(Once More With) Fluffy Feelings

Day 3.

Monday was a special day. I look back on it with an odd fondness possibly because of the way it is book ended with Buffy.

It had a slow start. The only thing planned was to go to an Ethiopian restaurant in the evening as our farewell to Heather. We knew that everyone was going to come to the apartment after the meal so we had to tidy. The sofa bed had to be put to rights, cushions needed to be placed on chairs… actually it sounds like very little had to be done but I am certain it was a more daunting task at the time.

Amy was in our room only to be drawn downstairs by the siren call of “Once More With Feeling”. We tidied singing along to “Going Through The Motions”. It gave me pleasure to see her watch us with a (baffled) smile on her face. Plus of course it was great to do. I am a terrible singer but it feels so good especially with a group of people who are just lost in the moment of sharing.

Moments like these made us the Harlem Seven rather than just any old group of people: sharing songs, jokes, the time of our lives. The sun was shining (once more with feeling) and the park beckoned. As one creature, we left the apartment skipping (probably literally knowing us) down the street to the subway. In fact, so well in tune to each other were we that we came colour-coordinated that day in red and green. Through instinct we sat on the subway train with reds on one side and the greens on the other. Q hummed the Star Trek fight music before realising that she was on the doomed red-shirt side.

Finally our vision of a picnic in Central Park was realised. We had a short wander around the west side of the park and then got some lunch from Whole Foods thanks to a recommendation (and directions) from Amy’s guide book. Seven people shopping with no plan is something that has to be seen to be believed. Some items were put into the trolley (I mean, “cart”) without debate but others were put in and then sneakily removed. In the end though, we managed to get to the till and through the doors, laden with goodies.

We walked back into the park and settled on a small rise near one of the roads that runs through it. No cars used it except a couple of taxis; it was mainly for the horse and carts that serviced the area. We sat in the sun and ate our sumptuous food… the French bread and ham and hummus and tomatoes and… actually my memory fails me as it really only recalls the strawberries and chocolate brownies with any clarity. Delicious.

Amy dozed a while. Sus acted like she was six. I basked in happiness. The time was golden but uncompromisingly moving on.

With optimism in the air, we skipped down to the Staten Island Ferry (actually this time I can say with certainty that there was no skipping, just a lengthy time on the subway, reds facing greens). Having been on the ferry to Liberty Island before, I tempted people to take the Staten Island ferry instead by informing them that it was free and didn’t require booking. That was pretty easy. We had fifteen minutes to wait for the next ferry and then the doors opened and we were privileged to see a master at beating the crowds aside as biped somehow made it far ahead of the rest of us. Fortunately her pink rucksack was a great beacon to follow and we made it to some good seats on the starboard side of the boat.

The view of Manhattan as we pulled away on the ferry caused a flurry of photographs as did the approaching Statue of Liberty. Then the focus of attention was on my wind-swept hair, bizarrely. There was a “Rescue Me” moment at the skyline and an “Angel” moment at Ellis Island but on the whole the moments were created on the boat in the usual way: by prodding each other and giggling.

Staten Island was fascinating. We could have spent hours there but chose not to over-excite ourselves. On the return trip, I spent a humorous amount of time communicating mainly via text with Charity and Heather to find an Ethiopian restaurant. It would have been so much easier had I just given them each other’s phone numbers but like an imbecile I thought “surely this will be the last text message” each time only to find that another was necessary a few minutes later. Eventually we managed to get the address of a restaurant recommended by Heather (or was it her local friend?) and we decided to meet there at 7pm.

I hate phones. I will take much joy in destroying the sim card when I leave the states. In fact, I could wreak vengeance on the phone already as I have a spare.

We disembarked and went up to 42nd Street yet again. Being incredibly well-organised people (please bow down in awe of us) we bought our bus tickets for Boston at Port Authority. Then I got back to my favourite hobby of texting so we could meet Rian and Paul at their hotel (in Times Square) before finding dinner. Meanwhile, there was shopping at the touristy shops there and a trip to Best Buy for dvd fixes.

We invaded the “W” where Rian and Paul were staying. The air was scented. What kind of hotel has scented air? The kind that was more spa than hotel I guess. Water ran over the glass ceiling! The lobby was a work of art. Low tables and seating with large lantern-type lighting and er… pots of grass growing everywhere.

Rian glided through the lobby in her element. Paul had a flannel shirt and jeans. What a couple.

Amy and I secretly snacked on strawberries as we hopped uptown and waited outside the restaurant- the restaurant that didn’t exist. Though we had the address correct, there was no sign of the Ethiopian. We were soon joined by Charity who was unsurprised at this development as they didn’t answer her call for reservations. Dana, Lars and Heather arrived and we tried to make other plans, complicated slightly by Heather’s friend who was meant to join us but arrived at the spot before she did, saw the ten of us and scarpered. As any sane man would. Fortunately, making new plans was facilitated by the amazing Charity who came armed with a back-up plan.

Heather stayed at the meeting spot to meet up with her friend (who returned eventually so obviously wasn’t too shocked by the people he had seen) while the rest of us hopped on the train to go a bit more uptown. It is possibly worth noting at this point that this was where I exchanged some words with Lars and discovered a fun and witty mind (though the words that lead me to this discovery are forgotten now- we were arguing over how to optimise our route to the restaurant which you would have thought would not lead to much witty banter but somehow I got a taste of it). Heather and friend actually beat us to the back-up restaurant as they took a taxi. We were seated at two tables of seven. Again we split: adults and children. We pleaded for people to mingle more but were brutally ignored by all but Rian who hesitated before sheepishly ducking under the protective wing of her husband (sorry for the menagerie of creatures in that sentence).

Rather pathetically, the waitress failed to give us the drinks menu but eventually we managed to get an order in. I had a glass of honey wine (surely that is more commonly called mead?) which apparently was a typical accompaniment to an Ethiopian meal. The meal itself was interesting and dare I say it even good? It was certainly food I could imagine eating more of. Refreshingly different, slightly spicy and pretty varied as we had a few different dishes served on the same large plate. Plus, it was fun to eat using the flat pancake-like bread.

It was a good meal. I couldn’t follow much of the conversation when it got onto fanfic and slash, but I had Amy for entertainment in those moments.

After the meal, we declared our intent to have everyone back at the apartment (minus Heather’s friend who, it seemed, decided we were crazy after all and left early). Conveniently, a “liquor store” was across the road. It was a cold night and I hugged Amy for warmth, a hug that grew more popular and soon most of us were in a huddle while we waited for people to buy their poison. It was a nice moment, with Amy on one side and Dana on the other and everyone else similarly entangled.

Amy and I warmed ourselves up back at the apartment with some tea while Em played bartender to everyone else. The single shot glass saw a lot of use that night. Em also demonstrated how shaking a bowl of M&Ms immediately makes them irresistible to Rian after she turned down a non-shaken bowl. Conversation started about the board. We offered up a toast to all Hobblings and compared notes on who had the lowest post-count. Obviously Paul had never posted. Lars revealed himself to post as Yephoe, a name I recognised but never knew to be him.

I do not know how it happened, but someone put “Once More With Feeling” back on over the television speakers. There was singing. Dancing. And it ended on a kiss, of course, between the Buffy of Q and the Spike of Em. I apologise to those that watched in shock. Needless to say, no one out of the “adults” took us up on any more invitations to spend evenings at the apartment.