Two years ago, I wrote of the great adventure called the Romp in Central Park. While we had hoped to do that each year, it did not happen in 2009. From my perspective, that was not a bad thing given the general state of my health, but it was sorely missed all the same.
So it was with great joy that I heard that the Romp would happen again this year. The spring has been unusually warm, and a pony's thoughts do tend toward frolicking and romping...not to mention pulling carts, getting his picture taken and nuzzling noses with Firefox.
More on that later.
The date was set for May 1, 2010. Now it's always great to spend a day in Central Park, but Mayday! Of all the days, that one seems to touch chords in my psyche. It may be because it happens to be the pagan celebration of Beltane (yes, I'm pagan) or perhaps it's just because it would provide me a chance to spend some time with Mistress and Stormy. Maybe it was both...especially where Stormy is concerned. In point of fact, though, the date probably has more to do with the romantic notion of canoodling beneath the cherry blossoms with the New York City skyline behind you.
Or the thought of it anyway. The spring had been so warm that the cherry blossoms were pretty much gone by Mayday this year. There was an impressive carpet of them on the ground, however, so there was no need for dampened spirits on that count.
But I get ahead of myself.
I may be getting older. The last time, I was out of the house and on my way to Mistress' place by five in the morning. This time around, it was 6:30. Not a big deal since the people who would be hosting us this year would not get home much before 8:00 in the evening. I had had a scare the night before leaving that left me reluctant to believe that I would be able to make the trip at all, so getting underway was really important. Once on my way with a considerable amount of the state of Maine behind me, I relaxed enough to believe it was actually going to happen. I was on my way to a wonderful pony play event and nothing would stop it now.
The trip to Mistress' house went smoothly and I arrived in the late morning. There was the usual packing and rearranging of the van to do. We were asked to bring three stalls for ponies in addition to the cart and the usual assortment of whips, tack, stable supplies and evil grooming tools. Oh, and the treats. Never forget the treats!
Or anything else for that matter. The last time we romped in Central Park, I had forgotten to pack the tire pump. The wheels on our cart are air filled rather than solid. They give a better ride, but do tend to soften over time no matter how much gunk you inject into them. I don't know what got into me - or what failed to do so - but two years ago, I looked at that pump on the cellar floor and thought, "Tire pump..." and then left it sitting right there. Something I came to regret a day or two later.
This time, I remembered the tire pump. I made sure it was in the van and even asked Mistress about it just to be certain. Two sets of eyes are far better than one, especially if the one belongs to a very anxious pony. No mistake. It was there. So was the cart, the clothing, the tack bag, the stalls, the stable signs, the carriage whip, the toy box, the food, and the two of us.
Once we were all strapped in, Mistress fired up the engine. "First stop," She said, "air for the tires."
The tires.
I had forgotten the tires. They were still sitting on the ground just outside the cellar door. Well, it had to be something, I suppose. And at least we were still sitting out in front of the house. I would have looked pretty foolish holding up the rear of the cart on the bridle path because I didn't pack the tires. And make no mistake, I would have had to do that.
"At least I remembered the pump this time!" I said.
"Yes, because if you got winded, we could stick it in your mouth and pump you back up."
Really, She would have.
So, with everything finally packed, and me feeling very fortunate that She had mentioned filling the tires, we at last headed for the Big Apple.
We stopped to pick up Stormy and had a late (read very late) lunch. It was more of an early dinner, but it was not at all bad. Maggie McFly's is a pretty nice spot that doesn't cost a whole lot. That's important on road trips like this. Once sated, we were again on our way. This time, with three in the van.
I don't know how She does it, but Mistress manages to drive in places like New York City without losing Her cool. I suppose it comes from being raised and learning to drive in Boston. In fact, New York drivers are pretty tame compared to their counterparts in Boston. I'd be nervous about that comparison except I'm certain Bostonians are quite proud of that. Still, the liminal snarl of roads and bridges on the outskirts of NYC are some of the most counter-intuitive passages you will ever encounter. Just because you can see the big buildings doesn't mean you are actually headed toward them, and one moment of lost concentration will send you off course.
Truth is, I have a very troubled history with the outskirts of New York City. I have attempted the Triborough Bridge at least three times that I can remember, and have ended up in Queens each time. That's not a bad thing if Queens is your destination, but if you're trying to get into Manhattan, well, it's bad. It helps if you realize that the Triborough Bridge is actually three separate bridges, but not much. This was the first time I had ever been in the passenger's seat while crossing the first bridge. I knew there was supposed to be an exit to FDR Drive on the right side, but I had never been able to find it while driving. The best I could figure, you were supposed to drive over the right side of the bridge at some point and hope you landed on a road bed. But no, there is an exit. I just never managed to find it in all the traffic.
But let me tell you, I know how to get to Queens! Entirely by accident, but I can do it! But Queens is a lot like the land of the dead. In the words of Captain Barbosa, it's not getting there that's the problem. It's getting back.
Still, Queens was where we were headed, and with Mistress at the wheel, we made it without too much trouble. You can't help the glitches that Google Maps provides, so you just have to deal.
The friends we were staying with live in the Astoria section of Queens. It's a rather nice, upscale area that doesn't seem to take itself too seriously. There are a lot of restaurants - including a lot of Greek establishments. I happen to love Greek food and it's not very available in Maine these days. So I was looking forward to that. The area is also pretty handy to the part of Manhattan that we were going to be visiting in preparation for the romp, so everything was fitting together nicely.
When we pulled up to our friend's town house apartment, we found that there were three door bells. They hadn't told us which to push, so I did what any self-respecting pony would. I pushed the shiniest one.
It was the wrong one. Fortunately, that nice person had to get up at that point in preparation for his night shift. Oops. We asked which button would get our friend to the door, and he showed us. Once that was cleared up, we were admitted and spent some time visiting.
It wasn't a late night as we were going to be busy the next day. We had dinner at a lovely Greek restaurant and went back to the apartment to visit. Soon, we were hitting the hay for the night.
Morning came none too early. Stormy and I had shared a bed and slept well. That's odd as neither of us tends to sleep well in an unfamiliar bed on the first night. Then again, we are both very comfortable sleeping together, so maybe that compensated or something. Beatrice the cat came in to inspect us several times during the night, but that was about it.
Once we had breakfast and got showered, we headed into the city for the Romp.
That will be the next story...
