Minty Fresh Memories

Walking.

Through the city this past weekend.

Mostly alone.

I found myself in Hell's Kitchen.
No surprise.
I passed by the old apartment. I stopped in to say hello to Angela at The Coffee Pot. I even ate at Zen Palate. I contemplated a glass of Wine at Riposa. But, decided against it. After all, it was only 5:30p.m. and I hate that place anyway. 5:30p.m. on Christmas Eve of Christmas Eve is beer time, not wine time in my book. So, after one $3 Rolling Rock draft at Cleo's Old Faithful, I reluctantly walked north toward The Shops At Columbus Circle with gift giving intentions. I approach the deli that lives on the southwest corner of 9th Avenue and 49th Street. A deli I pass by frequently with rare attention paid, but today was lonelier than most for me and I found myself drawn to it. Perhaps it had to do with the season or maybe just my hangover. But, for some reason I went inside. I didn't need anything so I bought some gum. I left the deli and found myself heading west on 49th Street even though that was out of my way. Only three strides west and it hit me. This is the corner I told you to meet me on the night we reconnected after some awards show. The same deli where I waited with such intense nervousness and anticipation. I believe I even kept my fingers crossed, hoping you would pick me over the present company at that dank bar we both were in.
That night, I told you to meet me on that corner not knowing whether or not you would or wanted to. I texted you and then ran inside to grab some gum. I then proceeded to devour a whole cig in under 2 mins. This was in an attempt to remain calm and appear cool, only to fail miserably and bring my heart rate up. I remember tossing the gum in my mouth and then chomping on it ferociously. I rubbed the half chewed piece on my teeth aggressively. I guess I was hoping to either sand away the smoke and booze or pass on, by way of osmosis, the minty goodness. I stood there licking my lips and slathering my moustache with it's minty juices hoping to mask any taste or smell of tobacco and nicotine. I was trying to make a drunken-sunrise-walk home as romantic and hopeful as possible. If we were to FINALLY kiss, even at 5am on a topsy-turvy Sunday, I was going to make sure I made the most of it. I went as far as to take the Orbitz out of my mouth and roll it between my fingers in case you kissed my hand. (Freak) Because I probably wanted you to do that. I know I wanted you to kiss me. Kiss me hard. I know I wanted to find a corridor or a quiet stoop and kiss you back. I wanted you to kiss my neck, cheeks, lips...whatever. I remember wanting your kiss more than I ever wanted another kiss. I also remember I was pretty drunk and couldn't possibly properly compare the weight of all my life's desires in just few short minutes. But, it didn't matter. That was all I wanted at that hour of that given day. Or at least the alcohol told me so.

(God to think...? What if you had never kissed me? All that gum exercise would have amounted to nothing.)

But, you did.
You kissed me. I think it's safe to say you kissed me first.
You kissed me with confidence and passion. The perfect see-saw of kisser and kissee by both of us. It was breathtaking. Oh, alright, who am I kidding. It was sloppy and uninhibited. It was lustful and ravenous. It was a year's worth of pent up passion well oiled over the past few hours and loosely falling into place. But, I remember it so vividly.

I remember debating whether we were going to go home with one another. I remember holding your hand and walking/stumbling you home. I remember exchanging numbers and making promises to call. Why after all those years did we not have each other's number? I remember it being muggy and humid. Was it the summer or the brink of fall? I remember you tasting like cigs and booze. All my gum tactics pointless because you smoke too. I remember not caring. I remember liking it all. All of the way it was unfolding.

I knew when I saw you inside the bar that night. The look of excitement and surprise in both our eyes. I knew we would kiss. Maybe not that night but soon there after. I knew we would experience something. It was bound to happen after a year or more of over the counter drugs being doled out to you for free and pleasantries exchanged with a longer hug than normal. Or better yet, a lingering gaze full of curiosities across the room with a barrage of men between us. You always could arouse me without even a touch of hand.

I walked you home that night realizing your powerful energy and saying hello to a new possibility.

Tonight, I walked you home again.
Christmas Eve of Christmas Eve.
I walked west on 49th Street past the evergreen trees lined up outside the deli. I was wishing I could bring you a Charlie Brown Christmas tree and a bottle of cheap red wine that we would finish and eventually toss off of your rooftop. Then I would crawl back into your arms where your mouth would be barely brushing my ear as you softly whispered your woes about all the Christmas music I was forcing you to listen to.
I walked you home tonight and smelled your cologne with a hint of burnt hair from your flat-iron. Cosmic timing played a part and Coldplay come over my iPod and it reminded me of your laptop that sat at your corner desk in your bedroom.
I walked you home tonight. I sat on your old stoop and wished I still smoked. I sat there talking to you in my head. Basically telling you this story that I write now. Now that I think of it, I probably looked a little homeless and crazy. Oh well, I have looked worse before.

I pulled out a piece of the gum, chewed, and breathed in it's minty freshness. Then I said good night and hoped your nose was itching from someone thinking about you.