Nurse the Hate: Travels To New York

I used to travel to New York over the holidays to see the Miller side of the family.  These were great trips as my Aunt Rose and Uncle Jack were two really funny quirky people that traveled extensively.  My Uncle Jack had a brutal dry wit, and Aunt Rose was like a movie character.  They had interesting shit to say.  It was a loss to me personally when they died.  I especially miss them around the holidays as all of the extended Millers would pound a million beers and laugh it up over at their house on Xmas Eve.  There were many really good times I wish I could have shared with some people that timing did not allow to attend.  Oh well, that’s the way things shake out.  You play the hand you are dealt.

The added bonus of this trip was to work in a couple days in “The City”, a.k.a. Manhattan.  I had a roommate from college that lived in White Plains, and like anyone from the Greater New York Area that now lives in Ohio claimed he was from New York City.  Please note that nine times out of ten if you press someone that says they are from New York about where exactly they live, the answer will almost always turn out to be Jersey.  “Yeah, it’s like a 25 minute drive into The City, so it’s pretty much New York.”   

No, it’s not.  It’s New Jersey. 

That being said, I had a couple really good times running around the East Village with him including one memorable time where we found ourselves surrounded by models at the Pyramid Club as the club held their annual transvestite Christmas Pageant.  Absolutely stunning women at least four inches taller than me glided about the room with that practiced look of boredom only New York models can truly pull off.  And no, they weren’t transvestites too.  These were women you see in modeling in Vogue Magazine that have almost nothing in common appearance wise with anyone you have ever seen before.  It’s like they came from another planet. 

If you want to confirm your place on the social ladder, try engaging a model in conversation at a bar.  I was in my early twenties with almost nothing going on.  The scent of failure on me was like I was doused with Old Spice.  They knew it.  Hell, I knew it.  I stood against a wall with my $7.00 beer and bad clothes watching these statuesque creatures walk around whom were pretending not to notice transvestites dressed like Biblical women singing Christmas songs.  It was a real scene.

This guy was a good guy to live with if you had to share a room with someone.  He was always up for placing himself into a ridiculous situation and had almost no filter.  I remember one time when I was sleeping in my top bunk.  It was really late, around 3:30 am.  Something woke me up.  You ever wake up and know something is weird but you are not sure what it is?  I laid there and stared straight up at the ceiling when I finally figured out the bed was rocking slightly like it was on water.  I rolled over to the right and looked down into the lower bunk.  I saw my roommate thrusting himself into Becky From The Second Floor.  Becky and I made eye contact.  “What’s up Becky?”  My roommate made a grunt as he “completed”, and I started laughing.  What a bleak atmosphere.  It must have been a pretty romantic experience for a young lady.  I went back to sleep.  Becky and I always pretended it never happened when we would see each other around town.  My guess is she hasn’t shared that story with whatever man she is currently in residence with and I would not blame her.    

The interesting thing about this guy is he could be literally doing anything right now.  I would be equally unsurprised if I could track him down to discover he was a tightrope walker in Budapest or an airline mechanic in Hartford.  That’s really the issue in trying to re-connect.  If you do a web search he could just as easily be the “surf instructor Waikiki” or “business insurance account executive Ft Worth”.  I haven’t a clue, and frankly I don’t have the energy to try and write out seventy emails asking strangers “Are you the guy that lived with Greg Miller, lit himself on fire at a party, was featured on MTV Spring Break coverage, and had coitus with Becky From The Second Floor in your lower bunk?  If so, what up?”  I’ll either come back in contact or I won’t.  That ship has sailed. 

As I enter this New Year on track with my goals I set a couple months back, I hope I remember how thin the lines are that connect people to each other.  God knows the world is filled with enough boring people.  It takes a little effort to stay in touch with the small number of interesting ones.  You have no idea how small changes in circumstance can remove people from your life completely.  Suddenly six months go by and you realize, “Man, I haven’t talked to Jim in awhile…”  

Let’s stay in touch this year.