Zippy Goes to Times Square.
(originally posted 10 June 2010)
“It’s about time you let me out of your bag,” Zippy dryly remarked. “I was getting the impression that you were feeling embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“It’s not that I feel embarrassed,” I shot back, “I just… don’t want to lose you. I’d feel terrible if you got lost in New York City.”
“Well, whatever,” Zippy replied. “Let’s go to Times Square. I’ll even sit over here, by myself, so no one will associate you with me.”
“Oh, stop it,” I said, picking him up. “Yes, I do feel a little strange carrying a lobster around, but if it’s for a good cause, I shan’t feel shame.”
Zippy didn’t smile, but I think he did turn a deeper shade of red. He clicked his claws with satisfaction.
When we got off the subway at Times Square, his tail was wagging.
“How do you do that?” I asked, perplexed. “You don’t have joints that allow lateral movement.”
“You’re vexed that I wag my tail, but you’re not at all concerned that I talk?” Zippy said, with plenty of snark in his voice. “Just take a photo.”
Zippy pulled me along the platform, though suddenly stopped in front of the subway map.
“I want to orient myself,” he said. “I like to know where I am in space. I want to ensure that there are no pots of boiling water nearby.”
“Uh, okay,” I said, taking a photograph in an effort to change the topic of conversation.
“‘You are here’,” he read, his exoskeleton tapping the hard surface of the map. “I understand that the MTA will be releasing an updated subway map sometime this month.”
“Yes, you’re right,” I said. “How did you hear about this?”
“All refined lobsters read The New York Times,” he sniffed. “There was an article about subway maps late last month. I hold great fondness for modes of public transportation and was fascinated to learn about New York City subway cartography.”
I turned my head, ostensibly to cough, though I was really rolling my eyes. Goodness.
“I don’t see any pornography here,” Zippy remarked as he looked around Times Square. “I see… many advertisements.”
“Times have changed, Zippy,” I said, trying to position him so that I could safely take a photograph of him without fear of someone grabbing him and running.
“Indeed,” he continued. “Times Square suffered a significant decline for many decades following the Great Depression. With the current recession, I have concerns that Manhattan will once again plunge into seediness.”
“Let’s take another photo,” I hastily said.
“Did you capture the site of the New Year’s Eve ball drop?” he asked.
“No,” I sighed. It’s above the Toshiba sign. “I don’t want to lay on the ground to take that photo.”
His articulated appendages clacked with displeasure. Ignoring that, I picked him up and started walking south. Zippy’s eyebrows (yeah, I know, I know…) arched with curiosity.
“See that?” I said, pointing across the street.
“The burritos are better in California,” Zippy commented. “Why eat at Chipotle when you can eat at—”
“No, not that,” I said. “Below that sign.”
Zippy’s eyes widened and his antennae twitched. He began to drag me across the street.
“Behold the size of that lobster!” Zippy cried. “Shouldn’t this behemoth be at the Museum of Natural History?”
We both gazed at the rotating red lobster. Mobs of people—some tourists, some hipsters, some chain-smoking executives—swirled past us.
“Wow,” Zippy finally breathed. “And I thought I was impressive.”
“You are,” I said, noting his dejection. “You’re cuter.”
“Yeah?” Zippy said, his tail beginning to wag. “Cute enough to do some fundraising?”
“I hope so,” I said.
