Monday 28 November 2022

New York City really has it all

As the executor, lawyers and real-estate people left my late parents-in-law apartment, I locked the door after them and ran into the bedroom. I slid open the wardrobe door and beheld my father-in-law's suits. Yes. There it is - the one that caught my eye. Double-breasted, just half a shade of gray lighter than regular, made a whole lot of difference. I tried it on... long in the leg, a bit tight in the shoulder and baggy round the middle... Nice cloth though. Impeccable. Pockets - empty... but, hey! there's another inside pocket, zippered, and inside it... - a slim billfold! Twenties and tens! Time to celebrate.

This is a real swank place downtown - shame it's got to be sold. Such a shame. I can see our future here. I'm admiring the furniture, the bathroom, the view...

I come across an electric iron and my mother-in-law's old sewing box, and so I tuck in the trouser cuffs, iron a crease into them and hold the turn-up with a few pins - just a temporary shortening before taking these to an alteration tailor. I looked in the full-length mirror, yeah, looks OK. I choose a silk tie, cerise in color, and step outside, take the elevator down to the street. The concierge at the front desk gives me a knowing look - bet he's seen the old man wearing this suit before - it catches the eye. 

I head along the sidewalk towards Lower Manhattan. It's a warm Friday afternoon in spring, the Stock Exchange, just a few blocks away, will be closing for business. It's time for some dinner, a grill, steak. A drink or two. There hadn't been time for lunch. As I approach Wall Street, I'm looking at the traffic. Hey - a Rolls-Royce! From England! My eyes follow its progress. Now that's elegance there among the Plymouths and Oldsmobiles and Fords. A news stand. England, eh? I see a pink newspaper standing out from all the others. I buy a copy of yesterday's Financial Times, flown in from London, which I fold up and put under my arm. As I glance down, I notice my shoes are scuffed - they don't go with the suit. Ruin the effect for anyone who'd notice. Shoeshine boys are always around when you don't need them but today - ah, there's one across the street, corner of Broadway and Pine - I take a seat, put my feet up, unfurl my paper and read.

Well - that's interesting ... a piece about the Growing Importance of Leisure ... my father-in-law was telling me about this before they passed. I cast my eye down the boards, which stocks are up, which are down; only a few familiar corporations, all these English firms I don't know, roll my tongue around their quaint-sounding names... Reminded me of my visits over there with the Air Force, and later on a sales visit, demonstrating reconnaissance cameras at the big air show. Shoes done. Not perfect, but then they're not new, but much better than before. Another quarter well spent.

By now, a stream of people is flowing out of the Stock Exchange building. A  fleet of four gray sedans pull up outside - government automobiles, I'd guess... I turn left and merge into the growing tide of humanity leaving their offices. Up a ramp and through the revolving doors, into the lobby of the _____ Hotel. I walk into the bar, take a seat at the last empty table and open my paper again. A waiter comes up, I order a large, very dry, dry martini. It arrives. Yes. Icy and strong. I glance at the menu. Two guys come up an ask if the remaining seats are vacant. "Help yourselves!" 

"I see you're following the English stock market - how are things over there?" "Leisure." I replied. "That's the growth category. People with more time and more money than ever before," I said, repeating what I'd just read. Waiter came over again. One guy ordered a Michelob, the other a Rolling Rock. I ordered a steak, fillet stake, medium rare, with fries, spinach and baked tomatoes. "Oh, and a beer - make it a Rolling Rock. Reminds me of Kentucky."

"Let me introduce myself," said the guy who'd ordered the Michelob. "Henry Bettendorf Jnr," he said, passing me a business card. "From the Buckeye State." His associate did likewise, shaking my hand. "Look - I wasn't intending to engage in commerce this evening..." I mumbled, reaching into the suit's inside pocket, I fished out a my father-in-law's business card that I'd found along with the billfold. "This belonged to my late father-in-law," I said, just showing it to them close-up, but not giving it up. "I'm taking over the business now." They both looked at me, slightly perplexed, looked at each other, looked back at me -

"RRDANK!" What was that sound? "RDANK!" A sudden metallic noise. Jolted. I'm looking around the restaurant... I wake up. It's gone. It's 7:15 am. Monday November 28, 2022. Jakubowizna, Poland. The radiator in my bedroom makes that sound as its steel casing expands, shortly after switching itself on or off. I am annoyed, not least because I really wanted to find out more - how would this dream conclude? It's one of those 'three-unity' dreams, where time, place and action are all consistent; New York City, spring, 1956 or '57? Who had been my parents-in-law? How had they died? Who had I been?

This time last year:
Where the two contracts end

This time last year:
In praise of the Nikon D3500
[The best value-for-money digital single-lens reflex camera ever]

This time three years ago:
Agnieszka Holland's Mr Jones reviewed

This time four years ago:
The Earth is flat

This time five years ago:
50th Anniversary of the Fiat 125p

This time six years ago:
Fidel Castro's death divides the world

This time seven years ago:
London to Edinburgh by night bus

This time nine year ago:
The Regent's Canal, London

This time 11 years ago:
An end to the entitlement way of thinking

This time 12 year:
West Ealing - drab and sad end of town

This time 13 years ago:
To Poznań by train

This time 15 years ago:
Late autumn drive-time 

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