High Fives

We lived in New York for about 12 years. Our time there was bursting with unique, often times utterly amazing experiences. Things I will remember forever, stories I will tell my kids about.

I've seen a group of guys come onto my subway car, push the button on their boombox, perform gravity defying parkour moves off the seats, poles and walls of the car then finish with a total of 20 consecutive back flips in place, while the train was moving.

I've heard a capella groups sing on the trains and subway platforms that have made my jaw drop. Seen a blind dude with a cane and an accordion swing the doors open on the train at the exact moment the lights on the train went out, mutter "Goood evening ladies and gentlemen" and begin hammering out the theme from "The Godfather." Eaten ridiculous amounts of fabulous food that I still crave years later.

I've also witnessed a guy on the subway realize his wallet was stolen, stand blocking the one working door during rush hour and refuse to move until whoever boosted it gave it back. Jawdroppingly, it  was passed over the heads of the insanely crowded train and returned to him.

I spent the majority of my time there either bartending or waiting tables to put myself through Alexander training and I also had a home furnishings business to balance my teaching income after I graduated. I've made seat cushions for a Ghostbuster's kitchen, taught Alexander Technique to a runway model, waited on Sidney Poitier, Stevie Wonder, Peter Jennings, Pierce Brosnan, Dolce and Gabbana, Kevin Bacon, Nathan Lane, Matt Damon many times as he was just finishing up "Good Will Hunting" and still unknown, Salman Rushdie, an inebriated Rod Stewart, Larry David and the entire cast of Seinfeld, spilled wine on Rosie Perez, and quite surreally seen both Sir Ian McKellan and Cate Blanchett walk past my house.

All of these experiences make excellent stories, but by far the absolute best part of living in New York is the day of the Marathon. Unequivocally the most fabulous day of the year. In my old Brooklyn neighborhood, Fort Greene, people filled the sidewalks shoulder to shoulder, several bodies deep. The guy who lived in the brownstone across the street from the bar I worked at would have these giant speakers on his steps and a microphone in hand, bellowing encouraging words to the runners and leading the crowd in cheers. He would be blasting C&C Music Factory, the Village People, Michael Jackson and every other up tempo 80's dance music you could think of. It was breathtaking, the sense of community and good will in that neighborhood, and all across the city each Marathon day.

It was extraordinary to see the world class runners in the first pack pass by in the blink of an eye. But even better was witnessing the other runners following that pack. The people from every country you could think of. The office workers. The moms. The everyday people with their names on their shirts passing by in an endless sea of feet and legs, collectively pounding those streets I walked every day. Bystanders reading some random stranger's name off their shirt, cheering for them as if they were a long lost friend, jumping over the police barrier into the street and offering a hand for a high five. People walking around handing out doughnuts to the crowd, water and Gatorade to the runners. Each year Alan and I would stand there, participate in cheering runners on and I would inevitably cry. I was always so incredibly moved by the goodness of the day. It gives me shivers as I sit and write this, the memories of the energy of that day.

I always wondered what that must be like, to be on the receiving end of those cheers and high fives from complete strangers. I guessed it must be pretty energizing from seeing the smiles cross the faces of the more exhausted looking runners, seeming to be lifted up and carried a few blocks by the energy in Fort Greene as they ran through.

The past two bouts I've been in I have gotten my own little piece of that marathon day magic, and I tell you, it's completely awesome. For those of you who haven't been, at the beginning of every bout the teams line up, each skater is announced and takes a lap around the track. Tons of people and kids line up and stick their hands out for high fives as you skate by. As you whiz around you are greeted by a wall of goodness, hands and smiles. Totally, totally fun, as amazing and energizing as I had imagined.

The morning after the bout my husband greeted me with a hot, strong, fresh latte. The wee ones were running around my kitchen in a derby direction line, laughing their little asses off, proclaiming themselves "roller derby teammates working together" and shouting out in very deep voices, "Numberrrr 40eeeee!! Maraud Lebowskiiiii!!!" Then they would stop very abruptly, raise up their heels and stand on tippy toe in some crazy jazz dance or kung fu stance, shouting "Tomahawk stop!!! Yeah!" Then begin chasing each other all over again.

After practice Wednesday night I had to stop at the grocery. It was 10:30 and I was sort of self conscious of the hot pink tights/striped orange and hot pink socks/deep purple Converse the boy had selected for me to wear to practice. Have I mentioned he is my dresser, the Jerome to my Morris Day, and selects my derby wear for each practice? On top of this get up I am completely drenched and still sweating, probably looking a bit bizarro and no doubt incredibly stinky to the average, non-derby bystander. I'm in line and I hear this huge guffaw from the guy who just got in line behind me. I remember the glimpse I had caught of him as I was getting my six pack and he was loading an enormous case of Coors Light into his cart with his bud over in the cooler area and I cringe, waiting to be mocked for my appearance.

Instead I hear, "Maraud Lebowski. Ha! Oh my god that is f$%king hilarious. Derby, right?? Seriously, that's the best derby name ever. Genius. Freaking genius. Amazing." And he goes on and on, doubled over and laughing, furiously quoting the movie to his friend who I'm certain has never seen it, laughing uproariously at the quotes I'm firing back and I think we are collectively kind of scaring the lone, slightly haggard check out lady with our enthusiasm. He's bellowing "Up top sister!!" and offering me his hand, over and over. He's vowing to wear his Walter Sobchak outfit from Lebowskifest to my next bout and I'm telling him about the purple Jesus Quintana costume I made Alan for Halloween a few years ago. We have bonded instantly, he proclaims himself my number one fan. Minutes later, I'm getting in my car and he runs over to give me yet another high five.