by below me; the World Trade Center, the Empire State Building, Central Park - a vast island of green on the greater island of concrete. Northeast along the East River we flew, and the entirety of this magnificent city was laid out beneath me. I couldn't help but have a stupid grin on my face, all the while I silently berated myself for not hauling out my digital camera, which was nesting in my carry-on.
Eventually, we swung further east and looped around to approach the airport from the north. I've heard many people talk about the landings at La Guardia, but this was the first time I've experienced it for myself. I can't tell you how unnerving, exciting, and beautiful it was to descend over the water, watching it come closer and closer, thinking there's no way that the plane can make landfall before hitting the water, and then watching the runway appear under the aircraft at the last minute, seemingly only feet below the landing gear. I've never, ever been so grateful to get back onto land.
So that's my grand adventure in the air. I'm looking forward to being back in Manhattan and settling in for a while. My money is tight now, so I don't think I'm gonna be able to do any more trips to Pittsburgh before I go back for The Seagull.
On the night I got back, there was a beautiful light slanting across Manhattan at sunset, so I snapped a picture looking from my balcony toward mid-town. Click on the little thumbnail to the left and it'll open the much bigger version... You'll notice the cables dangling from the building near the balcony; I have no idea what they're for, but in the last couple of days, workmen have been setting up scaffolding and cables along the side of the building. Looks like some sorta big project is about to commence. I'll let you know once I figure it out.
No comments:
Post a Comment