And so it is, in an effort to bring two New York writers together, I arrange a second get together more suited to Mary. Marcia is not sure Mary exists. They arranged to meet before Christmas and Mary didn't show up. To make it easier for Marcia, I decide we can all meet at Marcia's apartment building.
We are to meet at 2 p.m., which is generally the time of day when Marcia takes a break from her work. Marcia gives clear instructions as to time and where and how long she will wait and where we will walk in case someone is late.
Knowing Marcia is a stickler for time, as I am as well, likely from years of meeting newspaper deadlines, I'm at Marcia's twenty minutes early. Rather than entering the apartment building and asking the doorman to ring up Marcia, I sit in a pleasant little park next to Marcia's apartment building.
New York is full of places people can sit and enjoy the day.
I fall asleep for a few moments and wake up wondering where I am, but soon remember. At precisely 2 p.m. I enter the apartment building, explain to the doorman who I'm there to see and wait for Marcia. After a few minutes I ask the doorman to ring her apartment. He tells me she will be down shortly.
Mary is a no show. Marcia doesn't want to wait for Mary. We begin our walk to a park.
Marcia and I walk down to the river and sit on a bench in the shade. This time Marcia has bread to feed the pigeons. She tells me pigeons have facial recognition and she has a particular pigeon friend that knows her. From this time forward, I will look more kindly upon pigeons.
"You're not my friend," she tells a pigeon and feeds it some bread, but leaves some for her friend.
Her friend arrives, but then another pigeon looking identical to the friend pigeon arrives. Marcia doesn't know which pigeon is her friend. Pigeons have facial recognition, but Marcia lacks pigeon recognition. Oh well, somehow this is not important.
On our way back to Marcia's apartment building we encounter a T.J. Max store. I haven't completed my shopping, and T.J. Max is on the list of suggested stores my friend, former New Yorker and current fashionista, Joan, emailed me.
Marcia is not impressed with T.J. Max. I say, "But my friend is." Marcia leaves to get back to her writing, she is almost finished her prion article, and I go shopping at T.J. Max, which I prefer to Century 21 and Macy's.
Mary will tell us she missed her connections because the bus was late. Mary will email me that Marcia doesn't understand and she suggests the two of us make arrangements to get together, just the two of us. I decline her offer, my time in New York is short and there are a lot of things to see and do.
And so it is, my attempts to bring them together fail.