Innocence Abroad
by Mistress V
With a nod to Mark Twain (and intentional title here)…OK, gentle readers, this one shot is a direct result of my 'other' job this week. Some pals of mine from the ex-USSR, in town for the skating championships, were bemoaning the fact they'd been to Venice Beach the other day and had been terribly disappointed. It changed since they were skaters (this was in the 90's) and now everything was so expensive! (No more bankrolls from the state government, alas, they're on their own now).
So the muse pricked me with a big pin and said, "Write something short and funny!" And here it is. One chapter, with apologies to any native Manhattanites from this California native. I don't know how our boys got sprung, well, not exactly, so let's just enjoy the show.
I PROMISE after this I will return to the strange, twilight world we lurkers inhabit. The usual disclaimers apply---THEY own it all, I borrow stuff for awhile, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. Copyright Mistress V 2009, what's mine is mine. All right then?
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V and Miss Marple came out of the Beaumont Theatre and into the late afternoon falling on Lincoln Center. They'd just seen a matinee of the "South Pacific" revival and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. V had to admit, she'd felt a little like "That Girl" twirling around the plaza when they first arrived. A good day so far, and it wasn't over yet. She was a little guilty at taking most of Saturday off, but with Jack not back from Albany till tomorrow, she could still attack things later. The cats wouldn't mind.
"I can't thank you enough for inviting me," she told her still-sprightly companion. "Now what do you want to do?"
"I'd adore seeing Times Square, especially since you've told me it's so nice and safe now. And then perhaps an early dinner, something fun?"
"I've got just the spot. And it's my treat." V led them towards the taxi rank. "Let's continue our adventure, shall we?"
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Newkirk took a careful drag on his Dunhill filter. " 'at probably cost me 25 of your cents," he complained disgustedly.
A woman passed by and gave him a stern glance of disapproval. "You're ruining your health with that filthy habit," she admonished with a cluck of her tongue.
"Ma'am," the Brit responded to her departing back, touching two fingers to the brim of the odd-feeling cap on his head. He sighed. "Bloody 'eck, ya can't even smoke a fag, er, a ciggie 'round here, Colonel. What kind of place is this?" He'd already learned what *not* to call a cigarette back at the corner newsstand.
"It's certainly not the Times Square I knew from my prewar days," Hogan admitted. "Well, guys, I'm sorry I brought you here under false pretenses. We've got about $20.00 to our collective names left. That buys almost zilch in this economy, apparently. What should we do?"
The ragtag group gazed up at the neon brilliance of the famous destination, now made squeakily clean for the hordes of tourists wandering around.
"Germans!" Klink whispered. He pointed to a well-scrubbed Teutonic family that was headed into the local Red Lobster. "Whatever are they wearing? The Frau has on trousers! And no hat! And those children!" He shook his head. "This is truly a strange time, Colonel Hogan. Nice, but definitely strange. Don't you agree, Schultz?"
"I see nothing," the portly sergeant replied. Like his superior officer, he was dressed in the 1940's era finery they'd packed for the trip. His attention was focused on the bag of donut holes he'd been systematically demolishing for the past hour.
"Fellas, it just isn't 1943, we've got to accept that. To be honest, I don't have the slightest idea where we should go. Looking for Gimble's was traumatic enough. Here we are in New York City, with a couple more hours of liberty. What's that saying, all dressed up and no place to go?"
"Speak for yerself," Newkirk grumbled. "What's this thing called again? Feels right funny."
"It's a baseball hat. Sorry about that, but our regulation issue was attracting too much attention," Hogan apologized, indicating the Yankees cap. "That guy sure looked funny at me when I asked for a Brooklyn Dodgers one!" He himself had on a Boston model.
"Colonel Hogan," Klink interrupted, "do we not know that woman there?" He pointed discretely with the crop he still carried.
Hogan peered over his shoulder. His eyebrows rose.
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"Some enchanted evening," V sang, "you may meet a stranger!" She laughed merrily and took Miss Marple's arm. "Sorry, I'm just in a New York state of mind right now. Forgive me?"
"It's in the air, like fine champagne," the other woman agreed. "I say, V, those chaps there are looking at us, I'm certain of it. Aren't they from the trial?"
