I left the office in Midtown with every intention of taking the subway from 51st and Lexington Avenue to The Lower East Side. I didn’t even have proper walking shoes on. I was wearing some tanned colored Hush Puppies. I think they were Hush Puppies but I am not sure. I don’t even care if they were Hush Puppies or not. I just love the sound of those words. “Hush Puppies.” If I don’t own a pair I may just go out and buy a pair and then i can talk about my Hush Puppies all day long.
My office is literally a stone’s throw away from the subway station. The weather outside was hot and steamy. It was close to ninety degrees with a similar number as measured by the humidity. It wasn’t pleasant. It was, what I describe as New York City shower weather; meaning that you need to take one immediately after walking three blocks. My destination was four miles away, due south. For some unknown reason I passed the subway station and turned right to walk down Lexington Avenue. I still don’t know why I did this. It was as if my feet had mutinied against my brain and had set off on their own journey, totally disregarding all logical thoughts. It proves that it doesn’t really matter what you are thinking at any given time since the feet have a mind separate from the rest of your body.
It was blisteringly hot. My feet didn’t care. They were on a mission. I was sweating profusely and begging for them to stop and do a u-turn back to the subway but this didn’t happen. A hundred yard leisurely stroll turned into a four mile hike, battling the elements and dodging a few pedestrians and cars to boot. Before I knew it I had turned onto Third Avenue as I instinctively knew the walking route I needed to take to arrive at my destination on time.
There really isn’t much to admire on Third Avenue. There are a whole plethora of office complexes and below average restaurants and delis. It is a pretty uninspiring walk. I was reluctant to continue my adventure but the feet insisted. They would not accept any compromise. I started talking to them as I was walking, in a vain attempt at trying to reason with them but they simply ignored me. They continued to point the way and carried on striding towards Downtown. It wasn’t until the final mile when they showed any sign of letting up. They suddenly became tired and achy and were very irritable. By this stage I was so upset with them that I insisted that they completed their task. I was cutting my nose to spite my feet.
By the time I arrived at the Bowery I was drenched. I probably smelled none too clever either and I resembled the many homeless who had started to gather outside some of the more famous shelters that house them. I was furious with my feet for having senselessly put myself through this unnecessary ordeal. The blaring, torturous sun had clouded my thoughts and I began to yell at my feet threatening all sorts of punishments that I could unveil if they ever did this to me again. Without fully realizing it, other pedestrians began to cross the road to avoid me. The last thing they wanted was a confrontation with a disheveled sweaty lunatic who was contemplating self foot torture.
It was only when I arrived at the bar downtown, that happened to be the correct destination and I started to suck in the sweet, cool, refreshing air conditioning, that it suddenly dawned on me. Walking in New York City is a tremendous pastime. It saves on cab fares and the discomfort of overcrowded trains. The grid system makes it very difficult to get lost. The one drawback is that in the Summer, the heat is so stifling and disorientating that it plays tricks on the mind and encourages a foot coup d’état.
