April in february

It's one of those strange phenomena. The first day when a friend visits from a different climate, the weather changes. Usually, and magically I might add, the weather matches the guest. My friend April arrived from L.A. on Sunday night and today New York warmed up to nearly 60 degrees. It was incredible! One sunny blonde gets off a plane and the natives are practically nude in celebration.

En route to her midtown hotel, my eyes met with a stranger's on the train. A relatively handsome but petite man with a beard and earphones sitting across from me. I looked away but realized that I was not going to be the demure young lady who averts her eyes. I literally stared at him until he looked at me again and then I smiled. He smiled back in embarrassment as we continued our ride in silence.

The car door opened while we were motion and a man dressed in black with a large plastic bag scanned the passengers. He approached me and of all the things he could pull out, genitalia excluded, nothing could have been more fateful than a pirated DVD of Welcome Home Roscoe Jenkins, a script which I had read over a year ago, a project which we had greenlit last year and a film currently in theaters released by my people, my company! The DVD was the one-sheet art, clear, crisp, perfect. I asked this peddler of stolen intellectual property if it was the real DVD. He assured me it was. WRONG MOVE. I considered buying the DVD from him for analysis by our anti-piracy team which includes my friend the Vice Chairman of the studio. I considered kicking him in the shins and stealing from him as he had stolen from us. Instead, when he tried one last time to convince me on purchasing the movie, I told him that I worked for Universal Pictures and that he really shouldn't be selling it to me or anyone else. He seemed unfazed and I felt helpless. There is a great world out there of unscrupulous individuals and this saddens me. I'm currently not being paid to defend the company but I defend it nonetheless because it's just not fair. I defend it even if no one is listening. The Glancer was though and when I got up to disembark, he smiled and nodded at me. I waved. Don't buy the DVD, dude.

April was bundled in a black coat and a green scarf which I told her she might not need but I remembered that she's a California girl through and through. We took a cab to Soho with the intention of having a late lunch at Fiamma but instead we stopped at Pennyfeathers to retrieve my Time magazine from my friend Isaac. When he kissed me and told me he didn't have it, April and I decided to walk around the Village and had pizza at John's on Bleecker which was fantastic. Pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms and peppers on a chewy, crunchy crust. We split a salad of simple iceberg lettuce with fresh tomatoes, onions and mushrooms. We dabbed our pizza with napkins. We couldn't shake our Cali habits.

Outside the restaurant, I spotted a woman with a beagle who looked much like our beloved Steinbeck the dog who is in L.A. with my family. I approached her and asked her permission to pet him. This beagle was only 2 but had a smooth coat and was more than friendly. I missed Steinbeck more than I have the entire time I've been gone. I asked my sister if she surmised that he felt my absence. She advised me that she didn't want to find out because if she were to ask him to search for me in the house and he was unsuccessful, he would begin to whimper and suffer great distress. Ah, thus is the standard reaction of many in L.A.

As we walked through the Village to Soho, we caught up on our lives. April is a gentle and sweet girl. She giggles often and although we don't see each other often, we have stayed friends for almost 7 years. We had gelato - stracciatelli and blueberry for me, caramel for her. We spoke of love. We wandered into the Alessi store on Spring St. where April got a cappuccino. We spoke of the genius of their design aesthetic. We spoke of Italy where April wanted to return. They know how to stop there. They know how to live without living to work. We continued on to the Taschen store and then to Eres where I tried on a $400 bathing suit. I'm heading to Florida in a couple of weeks so I needed to make sure I was appropriately jiggly. No better dipstick for that than a bikini. I needed more fat so at the recommendation of the barista at Alessi who was formerly of Jacques Torres, we found Vosges and got a Parisenne hot chocolate. April and I also know how to live.

A few more stops along Broadway where I introduced April to the beauty of Muji and we were escaping the rain and the resultant dearth of available taxis by taking the train. We hugged goodbye and I switched to the train that would take me closest to home. On the C, I stood next to a petite, sandy-haired woman holding a red rose with a handful of rain on its confluence of velvet petals. She wore a red coat and had friendly eyes. I asked her who gave her the flower. She smiled sheepishly and told me that she found it on the ground and that she just wanted to salvage it. She liked how the droplets glistened. I asked her if she was going to keep it or give it someone special.

"I'm going to give it to my roommate. She's had a bad week. She'll like it."

I liked the idea immensely. A lost object with a found importance. We stood peacefully for a moment until I reached my destination when she offered me the flower at the same time as I told her that the world was a lovelier place with her in it. We were stumbling over each others words of kindness. I declined the rose because I told her that her roommate needed it more than I and that I had had a good week. April showers brought me flowers. For me, the city is a blossom with each avenue and neighborhood a petal which opens itself to me slowly every day.