|
This fifth fabulous issue includes dispatches from the George Washington Bridge, or as my Midwestern peeps call it, the George Worshington Bridge. (For Hoosiers, the letter “r” is a spice. We sprinkle it on words the way the rest of the country puts hot sauce on eggs.) Going over the bridge to New Jersey is an exercise in flight while still connected to an earthly surface. When the sun hits the water, and I pass under the American flag, I feel liftoff. My soul floats toward Heaven, or at least to the steel girders. I love going to the wonderful Trader Joe’s in the Garden State, just 15 minutes away from that point. Even when “busy,” that TJ’s has teeny lines. Everyone is so nice. Coming back is another story. Every single time, I argue at the GPS, in traffic, as I try to figure out which lane takes me to Worshington Heights rather than the Bronx: Is it exit 1A or is it Route 1A. I don’t like fast geographical decisions. Just TELL ME. Even if I bring a pal to navigate, the moment is one of: “Ahhhh! We’re going to die.” Tip for next time: Take the right lane. Creative Compatriots As I gear up for my Mrs. Claus gigs, I’m remembering how nice it is to work with nice people. The pic above is me and Glen Heroy, one of my favorite Santas. We are dressed as ourselves at a recent Flavors of Magic show, directed by Coney Island Clown Skool colleague Sara Crasson. The next Flavors of Magic is Nov. 13 at the PopUp Cabaret, 265 W. 37th Street, Suite 203. Go! These shows are marvelously diverse and thoughtful. They feature all kinds of magicians doing all kinds of magic.
|
