A Laugh in the End

Coaxing myself out of bed yesterday morning was only slightly less difficult than the wading through clay mud. I can’t seem to shake the west coast timing. Perhaps I simply haven’t been trying hard enough.
Eventually forcing myself to face the drizzle and gray of the first truly rainy day here brought back the expected doubts and frustrations of this unavoidably heavy season. I knew it was coming and still I felt as if I were clad in soaking layers of dirty cotton balls. Despite my efforts to the contrary I sank into a somber state not unlike slipping down the wet trunk of an unfriendly climbing tree.

Most of the morning was passed in conversation with various Portland friends along with a good amount of reading and contemplation. Thought after thought carried a certain sense of sobriety and eventually I found myself looking for a reason, any motivation to leave the apartment even if only for a brief spell.

Finally breaking from my cemented position on the cushions of the living room’s solitary easy chair, I dressed and walked to the Porto Rico Roasting Company in search of fresh coffee beans. Choosing a half pound of something unfamiliar with a name that included the word “peaberry”, I stopped into a small grocery store on the way back home to purchase half and half.
It’s silly how seeing a dairy brand from my old home town could temper my coffee with the irreversible flavor of doubt. But by the time I poured the second cup I was feeling a resurgence of confidence nearly as stimulating as the caffeine I so blithely imbibed.

“This is all going to take some time,” I told myself, “Just give yourself a few weeks before tugging at the rug beneath your own feet.”

As if on cue, my phone buzzed with the notification that I had received a fresh batch of electronic mail. Checking impulsively I was elated to find a message from the head of HR at the Manhattan Ace Hotel. Ryann (for that is her name) wrote to inform me that she was very much looking forward to meeting with me and wanted very much to seek out a position for me at the local extension of the Portland-based chain.

Work was beginning to seem more immediately likely.

Following Ryann’s message was a note from Alana informing me that her boss had been given two reserved tickets to that evening’s Upright Citizens Brigade Comedy Show and would not be able to attend. Asking if I’d like them Alana encouraged me to invite someone to go and enjoy a few laughs on a Monday night.
I sorted through my (incredibly short) list of local friends and thought I’d see if Todd might like to go for a round of rousing one-liners.
Following a brief conversation with him wherein he confirmed that yes, he would be my plus one, I replied to Alana’s e-mail saying that I would love to accept the invitation and requested the details.

The show didn’t begin until 11:00 so I spent the last couple of hours before I would need to leave straightening the kitchen and Drew’s bedroom all the while focusing once again on my need to give myself a bit of patient leeway with regard to getting my occupational side satisfied.

Todd and I had agreed to meet at 10:15 in order that we be sure to get decent seats inside the small venue. It was approximately 9:40 and I was amping up my confidences: tonight would be my first attempt at solving the riddle that is the Manhattan Subway System.

I walked to the appropriate cross streets and descended the stairs to the pallid tiles of the dank station. I’ll admit I was unsure of exactly what I might encounter but I felt that no amount of procrastination would quiet my trepidations surrounding this new city’s mass transit. So I dove in head first.
Purchasing my Metrocard went smoothly enough (aside from the first machine refusing to accept my cash which prompted me to use my card at the second) and while I missed my first train I chalked it up to learning. One doesn’t make connections standing on the wrong side of the tracks.

By the time I disembarked and resurfaced at street level it was still 20 minutes prior to Todd’s and my agreed upon meeting time so I located a pizzeria where I could grab some affordable and greasily satisfying victuals.

Tossing my oil-stained paper plate into the public trash can once I finished scarfing down the melting cheese and crispy dough I noticed Todd strolling up the block in my direction and I greeted him with a hug and sincerest gratitude for accompanying me on this late night excursion into the world of stand up vulgarity.

We waited in line for our seats and proceeded to enjoy a number of comical narrators recounting anecdotes upon anecdote about everything from sex education, sexual positions, and sex involving animals in Ireland. I have to say I found the rare jokes not circulating around copulation quite a lot funnier than the tried-and-true salaciousness.

Perhaps I’m just a prude.
(Yes, even I’m laughing at that notion.)

After the show Todd and I walked a ways before ducking into Cooper’s Tavern to have a night cap. Whiskey in hand, we spoke of our reasons for having come to New York and I feel we were both afforded a little better idea of the motivations essential to our ultimate ideas of full life and genuinely satisfying success.

Pulling the last drops of Knob from my ice-filled tumbler I reflected on the similar evenings in the recent weeks leading up to my departure spent with all of the friends I knew so well and how even with all of that cultured familiarity we still found novel elements of each other. Like watching a movie for the fourth time and still noticing things you never saw before.

Todd and I said good night and he asked that I fill him in on the following day’s meetings and conquests. I promised that I would and wished him luck in being alert for his morning class. And with that we went our separate ways. I boarded the subway for the second time that night and happened to step out a stop too early. Still invigorated from the stimulating evening I elected to walk the rest of the way home thinking it would be a good exercise in familiarizing myself with that portion of the concrete jungle.

The cool night air whipped into cruel daggers as the wind surprised my skin with sharp reports of icy mayhem. And still I smiled to myself. Another day of this place being my home meant I had unconsciously gained just that much more membership, that much more belonging.

And even when a person belongs somewhere they still need time to accept it.