"Oh my Lord!" V breathed, recognizing the band of brothers. "They sure are. What the devil are they doing here?" She gave a tentative wave.
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"Come on, men. That's the signal. She knows us," Hogan ordered.
After introduction were made, V got right down to business. "Have you escaped? Do I need to call Detective Flack?" she asked, her cell phone at the ready.
"No, we're legit. Some anonymous donor, they said, sprang us for a few hours. We each got $20.00 and an all day transit pass," Hogan replied.
"But we can't leave the island," Newkirk clarified. He drew up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a fancy looking electronic wristband. "Somehow, if we did 'ey'd know."
"And then we would 'ave a mess on our 'ands, as you Americans say," LeBeau confirmed. "The gendarme would take us back to the 'otel and we would be, how do you say, under 'ouse arrest."
V glanced around the group. "Just a minute. Some of the guys are missing. Where are they?" Sure enough, not everyone was there.
"Kinch and Baker went up to Harlem," Hogan offered.
"An' we left Carter and Wilson back at the chemist's 'round the corner. They were chattin' up this bird at the counter. She was a druggist, can you believe it? A fine lookin' one, too." Newkirk waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.
"So, what have you boys been up to?" V continued, curious as to what the time travelers had done that day.
"Not much, meine Frau," Schultz said, polite and morose at the same time. "Not much at all." He went back to his donut holes.
"We wanted to go to the Empire State Buildin', Colonel here says it was somethin' t' see. Only it woulda cost every cent we'ad, an' the queues were 'round the block . An' then they told us we couldn't get up ta' the very top, neither, without another ticket!" Newkirk said with a pout. "Between me fags, sorry, ciggies, an' a couple them takeaway saveloys, I'm skint."
"But surely you've found something to do?" Miss Marple queried. "This is New York City, after all!"
"Colonel Hogan took us to see the fine stores," Klink said, addressing the women with a nod and a click of his heels. "We went to Macy's, and to a bookseller's called 'Barnes and Noble', which I enjoyed very much. Though we could not find another place, one called 'Gimble's.' "
"Oh, that closed. A long time ago, sorry to say. So you went shopping, good. Anywhere else interesting?"
"Stopped at a place named 'Best Buy' as well," Newkirk whistled. "I 'avent a clue what half that stuff is but it sure was fun to have a gander 'round there. Kinch and Baker would've had a field day!"
"I'll bet," V agreed, wondering what the two would think of the new, regentrified Harlem.
"We want to 'ave a drink, but there aren't any sidewalk cafes here," LeBeau complained. "It is obvious you cannot simply buy something at a wine merchant's to drink out in the squares, either. You must go to a bar. That is not the same." He shook his head. "And the offerings! Sacre chat! Ten of your dollars for a glass of something questionable, from California, or Chile, or Australia! California? 'ollywood makes wine now? Have you nothing French 'ere?"
"Yeah, and what the heck's a Light Beer?" Hogan added.
"The coffee is good," Schultz said. "Expensive, but verrrrrrry good." Klink nodded in agreement.
"Never mind the bevvies, where are the birds?" Newkirk joined the fray. "Colonel here promised Times Square was full of, ya know, adult type entertainment. This don't look adult to me, more like Piccadilly Circus!"
V fought the temptation to collapse into a fit of giggles. She straightened her face and gave a sympathetic smile to the men. "Oh, most of that stuff has moved down to New Jersey and out into the suburbs. You can still find things like that down in, say, the Village, but it isn't the same. Mayor Giuliani spearheaded the move to make Manhattan safe for visitors, so old Times Square got sanitized, if you will."
"Guli who?" Hogan asked. "What happened to La Guardia?"
"There's an airport named after him, Colonel, but come on. It's 2009, remember?"
"Yeah, I keep forgetting." He gawked at a lime-tressed teenager that jogged by, piercings covering most of his ears and nostrils, plus an eyebrow.
"Zut," LeBeau muttered. "We have only a few hours left and we can do nothing except eat…pastries and sausages. There must be something that we can afford!"
"I still want a drink!" Newkirk declared loudly. Hogan poked him.
V thought a minute, then whispered in Miss Marple's ear.
"Splendid idea, my dear," the woman beamed.
"All right, men. Miss Marple and I will take you on a little adventure. But first, we'll get Carter and Wilson. I presume you're all hungry?"
