Skip to main content

Just Do It

 

As our train pulled into Philadelphia, I saw rhinos at the zoo next door before we slid in the dark station. The minutes dragged on and on as they switched out engines. Waiting for a doctor in an emergency room took less time. I rocked in my unforgiving seat and, for the first time, thought about abandoning my mission to conquer New York.

 

After finally leaving Philly, our frequency of stops increased in familiar-sounding towns: Bryn Mawr, Princeton, Trenton, Newark.

 

I knew we entered the zone when a trio of teen girls bopped into the car, giggling and talking excitedly about their upcoming night in the city. Shit just got real. My low-grade nausea detonated into chest-pounding fear. I kept watching out the window, searching for more signs.

 

The train banked to the right, opening up my view. Sunlight glinted off of metal far in the distance. A closer look through August haze revealed jagged spikes poking the air. There. There she is. The Manhattan skyline, baking in its own bubble of combustible energy. We were headed right into its core.

 

The city looked deceptively sleepy, content in the harbor it claimed over 300 years earlier. As the skyline grew closer, the sun gleamed brighter off steel and glass towers. Jets now descended smoothly into the bubble, like airships in a Star Wars movie.

 

Our train then dipped below grade. Cement walls crept up outside the windows, blocking daylight. We had entered a tunnel that amplified our speed and the silence in our car. My ears popped.

 

We rushed through the dark as fast as my heart beat in my throat until…we slowed, then crawled. Fluorescent tubes lined a low ceiling now outside my tinted window. A concrete platform emerged below. People inside the car already milled about, restless, ready to leave.

 

The conductor came over the intercom one last time:  “Penn Station. Fiiinal destination. Make sure to take all of your belongings. And thank YOU for riding Amtrak.”

 

We stopped. I rose from my seat and looked down to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. My legs quivered.

 

“Just do it,” I whispered. I grabbed The World’s Heaviest Briefcase and waited, taking in deep breaths of stale air until the exit doors slid open.

 

Photo Credit:Wikimedia Commons/Mws.Richter

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

l i t t l e b r e t t , BIG CITY

When I left college in 1989, I was a virgin with corn-fed drive and a terrifying secret. It could disappoint or disgust my family and friends. It could even kill me. But I couldn’t hide from it anymore.  With "The World's Heaviest Briefcase," I escaped on a midnight train from Lima, Ohio to the YMCA on West 34th Street in Manhattan. Being gay had to be easier in New York, even though I was arriving with no home or job.   Right away, a hooker chased me in Times Square, and perverts watched me shower at the Y. I filled payphones with quarters each day, desperately seeking work. Ultimately, I was confronted by my biggest fear when dating my first man – a member of AIDS activist group ACT UP.  Could I really survive in one of the hardest cities in the world? Or would I fail and return to Ohio, back in the closet to find a wife and a lawn to mow.   l i t t l e  b r e t t , BIG CITY celebrates finding your own place in the world. Here I recall and sal

Paula Abdul Became "Forever Our Girl" This Week in 1989

Paula Abdul’s second single entered its second week at #1 this day in 1989. I was kicking off my last semester at Bowling Green, but I didn’t really connect with the song. I was more “alternative.” Think “120 Minutes.” But it's sure in my head 30+ years later. Paula Abdul is like the Gen X version of Cher.  Earlier this year, she wrapped a residency in Vegas , filling seats with fans of her videos, her choreography, and her iconic role as a talent show judge. Her appeal, like her resume, crosses generations. She’s still not on any of my playlists, but I appreciate her hustle. Check out the video for this song.  She wasn’t so big that she couldn’t pay tribute to some of the biggest videos a few years before her. Even if it was just to fuel her quest to be our girl, forever. Elijah Wood makes his acting debut here too as one of the “Boys of Summer.”

We Got The Beat - For Cardiac Supplements!

Savvy marketers have used 80s songs in commercials for awhile now, trying to appeal to Generation X by raiding our old cassette collections. I think it's cute, validating even. Banks and insurance companies now think I'm worthy of their products! I spent a dozen years working at VH1, so I appreciate the power of nostalgia.  Fidelity Investments has been my clear favorite, lifting "Saved By Zero" from The Fixx; "More Than This" by Roxy Music, and "If You Leave" from OMD—forever tied to Molly Ringwald and "Pretty In Pink," no matter what commercial it lands in. Last year I LOL'd when Geico featured "new homeowners" who were thrilled with their house's character, crown molding, and walk-in closets. But they had a rat problem. Flash to the 80s metal band RATT performing their first big hit "Round and Round" in the attic, bathroom and then the kitchen to the annoyance of the residents. For fun, here's my autogra