Four More Salad Eaters

I have this neighbor....let's call him Chuck. Chuck is freaked out lately because they are sanding and painting our apartment complex and it's been going on nonstop for ten weeks with no end in sight. As for me, I've been out of town for months, so I kind of welcome the distraction as a reminder that home is sweet even when it's not. Besides, I can go up to the Pig to write. Chuck, though....he's stuck. He doesn't like people much so he confines himself to his home, even when his home is in total deafening chaos. In truth, he likes animals more than people and I believe Chuck feels like he would be subjecting them to cruel treatment if he didn't stay there and suffer along with them. He has three cats. He feeds the coons and the skunks living under his building. He feeds the neighbor's cats and the strays in the hood and walks the dogs in the surrounding buildings. Chuck is the Doctor Doolittle of my street.

The other day Chuck comes over asking me for a favor. I am happy to oblige without question, but what is it? "Did you know I have turtles?"

"No. When did you get them?"

"About twenty five years ago."

Apparently they hibernate in his back yard during the winter. It's not like I should've expected anything else nor should I have known. He just never mentions them, that's all. So I was a little taken aback when he asked me to Turtle-sit for a while. Well it turns out that as much of a random personality as Chuck is with humans, he's the exact opposite when it comes to animals. He's the fucking Timex watch of animal maintenance... true as North, Right as Rain. As he doesn't really trust me to actually take care of them so every morning he wakes me up to come through my place to get to the patio and feed the turtles. He calls me every day, probably three times a day to tell me about the progress of the sanding and painting and whether he'll need to move the turtles that day. He also asks me if I will go to Dan Tana's and get him a salad. This has been going on for about three weeks now.

So I've added to my menagerie. Three lizards in mobile homes and a small, moody creature who keeps odd hours named Chuck. Who knew pet-sitting was going to be such work?

The X

She had asked about visiting Six Flags ever since we moved here, but it was always the kind of thing that was easy to consider and never actually accomplish. After all, theme parks are expensive, usually far away, all-day affairs. We were both busy trying to get careers going in a new city. So I was always looking for a gig or trying to create my own work and she was always auditioning or networking. We weren't having the same successes, though. While I somehow found a way to scrape together money for rent, she did not. So soon she spiralled from motivated to angry to tired to depressed...and then just apathetic. Finally, she picked herself up and decided to go back to NYC to jumpstart her career. And that was the beginning of the end. She was gone for six months and she came back out in February to feel things out. By that time, I was working 18 hour days on a feature film. Exhausted and knee-deep in work, I didn't have the mental capacity to discuss 'the relationship.' I guess I assumed it would always be there, a given. There are no givens in this life, though. So one day she came home from whatever it is she did during the day and sat down on the couch and we had the talk. I was a zombie. And I'm pretty sure I said things that were fairly non-committal. Then she asked me 'do you even love me anymore?'

...We had been together for four and a half years and yet we were not engaged or married. I didn't consider this, though. I just couldn't believe the question, and my reaction time, zombie-induced or not, was too slow. I answered. It didn't matter. There is a long silence. Wrong answer.

The next day was mother's day. A friend once told me that Mother's day was the best day to go to six-flags because no one was going to take their mother there and most couldn't get out of visiting their mothers. So I suggested we go do the thing we had always talked about, but had never done. 'Let's go to Six Flags today!!' Yes, it was about to happen, finally. We called our mothers and headed out to the park. No one was there. It was a barren wasteland of childhood wonder and it was all ours. After doing all of the roller-coasters that were open, we came upon one that was not: the X.

Now, the X is a monster. It's on of those rides where you are seated with legs hanging free and your torso is strapped to this big metal armature. Also, you're seated backwards, so you can't exactly see what's coming. Finally, the rig you're tied to rotates, so when entering a sheer drop or going into a harsh roll, they can rotate you the opposite direction to create a truly disembodied experience. They just shouldn't be allowed to subject humans to this.

After a pit-stop and a refill, we saw a line forming for the X and we eagerly joined. In the back of my mind, though, I was occupied by other thoughts. A rush or nervousness growing with each of the ten thousand steps you take in the line hummed in my head like white noise. I was distracted. What I failed to recognize at the time was that this was it. The moment approaching like an asteroid hurtling towards Manhattan was coming...unavoidable, beautiful, and this was as good as it was going to get during our time together. Metaphorically speaking, we were taking the next step.

Soon we are standing at the gate and the torture rack rolls before us coming to a baritone clank halt, locking the car into place followed by a sudden release of hydraulic fury. It was hissing at us. The gates fly open and you face your last opportunity to turn back. Wait! Is that a six year old getting into the next seat? All right, my fear is now becoming embarrassing. Now I have to do it. See...even as the moment approaches, all I can talk about is my perceptions. This is why men are different than women. A woman would be waiting for the moment of clarity and she'd stare it down, grab it by the throat, and celebrate her domination. Men may be hunters in the physical world, but in the emotional world, women are at the top of the food chain. Men...are plankton.

At one point, I remember riding this thing and being scared for my life and I heard the sound of my girlfriend next to me, shrieking wildly as g-forces acted upon her. These weren't screams of terror, though. They were something else. Whereas I was literally in torment and couldn't wait for this torture device to end, her screams sounded...happy. I hadn't heard this in her voice, screaming or otherwise, the entire time we were together. We had gone through four years of Broadway shows and openings, parties, new years eves in new york, a vacation in Napa, 9/11, unemployment, depression, cancer, Christmas, thanksgiving, sex in several states, a wedding in mexico, cheating, acceptance, forgiveness, summers on fire island, a couple of pets... all the personal moments that make life worth living...but none of them came to the razor-sharp point of clarity that a careening two minutes of suspended disbelief would provide. And once I finally heard her voice, the voice of this woman's true self finally unleashed, I realized that I could never bring her that kind of happiness (ironically, as the one who paid for the day, I was the one who provided her with exactly this kind of happiness, but who's keeping score?). I also realized that the roller coaster was not my X. She was.

After that we raced around the park, riding all the other casters, eating junk food, and generally being silly. We had our pictures taken and, honestly, had more fun playing like children than we had in four and a half years of being together. In a way, it was the perfect ending. The relationship had often been a mile-a-minute thrill that was a fun ride, but one in which neither of us was in control. And in the end, I think I wanted off the ride.