Rainy Afternoon on Broadway

by RC DeWinter

Title

Rainy Afternoon on Broadway

Artist

RC DeWinter

Medium

Painting - Digital Oils-paintpgraphy-photopainting

Description

Copyright 2014 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved

A couple of weeks after I ran into Edward at that bar in Darien he called me on a Friday afternoon.
"I have to take another flying trip to New York," he said, "and I have tickets for a play. Jo is busy with some charity event up here. How would you like to go with me? I can stop and pick you up on the way into the city. But I'll be staying in New York for a day or two; you'll have to take the train home."
I was standing there holding the phone and smiling. Not only do I love theater, but to see another play with Edward would be truly be an interesting occasion.
"That sounds great, what's the play?"
I could imagine Edward shrugging as he answered, "I don't remember, I didn't buy them, someone gave them to me. Probably trying to pack the house for a production that's not doing well."
"What day and what time?"
"I'll pick you up tomorrow afternoon, not sure what time, but early, it's a matinee. I'll call ahead from the road," he answered.
"Deal," I said. "Will we be dining afterward?"
"I suppose so," Edward said. "And then I'll get you over to Grand Central."
"Can't wait, looking forward to it," I said. And even if the play is lousy, the city is always fun. See you tomorrow."
"Right," he replied and hung up.
I figured Edward would be arriving by 10 AM or so and hit the sheets early, knowing I would have to get up and do the back work for my art and poetry at the crack of dawn in order to be ready.
Sure enough, at nine the next morning Edward called to tell me he would be here in less than an hour.
"Don't bother coming down that wretched driveway," I said. "Just wait alongside the road and call me when you're here. I'll come out."
When the phone rang again I picked it up, said, "On my way," and off I went. It was a cool cloudy day that promised rain, and I'd forgotten to grab an umbrella. I climbed into the car and said, "I'm flattered you asked me to accompany you, and excited too. You know how much I enjoy the theater."
Edward grunted companionably. "It's 'Bullets Over Broadway,' by the way. It closes after Sunday night's performance."
"Musical Woody Allen," I laughed. "It should be interesting."
We didn't talk a whole lot on the way into the city. Edward had a classical music station on the radio and we mostly just listened, passing an occasional comment back and forth.
We got off the West Side Highway and drove across town through Hell's Kitchen, me snapping pictures of people and buildings as we crawled through Saturday city traffic. Edward headed for 44th Street and the St. James Theatre and found an indoor parking lot close by. By the time we walked got to the theater, where a line had already formed, it had started to rain.
"Dammit," Edward swore. "I didn't bring an umbrella, and I can see you don't have one either. We'd better hang under the marquee or we'll get soaked."
We ducked under the overhang and Edward pulled the tickets out of his jacket pocket. Scrutinizing them, he said, "Well, at least the seats are good," passing them over to me.
Edward's friend either knew people in the theater or had a lot of money, because the seats were right in the middle and right up front.
"This is great," I said. "One wrong move and we'll be in the orchestra pit."
Edward was busy looking around. As is typical of the city, the line of people assembled for the play was a crazy quilt of humanity - young, old, dressed up, dressed down, from kids to the advanced elderly.
"I get to missing this kind of diversity up at the Cape," Edward remarked. "Everyone up there is pretty much cookie-cutter. Middle-aged or older, well preserved and almost all uninteresting."
"I'm so sorry for you," I answered sarcastically. "The sea at your doorstep and the company doesn't suit. Let grab my teeny-tiny violin."
Edward snorted with laughter. "Well, I may as well amuse myself by sketching this crowd. I'll be able to take a little bit of the city back with me to paint."
Pulling out his ever-present sketchpad and a pencil, he set to it. Not long after the line began to move, and soon we were comfortably seated inside the St. James.
The play was fun, if somewhat brash and very loud. By the time the play was over it had stopped raining and we wandered along until we found a likely-looking bistro with an interesting menu where we enjoyed a delightful late lunch, laughing at our reminiscences of the funniest parts of the play and trading stories about the uninteresting people we'd each known.
When we'd finished, we walked back to the parking garage and collected the car. Edward took me over to the station, dropping me at the door on the corner. I got out, leaned into the window on his side and said, "Thanks again, this was a real treat."
"Glad to get you out of uninteresting middle Connecticut," Edward smiled. "I'm off to the apartment, lots to do. Speak soon," and off he drove into the hurly-burly of midtown Manhattan traffic.
I had forgotten that he had been sketching outside the theater and was surprised when one of his familiar stiffened envelopes arrived in the mail two weeks later.
Inside was a photograph of his painting of our unknown companions outside the theater, and now you too can catch a glimpse of New York City in the rain on a Saturday afternoon.
~ copyright 2014 RC deWinter

A crowd waits in the rain on the sidewalk outside a Broadway theater in New York City for the box office to open.

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August 26th, 2014

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