Saturday, September 10, 2022

RAIN RAIN RAIN by Peter Nolan Smith

September 10, 2001 was a rainy day in New York. The Weather Channel predicted precipitation throughout the afternoon.

I exited from my East 10th Street apartment at 9.13 and headed toward Velseka's on 2nd Avenue. My breakfast of a bagel and coffee came to $2.11 and I gave the waiter a dollar tip. My funds were low, but it was one thing to be broke and another to act broke.

Tony thanked my generosity and refilled my cup to the brink. At least someone was happy to have me back in New York after a six-month stay in Pattaya.

My friends were busy setting up autumn projects or putting their children in school. They answered my phone call with trepidation. Few were in a position to lend me more than $20.

>I exited from Velselka's Diner and watched the NYU co-eds run through the rain. Innocent smiles suited their young faces. They had their lives were before them and like any old person approaching sixty I was jealous of their future, but I still had one too and went over to Astor Place to catch the Lex Line train to Grand Central. I got off at 42nd Street and walked over to the Diamond District on 47th Street. The rain hadn't let up and I bought a cheap umbrella for $4.99. It kept off most of the wet, but nothing could fend off the thickness of the humidity.

My old boss shook his head and I asked the diamond dealer if he had any work.

"Sorry, but there isn't anything happening here, but the rent." Manny lifted both hands in apology. "Why you come back from Thailand? I thought you had it made there."

"It was a bullshit job." Sam Royalle's and my S&M website failed to take off. Both of us were too vanilla to make it real.

"New York's not what it was." Manny read my soul like a ten cent comic book.

"I know." Wall Street Bankers and brokers played the roulette wheel of hedge funds and derivatives. These Ivy League nouveau-riche scorned the dedication of artists and writers. "If I could click my heels like Dorothy Gale in her ruby slippers, I would."

"And end up in Kansas." Manny loved THE WIZARD OF OZ. "I don't think you'd like that."

"No, you're right about that." I had never been to that straight-line state.

"At least it wouldn't be raining." Manny liked the sun. He went to Florida after New Years. That tan lasted the rest of the year.

"This is a drizzle. It's monsoon season in Thailand."

"Drizzle, mizzle." Manny slipped a C-note into my hand. "Wait a few weeks and I'll have work for you."

"Thanks, comrade." Manny hailed from Brownsville and I came from Boston's South Shore. AS much as I could have used more money, a single hundred dollar bill was better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

The rain was lightening up, but I could tell it would last the rest of the day. It was Monday. The Oyster Bar was only a few blocks away. A September day like this was a good day for a bowl of chowder. The weatherman predicted a pleasant day for tomorrow.

It would be 9/11/2001 and I liked that results of that equation better than the result for (9/10) /2001 = 0.000449775112.

Carpe cras or none of the Latins said, "Seize tomorrow."

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