Courtesy = enjoyment.

So I saw a Broadway play last night and stood outside the stage door to say hello to an acquaintance of mine who was in the show, who I'll call Henry. I was on my cell phone making tentative plans with someone when Henry strode out of the door with a huge bouquet of flowers and was also on the phone. We caught each other's eyes and stood there with each other but talked on the phone for a good two more minutes, and then ended our conversations right at the same time. We hung up our phones, I said, "Who are we?" and we laughed and I hugged and congratulated him. We ducked away under the marquee of the theater next door to discuss what I thought about the show. He was about to meet a friend and we began walking away from the theater to meet said friend, who we did bump into on the street. Henry introduced me to, I'll call him Ben, who just got out of work himself, the blockbuster Broadway musical a few blocks away. Henry explained to Ben that we met a few weeks ago when we played husband and wife in a reading of a very good and intriguing play that is still early in development. After a few minutes on the street corner, Ben and Henry were clearly about to go have a drink. Now, not knowing Henry well in the least, it would have been easy to separate right then and let these friends have some alone time. But when Henry solidly asked, "Won't you join us?" it was most easy to say yes.

That simple invitation really stood out to me. Keep in mind that Henry is married and there was no flirting, or even mixed signals regarding anything resembling flirting, going on. This is part of the wider point that I'm eventually coming to. So, I really liked that Henry's question, "Won't you join us?" really made me feel invited, not as a tag-along, but as a third party member. It wasn't, "Would you like to come," or "You're welcome to join us," or anything that would give me any room to wonder if they'd hope I'd decline. Then at the bar, when I chose a chair on the end of the bar, Henry said, "Oh, why don't you sit between us?" which I also appreciated. The conversation was lively and enjoyable. Henry insisted on paying for my beer. Then another friend of his, um, Ewan, who looked homeless but was, of course, just coming from his own Broadway play (and who rolled his eyes at the looming opening-night festivities he'd be having to seemingly endure in a couple days), arrived in time for himself, Henry, and I to split a cab uptown.

In the cab Ewan told a dramatically lively story about how he unwittingly saved his neighbor's dog from an elevator incident gone wrong. More laughter and feeling comfortable ensued. After paying them for my cab ride and ending my evening, I couldn't help but wonder (oh my god, I'm channeling Carrie Bradshaw): do men finally understand how to treat women better as they get older? Again, I wasn't on a date, there was no uncomfortable "who's your little girl friend" vibe from anyone, and yet I felt taken care of, which is rare. I hope this gives me something to look forward to, generally. Hanging out with Broadway stars, oh, sure. But more importantly, being treated with courtesy and respect by heterosexual members of the opposite sex with no ulterior motives. Or at least no blatant ulterior motives, which to me, is the same thing: courteous.

Only in New York

So busy lately! A girl's gotta make rent, so I've been spending a lot of time at the office across the street from the church whose bells play "There's No Business Like Show Business" every day a half-hour before curtain. Now, that's just unnecessary. Do the tourists even notice?!

A couple weeks ago I was in the West Village when I noticed a popular '80s actor sitting in front of a cafe on a beautiful morning reading a paper. We'll call him James Spader. Except he's not James Spader. "Hm," I thought. "He must live around here." That same day hours later, I spotted the same guy with a stroller walking in a whole other neighborhood and I thought, "Hm, he must live...here?" It was so coincidental that I told friends about having a Not James Spader sighting twice in one day in two different neighborhoods.

Well, imagine my surprise when at the last-minute before my spinning class a few days later, NJS himself entered the room and got on a bike practically next to me. That's when I knew he was stalking me. Okay, not really. Anyway, for the next 45 minutes I had to smile to myself thinking about 1985 when I dared to go out with some girlfriends from high school I didn't know very well, and we were hanging out with a boy who, in my estimation, looked like Not James Spader, and I swooned all night. It was worth the "danger" of not really knowing these people and riding in strange cars, because Mr. Older Driver so looked like Not James Spader. Maybe one day I'll actually strike up a conversation with NJS. Maybe we'll exchange recipes or talk about things NYC locals do. Or not.

I've been watching a lot of theater lately and last night had the pleasure of seeing a show by the Manhattan Theater Club playing on Broadway called Mauritius. I knew nothing about it going in except that the five-person cast had the potential of being quite powerhouse: F. Murray Abraham, Bobby Cannavale, Dylan Baker, Alison Pill, and Katie Finnernan. It was a delicious theatrical evening. Well paced, well acted, and crazy suspenseful, with a great set that wasn't unnecessarily showy, yet was impressively functional. Theater CAN be like this!!!! I remember loving Shining City a while back in the same theater by the same company. This probably means that I should pay attention and try to see their whole season, because maybe our tastes are compatible.

On my way to work today, some firemen and policemen were trying to talk down an extremely agitated naked dude out in the open on Seventh Ave. in the heart of Times Square. He was sitting on a chair on the street and would sometimes yell and get up, the cop would talk him down, and he'd sit again. Buck naked. Onlookers were really amused by this.

Visit New York! Never a dull moment.

***Update! Naked Dude made the news, and this picture is what I saw live and in person! Ah, Times Square...***