Salsa?, the 6 train, bachata, and rain...Sept. 26

It’s technically 2:30am on Sunday, so HAPPY SUNDAY! :) The Mary you know would be coming home from Saturday Salsa at the Wherehouse. The Mary that is in NY is eating cinnamon raisin bread and drinking orange juice, ready to tell a little about how today went…

Real housewives?
The day started with Crys and me going to volunteer at an artsy block party! Crystal's friend Jess works at The Kitchen which has an art gallery, studio, and theater hosting artists and performers of all kinds. This block party…which was free (accept for food and t-shirts), was so fun! They had DJs, bands, dancers, and all of the booths were a project based twist on each artist’s type of work. Flower arranging, drum circle, double dutch with braids, paper sculpture, jewelry making, tattoos, they had it all! Crystal and I worked a cookie booth, “Edible Easels,” that was quote “mad tight.” The kids and adults loved it! How fun to decorate cookies, and you get to eat them! YUMMM! The parents and kids were so cute! I loved watching them work together to create a tasty masterpiece…except for the ‘real house wife.’

It ended well, and tasted so great! :) That required a nap…for me anyways ;)

That evening, at about 10pm, I decided that my life in New York didn’t have enough adventure, or ….Salsa :) So I decided to find it! It was more a matter of research. Looking online, all I had seen were really mainstream places to dance, but I just want somewhere small to go and practice my salsa so that it doesn’t get worse than it is! Dressed for the weather (sweatshirt, vest, jeans, umbrella), you could tell I was out for a night on the town, haha.

I left at like 10:45 or 11pm to get on the 6. When I went down to wait for the train, I was unsure of the wait ahead, so I walked to sit on a bench where a man was sitting alone. In NY, there are benches with 5 divided seats which people generally fill with 3 people, every other seat, so as to not be too close to one another. As I was walking toward the bench, a woman took the seat on the opposite end. I, as the third to sit on the 5-person bench, got the middle seat! Sitting between the woman and the man that was sleeping, I sat down, and took a deep breath. As I looked up, and to the right, I realized that the man was drowsily trying to hold up a sign written on tattered cardboard that read “help,” in blue ball-point pen….that’s why nobody was sitting on that bench. Why did I?

There is something incredibly revelatory to me about a person’s need to write “help” on a sign. I may be slightly presumptuous, but a person who has to write it, probably got tired of saying without being heard. A sign is the least intrusive way, in a busy culture that ‘doesn’t sleep,’ for a person in need to reach out. This man was sleeping. He looked incredibly exhausted, and as he began to nod off, the sign would come down, and then he would sit up again. The sign would be raised, people would look, and then they carried on. I was sitting right next to him. What came to mind were the dozens of faces I have passed on the streets of New York that said, “help.”

I could not ignore him.

So, the train was coming, I could hear it. I decided that as the train came, I would ask him what he needed help with. If the situation were unsafe, I could get on the train. If he legit. needed something, I would be there to listen…

As the train came, loudly and with large gusts of wind, the man was disturbed and began to shout out. In my mind, I had decided to get on the 6 and head out. But then the man stopped. Then the train stopped and he looked me in the eye.

“What do you need help with?”
“I need money to get something to eat. I didn’t eat all day, and I am hungry.”
“All I have is two dollars.”
“Anything will help. With two dollars, and I can get an egg sandwich or something,”

An egg sandwich. I eat enough here. I eat more than enough here, and all he wants is an egg sandwich. I can handle that. But he was not off the hook. The 6 left, and I was still sitting on the bench. I asked him what he had in his hand.

“The Book of Abraham.”
“May I see it.” I flipped through the pages.
“The English is in the back.”
“What part do you read?”
“The English.”

As I read, it seemed to be an overview. I scanned the pages and saw that he underlined only one word, Judgment.

*Through scanning the section on judgment, we are able to free ourselves from the judgment of others, at the same time we are freed from our own judgmental tendencies.

“Why did you underline this?”

He seemed surprised by many things. I didn’t take the train that I had been waiting for. I didn’t ignore him. I gave him my only two dollars. I asked to see his book. I asked him why that phrase was important to him. And I didn’t take the second 6 train.

He explained to me his view on how other people judge. At times I agreed, and at times I didn’t, but at no point did what he say conflict with what I believe. He began to pass through topics like unplanned pregnancy, not being prepared for children, people in NYC not caring. He talked about growing up in Brooklyn, and said that he should leave, that he was too old to put up with it anymore. After finding out that I was from Wisconsin, he was quick to decide that that would be his next destination, presuming that in Milwaukee, everyone was friendly and neighborly. In some parts, yes, that is true, but people make choices everywhere to do or act a certain way.

