The King Has Arrived

Living on my own for so long, I often forget about girl things. I think I do try a bit harder when back in the real world, as society, decorum and the rules of not catching the plague so wilfully demand. By this I don't mean to go on some sort of mad feminist 'BURN IT ALL' type rant, I simply mean that when left to my own devices, I do prefer to inch towards the feral way of living. I simply just cannot be bothered with it. This is something I forgot to mention to Lydia, a girl that not only understands how the counters at MAC makeup work, but strides in confidently, ordering more lip..blast..shade 79.8 to complement the latest face.. sheen with the laserology complex and GET ME A LATTE GODDAMMIT, I'M DUE TO MEET GEORGIO IN 10. -except not in a bastard way, just in a 'this chick knows too much, dont try and screw her over' kind of way. You get my drift.

I met her from the train station with the happiness of one who is very very much looking forward to seeing her friend, and who also gets to show off their knowledge of New York. It was both gratifying and a bit more gratifying to see Lydia, being a seasoned London underground user, clinging to me on our first subway trip whispering in panic, 'never leave me.' Of course this morning she text me telling me its all well easy, but still. I'll always have that moment. We finally got her to my apartment, I proudly showed her the sink, a chair and many other items also under my command. She nodded, made appropriate noises and we sank into my room. She declared that showering was in order. I stated happily that yes, indeed, we have one of those as well. She then asked me if I had straighteners.
I've used straighteners maybe 5 times in my life. They confuse me a bit with their light saber physique and their heat that is made to hurt precious precious ears. I shook my head slowly. She asked me where my hair dryer was. I didn't actually bring one, I explained because.. because.. becuase I didn't actually bring one. We shared quite a slow look. Luckily, she told me, she already knew all of this about me, and had brought her own. Tragedy number 1 smartly sidestepped.
Now, she asked, was she OK to use my Shampoo and Conditioner, showergel and makeup remover. Ah. Shampoo and Conditioner, I fell over myself to say, yes! All yours! Enjoy with the power of someone who has control over how clean their hair is. Now.. as for shower gel and makeup remover..
Well, the thing is, quite early on in the trip, I left a bag of various liquids in a taxi, never got them back and as I still had some good ol' fashioned soap- soap, the item whose soul desire is to clean, I figured to be honest, whats the real difference? Body, face, they all need cleaning, and SOAP is the man for the job! Hurrah! Free! Hurrah!
Apparently this was not a time for celebration. It is difficult to describe the look on Lydia's face when I explained the soapy situation. But it was a bit like I'd calmly explained that there was a dead African boy in the bath that she'd have to step over to reach the shampoo. But hey, she's not going to complain, she's a lovely girl, she's in NY, she's happy! So, with only slight mutters of 'moisturising glove', 'exfoliating..powder' (may be paraphrasing here) she hopped shower bound, and left me to wonder whether my life is a very correct one. She emerged looking a little traumatised, her MAC makeup still clinging stubbornly to her eyes- I helpfully remarked that if she bought really cheap and crap makeup like I do, it would basically fall off her face as soon as she looked in the mirror. God bless you Collection 2000.

