I sit in the park, warm and still, indulging in my free afternoon. Book in hand, I melt into the midday sunlight and the rush of the fountain’s white noise. Peace. Recharging. Then, drums. A bass and a melody. Frankly, my immediate reaction was, “How rude. I was just starting to enjoy the silence”. As I searched for the source of this nuisance, I found a third member of their entourage. A dancer. Great. As she swayed her body, loosely and free, all I could think of was the embarrassment. How could she do this? Why would she do this? I tried to sink back into my serenity, but the constant rumble and roar of their beat wouldn’t let me focus. The next time I looked, still annoyed, the dancer was no longer alone. A few observers advanced to performers joining her carefree rhythm. Then a few more joined in, and a few more. The crowd grew as well, as this impromptu performance shared the gazes and respect of a planned show. As I sat on my little bench, wondering how this has happened. it finally struck me that I live in New York. All at once, I fell into a well of emotions. I couldn’t catch my breath, there were tears in my eyes, and my leg began to uncontrollably quiver. I was there, living and feeling the moment with all the others. It was impossible to be alone, and in that instant, that was beautiful.
Oh, then I saw Alec Baldwin among the crowd. I wonder if he was thinking the same thing.