Zippy Goes to Bryant Park.
(originally posted 15 June 2010)
When we emerged from the subway station, Zippy shielded his eyes from the bright afternoon sun.
“Is that the famed Art Deco landmark, the tallest building in New York?” Zippy asked.
“Yes,” I said, snapping a photo of him as a few people in dark suits hurried past, casting disbelieving eyes on the talking lobster. “That is the Empire State Building.”
“But we are over ten blocks away from 34th Street and 5th Avenue,” Zippy commented after glancing at the street signs.
“It’s a tall building,” I explained. “The top of the spire is 1,454 feet off of the ground. That’s like 2,900 of you lined up from cephalothorax to tail.”
“Wow,” Zippy said. “I don’t think I could even survive under 1,454 feet of water!”
I’m not even sure how you survive outside of a moist environment, I thought.
“Why is no one on the grass?” Zippy asked, stretching out in the shade.
“I’m not sure,” I said, noticing the wire surrounding the lawn. “I think they want the grass to grow out a bit before the summer events happen here at Bryant Park. There was an ice skating rink here not that long ago.”
Zippy had already dashed off of the stone ledge, however, and was scuttling his way over to the fountain.
“I need to periodically visit something that resembles my natural habitat,” he commented, jumping into the water.
After a few laps around the fountain, a glass of chardonnay (it pairs well with lobster…), and a hot dog, Zippy and I walked around the block to view the library.
“What?” Zippy exclaimed. “Why is the library shrouded in… plastic?”
We both frowned. The library was indeed covered in a tarp and surrounded by scaffolding.
“I guess they’re doing some renovations,” I said. “That’s too bad. It’s a beautiful building.”
“Yes! How I wanted to gaze upon the grandeur of the library! To witness the fine architecture! To see, with my own convex retinas, the venue where Carrie was to originally wed Mr. Big!” Zippy exclaimed.
“Patience, patience,” I mumbled to myself, walking south.
“What? What?” Zippy asked, clacking his claws. “Lobsters watch Sex in the City, too.”
“No, I was referring to this lion,” I said, placing him on the plant.
“During the Great Depression,” I continued after I took the photo, “the mayor of New York named the lions in front of the library. That lion was nicknamed ‘Patience’. The other lion was nicknamed ‘Fortitude’. The mayor hoped that people would cultivate these qualities to help get them through the rough economic times.”
“That lion must be patient to tolerate a pigeon on his head,” Zippy chortled.
We climbed the steps and, after the security guard looked through my bag and asked Zippy to open his claws, Zippy whispered, “This place is gorgeous.”
I nodded silently in agreement. To prevent his clattering from disturbing the peace, I picked him up and we climbed two flights of stairs to the main reading room.
“This place,” I breathed, “makes me want to become a scholar. I feel smarter just being in this room.”
Zippy gazed at the high, painted ceilings and the chandeliers hanging down. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the large windows.
Zippy quietly tapped a claw against my shoulder.
“I should secure a book about childhood brain tumors. That’s my fundraising cause,” he whispered.
“I know,” I whispered back. As we left the reading room, people gave Zippy quizzical looks: Lobsters study here, too?
“Has anyone donated any money yet?” Zippy asked.
“I don’t think so,” I answered.
“Maybe if you took better pictures, people would be more likely to donate,” Zippy commented.
I quickly opened my bag and stuffed him inside. He laughed.
Filed under: Being a Lobster, Fun, NYC, Playing, Travel
