NYC #1: My story is better than your story

I went to NYC this past Thursday to see the Julliard play my Southern Gothic Husband^TM wrote the music for (more on this in NYC #2).

We stayed in a very swanky-do Philip Stark joint called the Hudson, right over by Lincoln Center. All I can say about the hotel is:

1. It's very dark. I have never been in a darker hotel, as a matter of fact.
2. The housekeeping staff is possibly the friendliest I have ever encountered.
3. While looking for a place to pee one night at 3am when we were locked out of our room, I staggered into the supply room (which should have been locked) and drunkenly stole about $600 worth of shampoo samples. I am not sorry.





The first evening I was there, Jim had to go over to Julliard to finish up the final preparations for that night's show, which was the opening night.

I had about an hour to kill before I had to show up for the performance so I went down to the bar and ordered a glass of red wine. The bar was fairly crowded; most all the one- and two-seat "conversation areas" were filled. So I sat with my wine in a wing-tip leather chair that was part of a larger group of seating: a big leather couch, a couple more chairs, etc., etc. I wasn't planning on being there long, just long enough to drink one glass of wine. I took out my notebook and started revising Potemkin.

I'd been there for about 10 minutes when a group of about 9 young people (mid-late twenties) walked over to me. They were headed by a woman who worked at the bar, and they all looked me over sort of beseechingly, but without saying anything. It was clear this was the only place for this big group to sit, yet because I was perched there it made the whole area sort of off limits; my territory.

"Here, here," I said, standing up and pointing to my nearly empty glass of wine, "I'm fixin' to leave. Y'all can sit here."

"No! No!" shouted the group of people, "We can't do that! Stay! Stay! You MUST join us!"

The last thing I ever want to do is make small-talk with a big group of strangers, and so I started standing up and saying "no really, I'll move." One of the guys in the group, though, looked at me really sincerely and said "Please. We're sick of each other. We want you to entertain us! Tell us ALL about yourself!"

Hmmm, well. It just so happened that I DID actually have something interesting to tell that night, so I relented and sat back down. The person directly to my left was a very nice-looking man wearing a sharp suit and tie. He was way more dressed up than the others he was with, and I found this curious. He looked at me very seriously and said, "So, Robin, tell us about yourself. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm going to Julliard."

"Oh! Your parents must be very proud!"

I laughed and explained to him that my husband Jim was writing the music for this play that the Julliard folks were putting on, and (in response to the man's further questions) that he was an alt-country musician whom I'd met at a show in Atlanta, and had a movie out, and how we'd once sung a song together on Flannery O'Connor's front porch. I felt very happy and excited that I had a good and worthwhile story to tell these folks. Though I wasn't really thinking of it as a competition, it's still nice to think, ha, I'm giving these people something to talk about. I'm always grateful when someone does this for me.

So then I asked the man, whose name was Wyatt, "What are you doing here?"

"We're filming a segment for TV," he said.

This did not impress me. People film TV stuff all the time, even in Athens, GA. They could be making an infomercial for the Ronco Pocket Nose Picker, or a commercial for Strong-Arm Vinnie's Accident and Injury Practice and Deli. We talked for a second about the logistics of filming for TV, and then I asked him, "What TV show are you filming for?"

"The Jon Stewart show," he said. "We're doing a segment on evil bankers and credit-card companies, and we're interviewing a whistle-blower for Bank of America in this hotel's bistro."

"Hang on just a second." I leaned over and began rifling through my large bag, searching for the flip charts, PowerPoint slides, and bell-curve graphs I carry around with me everywhere in order to be able to, at a moment's notice, deliver a concise yet exhaustive presentation about why our entire economy is just about to completely collapse.

We ended up having a lengthy conversation about, well, how our entire economy is just about to completely collapse. I encourage everyone to watch this segment; it's going to be on Monday, Feb 22. As usual, Jon Stewart is one of the only, ahem, journalists, who sees and says what's going on. The fact that his staff had every reason to be all snooty and "yeah, we're on the Jon Stewart show" but instead was as friendly and outgoing as Mary Kay recruiters at the Kroger's just confirms my suspicions that Stewart is a worthy hero.

If only I'd met Wyatt AFTER the first Julliard show, I'd have had a MUCH more interesting story to tell him. I'll have to settle for telling it to you, tomorrow.