magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

A local screenprinter was supposed to come into the museum earlier this week and screen some text on the west wall. But, since construction was still going on, the screening was pushed back. And pushed back. One of the items to be screened was four years, 1784, 1904, 1960, and 2006, behind where the 'family tree' is to be installed. The tree is made up of three 5' x 9' sheets of 3/4" plate glass. It is heavy. And needed to be installed this week while there was still a crew working for the contractor on-site. The glass sits only two inches from the wall though, and there would be no way to screen print the dates behind it once it was in place.

Last night over drinks we were discussing alternatives. A vinyl sign maker could turn out sixteen 3" high numbers in no time. 'If they want to pay me a couple hundred dollars, I'll draw them on the wall in sharpie myself,' I offered. We went with the vinyl numbers, which behind three sheets of glass will be virtually indistinguishable from screened numbers. And while I didn't get paid a couple hundred dollars for it, it did fall to me to actually measure, level, and stick them to the wall.

And like that, four days were over, and I was in a cab headed to the airport to catch my plane out of town. Again, for the fourth time in the last two weeks, my bracelets set off the metal detector and I had to be frisked. You should be able to just get into a special line if you know you're going to need extra attention. But then, every airport security guard treats the situation a little differently.

At the gate, the plane out had not yet arrived from its previous stop in the Bahamas. When it did arrive, they had to clean it. Once it was clean they announced that everyone had to board in the next fifteen or twenty minutes or we'd miss our arrival window in Newark. I don't know what it is that people find so difficult about getting on and off planes. But there's no way that a full planeload of passengers are going to board in fifteen minutes. Throw your bag in the overhead or put it under the seat in front of you, and sit the fuck down. It's really not that hard.

But. We missed our window. And sat on the runway for an hour before taking off.

In Newark, having found my way to the AirTrain station, my phone is ringing. It's Garth. 'I'm in New York,' he's telling me. 'I'm at Chris's now, but we're headed over to Dave's later.'

'I'm on a monorail in New Jersey. I should be in the city within the next hour, but I haven't been home in four days, plus I've got my bags. I don't think I have it in me to come out tonight.'

'Well tomorrow,' he says. 'We can all get together for..'

I hear Chris in the background, 'Brunch.'

'Yeah. Brunch.'

'That sounds good. I'll give you a call in the morning.'

---

The art in the 207th Street A line station in Inwood uses the phrases 'At the start' and 'At long last'. Probably because it is the terminus of the longest subway line in New York. (The other end actually has three different termini, depending on which train you are on and the time of week.) But, coming home, and this is home, I've lived here longer than I've lived in anywhere else I've ever lived, with the exception of my family's homes in Lakeville (which I'm closing in on) and Sharon, and after all the traveling of the last two weeks, as much as I enjoyed it all, the 'at long last' was a very personal message.

'Hello Inwood', I whispered to the station. 'Hi Broadway, 207th Street. Hi Seaman Ave. Hello scaffolding. Hi Payson Ave, stoplight. Hi doorknob, mailbox, stairs. Hi there Chesterfield,' out loud this time, 'did you miss me? Did you get into much trouble while I was gone?'