The Tourist

By Rose Wiersma

Even as a self declared local, every once in a while there is a reason to end up in Time Square.  For me, the reason is usually that a casting has sent me there.  I like to play this up, give the tourists a little show…I wear my boldest Derek Lam JacketMango Sunglasses so large that Jackie-O would be jealous, and a show-stopping pair of ASOS 6-inch Platforms.  People usually visit time square for a show right? Well I’m ready to turn some heads.

 

 

 

 

I brace myself as I get out of the train at 42nd street.  I’m prepared for the crowd, I’ve gotten good at negotiating my way through rather quickly.  I’m weaving between people, jumping over strollers, I’m on the curb, then off, side stepping between a taxi and a rickshaw, j-walking, and charging through the Broadway ticket lines. And boom. I bump into him head on. The tourist. His hair is slicked back, he wears an Andrew Marc Leather Jacket and  John Varvatos Converse Sneakers.  A Holga Camera around his neck.

 

 

 

 

I was prepared to be annoyed, but we both smile.  There is a moment of stillness in the bustle that surrounds us.  As I turn to continue on, he pulls out a map and starts speaking Italian.  I don’t understand a word.  “I wish I could help out,” I say, shrugging.  “It’s too bad bad, cause I would totally take you up on a drink,” I  continue. He grins and says, with only a hint of an accent “In that case, come to Lavo tonight.  My friends and I have a table.”

I’m shocked.  He snaps my picture before I know what’s happening and is swept away by the crowd. Hmmmm…looks like I’ll be changing my plans for tonight…

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