One of the things I love about living on the East coast is how close everything is to each other. It's like Europe in that way. Drive 2 or 3 hours in any direction in most cases and you will find yourself in a new country or state, depending on continent. For example, this past weekend I was able to hop on a bus to NYC and arrived before lunch. It was fast, affordable, and comfortable. The perfect way to start a weekend in the city that never sleeps.
It was also exciting because this was the first trip to the city with my new camera. I'll be the first to admit I'm still figuring out the settings and how to function with a camera that weighs the same as a small infant, but I think I was able to walk away with some good ones.
The occasion for this trip was to visit my uncle who has recently moved from California to NYC. I could not be happier that I'm no longer alone in the Eastern time zone, and, bonus, I now have someone to stay with/visit while getting my Broadway fix. This blog has never had opportunity to unveil that side of me before, but I am a huge Broadway theater nut; specifically musicals. I grew up on the classics, Rodger and Hammerstein, Cole Porter, Gilbert and Sullivan, spent my school years filling the chorus lines and minor parts of my schools' drama productions, and every year, to this day, I block off my night to watch the Tony Awards with a figurative Do Not Disturb sign on my forehead.
I love the music, I love the songs, I love the dancing, I love the jokes, I love when they make me cry, I love the lights, I love stepping out of my world for two and a half hours to live in a place where people really do breakout into song and where music helps translate the significance in an action or feeling the way words never can. I do love the lines and the lyrics, they too can be irrevocably true, but the level to which a swell of music can just make you feel and know something is true is as close to perfect understanding as I think possible. The escape from needing words to register an idea in the mind of someone and instead push that thought or emotion or choice through to the core so that they can feel it is true because it is sitting square in their chest; spreading from heart to fingertips and toes with the stroke of a bow or the croon of a horn. That, is an incredible feeling, and while imperfectly (and perhaps verbosely) described here, it is one that I will always keep coming back for.
It was a blissful weekend well spent loving every step along the NY streets: passing the crowds waiting at the stage door for Huge Jackman, along the holiday windows on 5th Avenue, and through the maze of subway lines. And there's one thing left to say: Sing it Frankie!
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