January 23, 2009
Home waters
…listen
…about the musicA view from lane 4.
It’s always striking when I leave the island I live on that dangles off the West coast, and spend time on the island that I was born and raised on, floating off the East coast. The latter is half the size of the former, but… well… only in terms of square miles. As for infrastructure, population, and 24/7 access to pizza slices that drip with a mysterious orange oil found nowhere else on the planet: fuggedaboutit.
Adding to the contrast are trips like this last one, in which I stay for several days right in the heart of Times Square. I think scientists should use me as a lab rat and examine my feeble brain as it attempts to instantly adjust from gazing up at a wide open sky beating down on green space and cute furry animals, to, hours later, gazing up from the bottom of a steel-lined abyss so tightly canyoned that it changes the weather system. Seriously: my room was on the 35th floor. One morning it was snowing ardently outside my window, and the impressive view across the Boeing jet fuselage-infused Hudson River to New Jersey was thwarted by whiteout blizzard conditions. But when I got downstairs to the street, it was merely a light dusting. Snowflakes are no match for this town, baby.
It’s indeed a miracle, what happened on the Hudson that day when the captain pretended he was piloting a little 7-seat seaplane and glided gracefully down onto, rather than into, the frigid water. I happened to be hurling myself through the air on a similar aircraft when all this was occurring. I must say, there’s nothing like watching a potential commercial airliner disaster as it unfolds live on CNN, from the comfort of a commercial airliner. Maybe they should rethink those nifty TV sets in front of all our seats…
In a week I’ll head back to yet another long-time home: Los Angeles. I’d like to avoid a water landing if at all possible, but if it must occur I’d appreciate it if the pilot could plop down somewhere close to Malibu’s Paradise Cove, so I can get a nice view of my old ‘hood.
Meanwhile, I’m very happy for my pong to have pinged me here in the San Juans once again. Above is a snapshot of what it looked like yesterday at 10:30 a.m. in Anacortes, as I waited to board the ferry. At about 11,000 feet, Mt. Baker is my kind of skyscraper, and having spent so much time in the air recently, I wasn’t all that unhappy to be viewing it from sea level– on asphalt.
Glenn Buttkus said,
January 23, 2009 @ 6:51 am
For you, traveling lady, haunter of both coasts, it’s welcome home, a fast wave, a quick hug, and bon voyage. Next to you a blur has clarity. DreamVista@1:32 was the cream in my coffee this morning; made me tap my foot, and be impatient that it is still too dark outside for me to see my lord of the ring of fire, Rainier. Your music made me soar over and check out Mt. Baker, at its puny 11,000 foot precipice.
Life imitating life, with some art thrown in, man, the thought and imagery of you in the air watching the “Miracle on the Hudson”, fuggedaboutit indeed. Every time you visit Manhattan, your observations are always so thorough, so wonderful, most of us will never have to travel to the Big Apple to taste its crunch, to share in its awe, it yaw, its warp and weave; Alex is the guide, so listen up kephistos.
And next week California, just in time for the monsoons, the mudslides, the deep brownish-blue inverstion layers, the hum and pop of the beautiful people staying busy, filling the scene with push-up bras, fish net stockings, new hairdo’s, animal furs, solar panels, legions of Lexus, the odd Rolls, 50 kinds of sunglasses, some that wrap around the face like a welder’s shield, endeavoring to keep the sun’s radiation at nose length; LA, now Latin America, the pueblo of angels, both of them. Paradise Cove, perhaps yes, Century City, hell no.
We will all breathe more calmly, and deeper knowing you are amongst us for the next few days, surveying the scene from your island fortress somewhere beyond the reaches of America and the clutches of those who would covet what you possess.
Glenn
Lane Savant said,
January 23, 2009 @ 9:13 am
Well, San Juan Air’s planes have pontoons and are adapted to an environment where the only flat place to landis the water.
Nice to have you back again.
Lane Savant said,
January 23, 2009 @ 9:15 am
P.S
And have a nice trip.
Mike Wills said,
January 26, 2009 @ 8:44 am
I remember getting pizza on Long Island fourty years ago dripping with olive oil, sometimes so hot it burns your tongue. It is a short trip from Manahattan and another world.