I work in the theater distric of Times Square and my daily walks to work have taken me past the strikers who have been out here for a couple of weeks protesting the fact that they're not getting paid for their share of contributions to the theatrical arts. I stopped to chat with one of them as a gesture of support -and perhaps to satisfy my longings for what I've now left behind.2 months into my real-life full-time job, there's a holiday party which puts me on the 65th floor of 30 Rockefeller Plaza, also known as The Rainbow Room. The very same place that I had missed out on just a couple of months ago when I was doing my paparazzo gig for JLo at Radio City Music Hall.
Funny how life turned out! Here I am at this coveted area, eating sumptuous food and hobnobbing with my office buddies -drink in hand and gazing out through the hazy glass windows at the New York City skyline... my reverie takes off into the distance and I think back to the fantastic time I had just 2 weeks ago at my daughter's wedding. I danced, I drank, I rejoyced, I ate, I hugged and kissed my relatives and friends. A vast difference compared to this place where most people are just standing still listening to the blaring DJ'd music.
I spent an hour and decided to boogie out of the increasing crowd. Down the windy elevators of the RCA building, picking up my coat and scooting out into the tumultuous crowd awaiting the lighting of the Christmas tree. There would be some celebrities there to sing songs -but there was no allure. That part of my parallel life was now in denouement.
Tonight, on the news, they announced that the strike was over and everyone was going back to work. The stock market was going back up -and life is good again!
