I Have a Dream

One of my favorite things to do of late, while walking through the various and sundry chaotic environments of greater metropolitan New York City, is to play music on my iPod which is at complete odds with my surroundings, effectively turning said surroundings and their inhabitants into a sort of surreal, urban ballet.

For example, Charlene's "I've Never Been to Me", while trapped in 6pm shoulder-to-shoulder commuter gridlock at the corner of Broadway and 47th.

Or Juice Newton's "Angel of the Morning", while winding my way through a sea of crass seventeen year-olds on Jerome Avenue every day at 8:30am.

This morning, it was Chicago's "If You Leave Me Now," as I dragged myself towards the subway through the thick ooze of sleepy-eyed, distracted business people and highschoolers and fruit vendors and Metro distributors.

Of course, it didn't take long before my instincts took over, and I began to choreograph.

As is wont to happen, inspired choreography soon gave way to painful disillusionment as I recalled that, because M. is a good seven inches shorter and twenty pounds lighter than me, his chances of mastering my imagined lift-and-turns and death spirals and pasa dobles by June 24th - - never mind my prospects for limbering up my own octagenarian hips enough to get my foot onto his shoulder for our tour finale - - are what one might call minimal at best.

Unless, of course, we practice very, very hard.

Hopefully the other commuters won't mind.