Another 6 train came. As the rattling on the tracks began closer and louder, we would break from our conversation, only to resume once the train left again. Each time a train came and the people on the cart in front looked at us in curiosity. You might know, better than I, what questions were going through their heads. Whatev. The train left and we continued.

“What is your name?”
“Michael.”
“My dad’s name is Michael G“
“What is his second name?
“Michael Gabriel, what is yours?”
….
….
“Tomorrow is Sunday, I need to go to church.”
“What church do you go to?”
“It’s in Harlem, Ebenezer Baptist Church. You’ve never been there?”

He closed his eyes. I ‘helped’ him and in return, he gave me the little bit of company that I needed on a Saturday night. His eyes were so red, I could tell that he was worn out. I decided that was all our conversation was to be. A million questions went through my mind. What was it like growing up in Brooklyn? Where did you go to school? When did you stop? What kind of work have you done? Tell me more about people's judging. Why are your feelings so strong about people unprepared to have children? What things do you enjoy doing? What is your favorite food? Let’s go eat! Do you go to church alone? What is your community like? Have you always gone to Baptist church? Where did you get the Book of Abraham?.....

His eyes were still closed, and as the noise of the 4th 6 train approached, my questions got lost in the noise. I tapped him.

“Michael, my name is Mary. It was really nice to meet you. I hope that you have a good Sunday tomorrow, especially at church. I am going to church as well, and I’ll be sure to think of you.”

After that, I had experienced enough to head home. But don't forget, I was looking for salsa! I quick hopped on the 6 and waved goodbye to my new acquaintance. We are trying to become regular, right?

I took the 6 to Bleecker St.….I was looking for somewhere on Broadway and Houston. Got off. As is per usual, upon coming to the surface, I headed, in the rain, in the exact opposite direction of where I wanted to go. Lafayette, Mott, Bowery…? Nope, other way.

I found Broadway and decided to investigate north and saw flashing lights…that’s got to be salsa, and it was. I changed sides of the street only to see what I could as I passed by. I wasn’t really dressed to be out, and there were a lot of people outside…so I didn’t stare in lol. That was enough and conveniently I realized that I had killed two birds with one stone. The place that was recommended to me on that intersection happened to also be the name of a restaurant that another person at Sunset Salsa had suggested to me during the week…getting familiar. That was salsa. I also wanted bachata and merengue.

Bachata and merengue are Domincan…so I walked to where Dominicans live on the LES. I walked east on Houston for a while, intrigued by the night scene in NY. It was raining and cold. Girls definitely were not wearing enough to be warm, and the guys noticed for sure. I chuckled. They noticed, ha. I kept walking and I heard salsa on like 1st or 2ndAve. I waited on the corner and listened. Again, I was avoiding the staring in thing and I was alone, so I stood outside and listened. It was definitely salsa and cha cha, but I wasn’t moved. People came in and out. Spanish and English speakers, but no body seemed like they had been dancing. Finally someone same out and said, “The band like took up the whole bar.” Oh…its just to create a mood? I looked in and sure enough, there were like 4 people dancing, and the rest of floor space was a few-person band...

I continued on Houston until the streets started sounding familiar for the Dominican neighborhood. I figured that if I wandered long enough, I was sure to find what I was looking for. Sr. Dianne said that the area was Dominican, and when we went to church the Saturday before, I did here bachata and merengue in some of the ‘colmado’ type stores. Heading south, it was a little dark…there were rats. That wasn’t as big of a deal as the fact that I did not know what I was really looking for. I passed by small salsa, like 4 people dancing. I passed bachata, like 10 guys in a restaurant. I passed something that looked like a club, too dark to tell, one guy standing outside smoking. Ran into Pitt, and walked up to the church….nothing else.

So I backtracked to the ‘club smoker.’ “Do you know where there is somewhere to dance around here?” Not familiar. Bachata guy smoking outside restaurant said, “This is the best that there is.”…kind of figured he was going to say that. We talked for a while, and he could tell that I was having a hard time standing outside while the bachata was inside, so he convinced me to go in. I went in. As is per usual, got a couple dirty latina looks, and proceeded to try bachata. I LOVE IT!!! But they were all watching, and clearly, this is not my stuff, so after one, I sheepishly scurried to the door, grabbed my umbrella, waved goodbye and prepared to head home. I couldn’t leave the bachata. Before I knew it, there were like 3 guys outside…they could tell that I didn’t want to go and were asking me to come back. They were not at all threatening, but it was coming on 1:30, and I did say that I would be home by 2 from my adventure, so I finally left. Unsure if I wanted to be in contact with my one-time dance partner, I did not give him my number, but did take his, we’ll see…

Trains home, back safely. I found some salsa, a potential location for bachata/merengue plus another recommendation, a conversation with a kind man…that was enough for my Saturday! Happy SUNDAY! :)