before i turn to stone

30 Rock is not just a sardonic TV show but it's also the nickname for the actual headquarters of one of the largest media conglomerates in the country. NBC Universal. It's where I went this morning but where I arrived too late to see a few of the executives whom I loved so dearly when I was an assistant at my former place of employment. I stood sweaty and panting outside the office of the head of the company as he walked past me to get to another meeting. I looked oily and crazy. I glanced around sheepishly at the thin and beautiful assistants in their office savvy outfits and their acclimated body temperatures. I consoled the disappointment of my failed mission with a tuna sandwich and fresh squeezed grapefruit juice from Pret A Manger, a chain of shops I haven't seen since I was in London over a year ago. I sat amidst the lunchtime crowd of dashers and smiled on the inside. I had nowhere to be but back at my apartment to perhaps buy some household items with my roommate the cop. I smelled the amalgam of scents that compose the symphony of the wedge hour that drives the day into two parts, the before and after. I watched it spin around me though I was not part of its universe let alone the center.

Coming out of the train station at 110th street, I encountered two small Chinese women. They were probably 70 and less than 5 feet tall. The older one wore a light purple knitted cap and the sunglasses given to patients of ocular dismay. The kind that block out all manner of light to save the fragile corneas and retinas of people who have seen too much. The younger one had a worn red coat and a smiling face. We climbed the stairs together and I noticed they had each a bag and a wheeled duffle/ backpack. They had trouble dragging the larger bags up the stairs so I asked them in Cantonese if they wanted some help. They giggled and accepted but without shame. Their accents betrayed their origins in the countryside of Canton where lives are meager. I took one dufflebag and marched ahead as they tended to the other. I looked back and saw that it was still causing them a bit of inconvenience so I handed over my Louis Vuitton purse and took a second dufflebag in my free hand and above ground we went. They smiled at their luck to have help. I laughed at the absurdity of me in my high heeled boots, towering nearly 6 feet tall over these two women who had just come from the markets of Chinatown with ingredients for the Lunar New Year feast coming in a few days. Their dufflebags were laden with raw vegetables and meats. As we walked, we discovered we lived on the same street just a few buildings apart. They invited me to have tea with them and sit for a while but I declined as I had shopping of my own to do. I wished them a happy new year and good health. They giggled further.

Two people have been cold to me in the past week but for the most part, I've connected with strangers just as I would have were I in LA. I told a man on the train that his sandwich smelled delicious. I told a gay waiter at a soul food restaurant that his ass was fantastic, probably the most fantastic I'd ever seen. I've smiled at passengers on the subway. After purchases at Bed Bath and Beyond followed by won ton soup at Penang and fried banana won tons at Lime Leaf, the cop and I returned home to unpack, unwrap and assemble. I recounted the story of the little old ladies. I was advised that I should stay out of the affairs of others and that no good deed goes unpunished. I felt sad for the cop. Everyone knows that little old ladies should be the first recipients of a random act of kindness. This city has hardened my roommate and I refuse to succmb to the same stony evolution.