"Starving, meine Frau," Schultz said, a puppy dog look glazing his eyes.
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V hit her cell phone button with one hand as she expertly popped the cork on a bottle of champagne with the other. Thankfully, the noise was drowned by the sound of a tap being used. She deftly poured the fizzy liquor into her empty metal water holder.
"Hey, Detective Flack? V here. Look, we ran into the boys, they've been sightseeing." She paused. "Yeah, I think it's a nice thing too. Remind me to write a thank-you note. I have a little issue, though, wanted to clear it with you first. "
They spoke further as she closed the container and disposed of the evidence in the washroom trash bin. Flack agreed to the plan and said he'd meet up with everyone at the restaurant in Chinatown later, to escort the lads back to their quarters.
V came out into the terminal and motioned to the group. "Let's go!" she ordered. "Hup, two, three, four!" And with that, the odd looking platoon boarded their transportation.
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"A toast!" Klink proclaimed, as everyone held up their paper cups of illicit liquor as discretely as possible. He raised his own towards the illuminated Statue of Liberty. "To friends, comrades, and America!"
"Here, hear!" Hogan responded. They drank.
"This is excellent champagne," LeBeau said, smacking his lips appreciatively. "As only the French can do it."
"Oh, it's not French," V informed him with a wink. "It's from California. A vineyard named Korbel. They do quite good vintages, actually, for the everyday budget."
"California?" LeBeau repeated in disbelief. "This?" "Bottle Shock" for him had not yet taken place.
"Yes, that place where Hollywood is. But this vineyard's up north, in countryside that's a lot like France. In fact, almost every one of the 50 states has a wine industry now." V topped up everyone's drinks.
"Could we have some wine with our meal, then?" the Frenchman continued. "I mean, from California?"
"Sure, but Chinese food doesn't go with wine. Beer's better," Hogan told him. "Even that Light stuff's probably good." He paused. "50 states? Who'd we add?"
"What's that?" Carter asked V, pointing to her insulated water container.
"This? It's my Eco Canteen," she replied absently, then returned to discussing Alaska and Hawaii's statehoods with Hogan.
"A canteen?" Klink pondered, inspecting the item thoroughly. "This does not resemble any canteen that I have ever seen. What do you put in it?"
"Water, usually," V began. It was going to be a long, but entertaining evening, she realized.
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Jack McCoy was about to head off to an exceptionally boring cocktail reception, before an even more boring conference banquet. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering how he'd be able to get through the pomposity, schmoozing and formalities ahead. A sigh escaped him. He wanted to be home, away from this, but it was his chosen profession after all.
His IPhone chirped. Curious, he checked to see who could be calling. He smiled when he saw who'd sent the message. Ah, an attachment, he thought. Wonder what's happening back in Manhattan?
"Having a great time!" the text read. "Hope you are, too!"
Just below a shot of a happy group, glasses raised, with Lady Liberty on the far skyline. The faces were familiar, one particularly so.
"What the heck are they doing on the Staten Island Ferry?" McCoy muttered at the screen. Then he shrugged.
Some questions were best left unanswered. For now.
FIN
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The current revival of "South Pacific" is playing at the Lincoln Center's Vivian Beaumont Theater. In the 60's sitcom "That Girl", Marlo Thomas' character strolls around the Center's plaza during the opening credits.
A 'fag' is a British term for a cigarette, so is a ciggie. A saveloy is a kind of sausage served at fish and chip shops in Southern England (I used to have saveloy n'chips in my grad student days). I figured it looked the most like a hot dog to Newkirk. 'Skint' means broke. A 'bevvie' is a beverage. And a 'chemist's' refers to a drugstore or a pharmacy.
"Bottle Shock" is a film that details the famous blind taste test of the 70's that paired French and California wines against each other. California won. And again in the retest, years later. Korbel isn't the most prestigious of the champagnes my home state produces, but it's very palatable!
The Staten Island Ferry is, I think, one of the best free things to do in New York. I rode it so many times one visit the crew wondered if there was something wrong with me! ("Aint ya got someplace to go, lady?")
It's about $20 total to go up the Empire State Building (without an express pass) and tickets to get to the top observatory are extra. The lines are like any major tourist attraction…long (but worth the wait!)