The Mava

On an Indian summer day, I walked in Highline Park, smelling the pleasant aroma of plants and feeling very frustrated with this world.

The reason I felt frustrated was that I had an encounter with a handsome stranger; we bumped each other passing on the street. I remember that moment very well; I was on the corner of the intersection. And the handsome man stood on other side of the street. Our eyes met and I smiled at him because I thought he was so handsome. He smiled back. The walk signal blinked. As we walked toward each other, my smile became bigger. I waved and he said something. I turned toward to him and asked what he said. I could not understand his lip movements. But his lips! They were lustrous and ripe! I asked him to say it again. He became puzzled said something again that I didn’t understand.

Oh damn! I raised my hand to tell him to pause and told him that I am deaf. He apologized and started to walk away. I shouted, “Wait!” Then I wondered if I’d shouted too loud, like a caveman! At the same time I fumbled inside my tote bag for a notepad and pen. I scribbled a sentence.

“Hello, I could not help myself--you are handsome! I don’t understand what you spoke to me. Can you write it down for me?” He read the note then nodded and waved good bye, walking away. What the hell! I groaned so loud that he turned to look at me. I pasted a smile on my face, and returned his wave as if I did not care.

It is the same old bullshit that I have to deal with it every second of my life on this world, EARTH!  Ear plus th = EARTH!

Downcast, I decided go to Highline Park to try and forget what had happened but it turned out not to be such a good idea. There were so many couples cuddling and smooching like there was no tomorrow.

Near the end of the line, I decided to get out. I cannot deal with that PDA! Public Display of Affection. I couldn’t stop myself from visualizing what I and the handsome stranger would be doing if things had worked out as I hoped. We would have hit it off and had a wonderful dinner together. We would stroll all over Manhattan. My notebook would be filled with thousands words of kindness and inspiration. But the bubble burst! He got scared of my deafness; I don’t have any goddamn chronic illness. It would not infect him! Why was he such a dolt about it!

Thinking about it, I hardly knew where I walked and I landed in the meatpacking district in Highline Park.

So, now I am in the meatpacking district, a hardcore fashionable neighborhood filled with boutiques that would make you to live paycheck-to-paycheck, and upscale restaurants that would make you run to a fast food restaurant to fill your stomach after you’d eaten there. I wandered around this neighborhood aimlessly. I looked at people like they were zoo animals, creatures with colorful outfits preening like birds so they could strut around.

All of a sudden I hit a concrete Jersey barrier. This brought me back to reality and I pay attention to where I going. Ah, the sidewalk route changed. I followed a path toward to the sidewalk. Then I saw something that grabbed my attention: a trashcan. I became excited and all but ran toward it. It looked battered with peeling bright blue paint. It was filled with used Starbucks coffee cups. But on top of the pile of cups was a fresh copy of New York magazine, and on the cover was Kim Kardashian with the wordsFALL FASHION.

That was what I needed. I am intrigued with this magazine because it looked like a deliberate set up. I have to resist the temptation to grab the magazine. I light a cigarette, buying time while studying this magazine. It should be stained with garbage. But it was in pristine condition. Incredible.

What was even worse, I even dared myself to take a picture of it with my IPhone. I caved in, picked the magazine up and looked at it. I even sniffed it to make sure it smells like a magazine. I felt someone was looking at me! I looked around to my right, oh my stars!

A group of elite people were staring at me in silence. They were Waris Ahluwalla, a well-known jewelry designer, Arden Wohl, a socialite and filmmaker, and Padma Lakshmi, a television host!

I wished something would fall from the sky to distract them. I felt awkward.  Then I decided to be cool about it and walked toward them. They were still silent. I mean, (jumping in the air) they stared at me, their heads turned toward me when I moved. Their eyes followed me. I paused and gave them the once-over, looking them over from top to toe. I sighed and nodded in deep disappointment.

I walked across the street as if I knew where I was going, toward the Standard hotel. A hunk of a stranger stopped me. He told me to go that way, pointing. Confused, I said, “Why?” It was easier to say than “Why can’t I go that way, what’s wrong?” He babbled something that I didn’t understand so I followed his suggestion. Wait a minute! Why am I listening to him? I turned back and pointed to the front entrance of the Standard hotel. He let me pass; I looked around; what was the commotion?

There was a camera aimed at a young dude, a has-been fashion designer named Esteban Cortez who was running toward the camera. I realized I am in full view of the camera. I covered mouth to disguise myself and tried to push open the front door and concluded that I had to pull not push it. There was a doorman behind the door. What the hell, he could open it for me! I told myself to call it a day! I turned and left. I went back to my beloved abode! I threw myself on my bed and guess what I did next?

        I pulled out the found magazine and read it. *sniff*