Snow Night
I finished my first paid day in an office in New York today. It was pretty rewarding. No more slinging coffee for me, unless it's my own. That is something I can be really excited about.
After work, though, I found myself outside in Midtown Manhattan in a downpour of snowfall. I was taken aback, and my immediate instinct was to take pictures of it anyway I could to capture the beauty of it all. The pure clean white snow fell to the backdrop of the magnificent Chrysler building, with cars and buses whizzing by in the puddles before me. The only thing I had with me at the time capable of taking photos was my cell phone, so it goes without saying that the pictures were not of the greatest quality.
But the memory of tonight will stay with me for other reasons. I could not spurn myself to get on the Subway and head home for a night of lonely television or reading. Instead I through myself headfirst into the nature of the beast and just stood and walked around in the snow, many times with my mouth gaping wide open at just how beautiful it was. I continued to take more pictures and video with my phone as I slowly traversed along 42nd Street past Grand Central Terminal, the Manhattan Public Library, and into Bryant Park.
The snow get coming down, kept piling up. I refused to wear my hat and gloves so I could be fully immersed in the weather, and soak in as much as possible. The snow began to form a small drift atop my buzz-cut hair, and collected in the cracks of my backpack. My feet were sliding around on the wet and slippery cement.
Despite the conditions, all the New Yorkers around me kept moving at break-neck speed. They don't even have enough time to appreciate nature, I thought. I don't know how anybody could move in a situation like today. It was just too amazing a sight to ignore. It inspired me.
Of course, I thought, the only way to make this night even more perfect would be to add one particular element. One more item would make such a scene the most perfect thing in the world. Such a perfect complement to the evening could not really be described in words. But if I managed to pull it off would be a sweet glorious victory in the face of adversity and a crowning achievement. I knew how to get the thing that I wanted. But I was worried. I had pursued such desire in the past and had not quite succeeded yet. I knew what it felt like to be left empty-handed. I did not want that again.
I walked for hours pondering this. I examined my possibilities, weighed my pros and cons, counted my money, and continued to walk aimlessly, getting pelted minute after minute by fresh wet snow.
I eventually came to the decision that, if fate was with me, I would get what I wanted. And the companionship of something so perfect, so wonderful, so endearing was worth the risk it took in getting it. The object of my affection is so beautiful, pure as the snow itself, and I could not think of it in a better place than beside me surrounded by the snow and skyscrapers on this most scenic of evenings.
***********************************************************
I can honestly say that I saw the two most beautiful things that night I've seen since I came to New York. The second was the snowfall. The first I saw later...
...When I arrived home that night, I took off my wet shoes, my coat, and put my book bag down. After close inspection, I realized that even after spending hours walking around in the wet snow, after trudging around numerous blocks, up and down streets, through the Subway, and all the way home, my khaki pants were as clean as they were the second I left the office. My pants were as clear and off-white as the first time I put them on, without a spot of dirt or wetness on them.
I don't know how I did it.
A miracle?
Perhaps.
Sometimes clean pants are all we are looking for. Sometimes it's more. I was completely satisfied before I discovered how clean my pants were. This night could not have worked out better.
After work, though, I found myself outside in Midtown Manhattan in a downpour of snowfall. I was taken aback, and my immediate instinct was to take pictures of it anyway I could to capture the beauty of it all. The pure clean white snow fell to the backdrop of the magnificent Chrysler building, with cars and buses whizzing by in the puddles before me. The only thing I had with me at the time capable of taking photos was my cell phone, so it goes without saying that the pictures were not of the greatest quality.
But the memory of tonight will stay with me for other reasons. I could not spurn myself to get on the Subway and head home for a night of lonely television or reading. Instead I through myself headfirst into the nature of the beast and just stood and walked around in the snow, many times with my mouth gaping wide open at just how beautiful it was. I continued to take more pictures and video with my phone as I slowly traversed along 42nd Street past Grand Central Terminal, the Manhattan Public Library, and into Bryant Park.
The snow get coming down, kept piling up. I refused to wear my hat and gloves so I could be fully immersed in the weather, and soak in as much as possible. The snow began to form a small drift atop my buzz-cut hair, and collected in the cracks of my backpack. My feet were sliding around on the wet and slippery cement.
Despite the conditions, all the New Yorkers around me kept moving at break-neck speed. They don't even have enough time to appreciate nature, I thought. I don't know how anybody could move in a situation like today. It was just too amazing a sight to ignore. It inspired me.
Of course, I thought, the only way to make this night even more perfect would be to add one particular element. One more item would make such a scene the most perfect thing in the world. Such a perfect complement to the evening could not really be described in words. But if I managed to pull it off would be a sweet glorious victory in the face of adversity and a crowning achievement. I knew how to get the thing that I wanted. But I was worried. I had pursued such desire in the past and had not quite succeeded yet. I knew what it felt like to be left empty-handed. I did not want that again.
I walked for hours pondering this. I examined my possibilities, weighed my pros and cons, counted my money, and continued to walk aimlessly, getting pelted minute after minute by fresh wet snow.
I eventually came to the decision that, if fate was with me, I would get what I wanted. And the companionship of something so perfect, so wonderful, so endearing was worth the risk it took in getting it. The object of my affection is so beautiful, pure as the snow itself, and I could not think of it in a better place than beside me surrounded by the snow and skyscrapers on this most scenic of evenings.
***********************************************************
I can honestly say that I saw the two most beautiful things that night I've seen since I came to New York. The second was the snowfall. The first I saw later...
...When I arrived home that night, I took off my wet shoes, my coat, and put my book bag down. After close inspection, I realized that even after spending hours walking around in the wet snow, after trudging around numerous blocks, up and down streets, through the Subway, and all the way home, my khaki pants were as clean as they were the second I left the office. My pants were as clear and off-white as the first time I put them on, without a spot of dirt or wetness on them.
I don't know how I did it.
A miracle?
Perhaps.
Sometimes clean pants are all we are looking for. Sometimes it's more. I was completely satisfied before I discovered how clean my pants were. This night could not have worked out better.
posted by Leland J. Fischer at 12:08 AM
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