Other Stuff: Notes from Abroad from New York

I was in the security line at La Guardia, waiting to go home. A breathless man raced up politely asked to go before us because his plane was boarding. We let him go. He put all his stuff on the conveyor belt and then looked back at the end of the long line. He motioned for the woman there to join him. “Maria….” he said waving her to come. She shook her head. He went through the line and security and presumably to his boarding flight. I looked back and “Maria” was waiting to move forward in line, unconcerned, it seemed to me.

I got through security and the screening and collected my things and moseyed toward my gate. I saw the breathless man in the corridor looking anxiously behind me, for “Maria” who was no where to be seen. I heard him say to himself: “Where are you!? Please don’t be doing this on purpose.”

That stunned me. “Please don’t be doing this on purpose.” What kind of relationship did they have? Did they come together and get separated? She was at the back of the line and he just pleaded his case to move forward because his plane was boarding. But she didn’t follow. Oy.

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At the corner of Fifth Ave. and 46th or 47th, waiting for the light to change, a mother was reprimanding her eight-year-old son. “You will not be disrespectful to your parents. And you should not expect presents when you are disrespectful to either me or your father”.  She looked straight ahead. She was holding his hand but not gripping it. Her hand was bare. His was in a mitt. He looked like he might be about to cry (I tried not to look too hard here) and so he momentarily brought the edge of his toque down over his face to hide any tears. The light changed. The boy moved the toque off his face and walked across Fifth Ave. beside his mother. His head was slightly bowed in repentance. Then I noticed that mother and child were headed for the Reebok store that was loaded with toys. I think the kid won that round.

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I went with friends to the new location of the Bond 45 restaurant after one of our plays. The restaurant used to be on West 45^th Street near where the old Bond store used to be, hence the name, but then had to move because of the endless renovation of the corner of 45^th Street and 7^th Ave.  Bond 45^th is now on 46^th Street.

After we finished discussing the play etc. we got down to serious matters that affect people in my circle: acid reflux. I said how I was popping Tums after a lot of what I eat. I have a lot of acid reflux and occasionally have taken Zantac but forget so I take Tums.  I just feel uncomfortable until I take a Tums and then I’m good to go.  When one needs advice on this and other matters, who comes to the rescue? Exactly, the waiter. Ours overheard me and chimed in that after he had been drinking heavily (!!!!) he took Omeprazole. He said it changed his life. He got it over the counter at Walgreens a huge drug store chain in the States. A friend at the table was familiar with it because it had an ingredient in some medication he took under a doctor’s prescription. Our waiter said that it was fast and, again, would change my life.

I went to Walgreens immediately after dinner – I never eat that late at night, then I will really have ‘backup.’ I bought Omeprazole and just in case, Zantac. I took a Zantac that night for the back up and was fine. I then started the 14 day course of the Omeprazole and after the first day had not one trace of acid reflux. Amazing. One follows the course of taking the tablets for 14 days, and then does not take that stuff again (if needed) for four months. I’ll try and be careful.

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There was a bit of excitement on the way to Walgreens. My friends and I wandered up from 46^th Street to Times Square. It was about 11:30 pm and it was so brightly lit you could do open heart surgery out there. There were several Disney characters in full plush costume there as well. The scam here is that one of the characters goes up to a tourist and offers to take a picture with the person and then the person has to pay for the picture.

About three or four police were arresting Mickey Mouse. They surrounded him and one of them had his notebook out. When Mickey took off his jolly head-covering there was a scared diminutive woman about 70 years old, who only spoke Spanish. It seems that none of the police officers spoke it so communication was difficult. We didn’t know what her crime was. We had all sorts of theories: she was an illegal alien who was just trying to make a living and the cops scoped her out; she was the head of a notorious drug cartel operating out of Times Square; they wanted their picture with her. A mystery.

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