But still, she was here, I was here, and New York was looking cheekily in through the window. There was no time for a soap debate! With a final 'we'll buy some makeup remover today Tash, Ok?' we were OFF to experience NOO YORK CITY like it was the first time, and I was very very genuinely ridiculously happy. We decided to go to central park, it was all parky and wonderful, so wonderful and free of the crazies in fact that in a moment of delerium we decided to go to the Central Park zoo. Admittedly, looking back, this was a bit of an error. A small zoo, filled with 'a polar bear' oh that bear, is only ever going to inspire grief at the best of times. But hey, there was a SNOW LEOPARD on the front of the zoo map! They're pretty exciting, so exciting that you might forget how horribly small the zoo enclosures actually are. WE wandered first to the Tropic Zone, but discovered it was shut. A bit put out, we headed off to the Panda... Party (or whatever) to cheer us up a bit. Didn't really succeed, as it turned out it was shut. The polar bear looked as pissed off as we did. Only the sight of a leopard saved us - and it was the picture of the one on the map, as we realised fairly quickly that the leopard enclosure was shut. We agreed that we'd rather see the happy little fellow on the photo running wild and free than seeing a sad chain smoking cat looking up at us with the distain a prostitute gives to her ugliest punter. Going into the Penguin/Puffin Zone (they quite liked the work 'Zone'- and so did I, made me feel a bit like we were on the Crystal Maze), and walked in to instantly see a penguin pooing into the water, and another penguin swimming happily into it. Oh the glories of nature. I couldn't help overhearing a couple next to us, with the woman saying fervently 'oh look! its just like Happy Feet! Did you see Happy Feet?'
the man was silent for a second, and then said without looking at her, 'Yep. Couldn't stand it.'
By this point we were fairly soul-destroyed by the zoo, and felt we needed to go to a place where the exhibits on display were a bit happier, prettier and less expensive. Oh did we find it. Did we ever find it. Sure you could go to the MET, the MOMA and all those other 'art' places for your aesthetic overload, but we discovered somewhere far, far superior. Superior to the point of death. Lydia slowly guided me into a side of New York I had never seen, as my view had been blocked the crazies wielding broken computers. She showed me the world of...Abercrombie and Fitch. Oh. Dear. Lord.
Upon entering, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen bounded up to us and smiled, 'hi! Would you like a photo?' Before I could ask what she meant, the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life came into view, shirtless, smiling, and waiting to pose. Myself and Lyds were so gosmacked by the beauty in the nearby vicinity we could do nothing but grin like mad fools as a polaroid was taken of us with beautiful man, and then, both of them grinning and waving, we were taken into what I can only describe as the happiest place in the world. The air vents were pumping out a scent called 'Fierce' that was a mixture between pure rugged joy and a really clean and brilliant wolf. Everyone in the shop was happy, dancing and so bloody beautiful you wanted to tear out your eyes and let them eat them. And the music. Oh the music. Some drug had been fazed into the music somehow, as all I could do was turn to Lyds and say 'Lydia.. this music... it makes me feel like.. like.. like I can do ANYTHING.' I looked into her eyes and saw the same hypnotised madness I felt in my own soul. Nothing good could come of this.
But the people though, you dont understand, they were SO happy, and dancey and chatty and BEAUTIFUL. I felt like I needed to savour every moment, because never ever again would such beautiful people look at me directly in the eyes and not slightly to the side for fear of catching something I had. It was amazing. So amazing that we both stumbled out about 7 hours later, dazed, half asleep and clutching bits of expensive material. We held them to our faces, breathed in slowly and whispered 'it smells.. it smells like them.'
Jesus. Thank you Lydia. Thank you for this gift you have shown me. There's no way I would have done this on my own. I probably would have bypassed the shop for an interesting looking 3 legged dog in a hat that limped down a nearby alley.

The final thing I have to mention in this post of hugeness, is that we went to the theatre in the evening, to see a production of Our Town, a play I'd never read, knew nothing about, but a play so famous in america that nowhere on the programme was there any information about the show. Apparently it would be a bit like writing on a Romeo and Juliet programme 'A play by Mr William Shakespeare (English)- who is dead good, about these two people who fall in love and that- not gonna give away the ending but it gets a bit nasty.' We went to the show partially because I'd heard really good things about, and mainly because Jenn Markowitz said she would hurt me if we didn't, and I just don't think she's a woman to make these claims lightly. She knew someone in it, a man called Jeff, who was to meet us for a drink after. All of this, you can imagine, made us very bloody worried we wouldn't like the show, we've have to sneak off at the interval, quit facebook and become children of the rivers- (not a life that would suit lydia). Fotunately, it was bloody brilliant. Thank God. The acting was subtle and lovely, the ensemble was ridiculously strong, the staging was just genius and there was a bit with a curtain that suddenly made you realise the sheer power of curtains. It was wonderful and thoughtful and made you, for want of a better way of putting it, really really glad you were alive. How ridiculous, I know, but its true. So well done everyone. It was good. Quite enough of that I think. We ended up in a bar with a few of the cast and crew, -it turned out we'd crashed Jeff's date, but at least made him buy us a drink to make up for it. After a great chat and lovely beer (mmm the taste of free), Jeff left to get a bus, leaving us a little awkwardly with all the people we didn't know. The only option at this stage was to arm wrestle the producer. That done, we skipped out into the rainy night and danced home- and howww nice it was to have someone else to discuss it all with other than my own brain (sorry brain, you're very nice too).
So yes. Wow. Sorry I've gone on and on. Waiting for the exterminator to come and free us of mice (I'll tell him to avoid Adrain) so I really have nothing to do until he breaks upon us. Oh and we've got bedbugs too. Lydia, I forgot to tell you that bit. If you're reading this now, we have. If you've got a bite, its a bedbug one. So don't worry that its plague. Cos its not. Its bedbugs. Hope thats ok. NEEWWWW YOOOORRKKKKKKKK!