New York Snow Day

I woke early this morning. Snow flakes darted against the window of my Brooklyn bedroom. Beyond the glass a winter storm was decorated the city white. Richie Boy called at 8. He had a client for an expensive watch. 9:30. I called Thailand. My son Fenway was a good boy. Mem was feeling good. It was a good way to start out the morning and I dressed in my ski gear to face the weather.

Three blocks later I was at the Academy Diner.

Bacon, eggs, toast, coffee.

The train ride into the city was daunting. One hour instead of 30 minutes. I was only 30 minutes late. Not bad for a snow day. Richie Boy's customer was already there. I didn't make a penny from the sale. It was 100% RB and rightfully so. The snow wasn't letting up. Richie Boy was booked to fly to Palm Beach for a jewelry show.

Tres important.

All flights cancelled due to inclement weather.

The phone rings. I look at the number. I already knew what the caller wanted to say. Richie Boy's customer had given a Jersey address for the weekend. The snowstorm stopped delivery. The customer was a dick. People in New York get that way, especially in Manhattan. He had canceled the package without authorization. That package (a diamond ring) was in the FedEx hub.

"It's like limbo." Andrea from across the aisle had a package in the hub for 3 days.

"Let's see if we can save it from a fate." Richie Boy asked the FedEx rep about options. "The customer can pick up the package from 11th Ave and 42nd Street."

Winter along the Hudson River was punishing. The winds unforgiving. I thought Richie Boy wanted me to pick it up. We haven't been getting along recently. he and I both know the reasons why. Only yesterday he said that I was a fuck up for not getting the package to the client. An act of god was no excuse. I bit my tongue. I have four kids to my name. They're more important than my pride.

But only a little bit.

"Where you going?" Richie Boy asked without putting down the telephone. The only time of day his ear if free is when he's asleep. No one calls me. I'm a ghost in New York. Richie Boy is threaded into the fabric. Everyone calls him.

"To pick up the package." I figured the go-come back would take two hours.

"Let the prick pick it up." Richie Boy hung up the phone. His ear was boiling red. Better his than mine. I have no one talking in my head while I sleep.

"Fuck him. He was a dirtbag." I don't talk about any customers like that, although Richie Boy's father considers all Gs are POS or piece of shit and they prove the truth of Manny's words more often than not. Richie Boy made another sale. We closed early. The snow was gaining on the rock salt and shovels. His wife was waiting at home. A bottle of wine was my companion. Later a telephone call would join me with Mem. She would know from the tone of my voice that I had been drinking.

"It's a snow day."

Mem is smart.

She knows what that means and she knows me.

I love snow.