He came, he saw, he didn't hate it

Which is, by the way, a pretty big deal.

John got here on Friday night to spend the weekend with me, although he also came because he had a meeting with a professor on Monday at Lincoln Center to discuss his new teaching associate status at Fordham. That Friday, I had spent most of the day in rehearsal and performance with the choir. As soon as I got out of that, I went home, did some last minute cleaning around the place, and made my way to the airport to meet John. It wasn't exactly necessary that I meet him out there... John is perfectly capable of getting to me from the airport without my holding his hand. Still, I felt like meeting him there... he's come to see me here twice before now, and I didn't meet him at the airport then. I figured I could manage it this time around, just for fun. I took a taxi to Laguardia, and the cabbie dropped me off at the wrong terminal. Perfect. This meant that I had to take a bus to the terminal I was supposed to go to in the first place, and that took about forty-five minutes. By the time I got there, John had already been waiting a litle while, although not too terribly long, thankfully.

So no problems, right? Find each other, kiss kiss, go home? Not exactly. Found each other, sure. No problems there. Finding a cab, on the other hand, was a complete impossibility. This meant we'd have to take the long way home... the bus to the subway to a cab in the Bronx. To be honest, it didn't matter. We were both just so damn happy to be together again. We could have been on our bus/subway/cab adventure for twice as long, and neither of us would have cared. How strange, the passage of time in the company of a wish fulfilled. It passes, just as any other span of time might, and perhaps it feels just as long or just as brief. And yet, when we invest ourselves in such a way as to love the moment, it changes entirely. I could have stayed on that bus from Laguardia to Harlem for an entire day. I don't know that John would agree with that one, but I can't help that I was that happy.

The next day was the Fordham commencement ceremony... I had to sing, so I went off to do my thing while John stayed home and slept in. Afterwards, we went to Queens to have dinner with my family... Aunt Jenny, Uncle Willie, cousins Mark and Jane, another cousin, Allan (fresh from his masters program in France and some general hanging-out in Barcelona... what a horrible fate that must have been for him), and three other people who were friends of Aunt Jenny's who I don't know. Anyway, the usual ensued... food followed by crackaoke. When the crackaoke wasn't enough, Uncle Willie suggested we go to a Filipino restaurant/bar for more... um... food and crackaoke. John, of course, was the only white guy there, which I think he kind of enjoyed. I ate strange foods that were offered to us (acting as John's proxy), and we listened to a Maroon 5 cover band rock out Filipino-style, while frightening gyrations emerged from the younger members of the audience, including one particularly enthusiastic, particularly gay young man. Odd entertainment, but entertainment nonetheless. Hot fun in the city.

Sunday was a day in Manhattan for the two of us. A rainy day, but that hardly mattered... what's a little rain when you have umbrellas? This is one of the lessons I've learned during my time in New York thus far: if it's raining, and you have either an umbrella or a water-shedding piece of upper-body attire with a hood on it available, you have no real excuse for not going about your day. A street fair was in full swing (in a full rainstorm) in midtown, so we walked around out there, splashing around, bumping umbrellas with the other brave Manhattanites, eating amazing street food and making the odd purchase here and there. Shortly after that, the rain stoped. That certainly made walking around a little easier. We walked, shopped, walked, walked, walked, saw a movie, and walked. I couldn't have been happier. New York is one of my fondest loves, and I've never made any secret of that. But when John is here with me, it comes inexplicably alive in ways I've never known before. John's always been good for that... bringing this freakish sort of fantastic magical wonder into the mix, no matter where we are or what we're doing. I can't explain it too eloquently... it's so good, it's ridiculous.

Today was John's day to meet with the professor from his department. We got up and out with plenty of time to make his scheduled slot at Lincoln Center, and his meeting went very well, so we celebrated by, well, walking around. I showed John around the Lincold Center complex, and then we... um... walked around a bit more. Okay, a lot more. And it was marvelous. Really. We must have laughed and played back and forth nonstop for hours, between the walking and the popping in and out of shops and cafes... just talking and laughing and making no sense to anyone else in the world but each other. It was disgusting.

A little after 5pm, I put him in a cab and sent him to the airport. No tears, no clingy oh-god-I-wish-you-didn't-have-to-go-because-I'll-just-die-without-you-here moments, no sappy weirdness whatsoever. Just a couple of kisses, a big hug, and the knowledge that we'll be together again in about a week when I go back to Texas for a brief, week-long respite. So, then, what to take from the weekend's experience... the bigest, wildest, most exhilarating thing about the past three days? John had a great time.

Just as I've never made any mystery of my love for this city, John's never been shy about his disdain for it. He himself would have told you it was founded on nothing more than what he'd seen in movies, coupled with a general dislike of change. He warms up to the city a little more each time he's here, but never in leaps and bounds. Still, I kept hope alive. And this time, I think it actullay took. We both know things will be hard, different, strange, whatever. We've been young and stupid long enough to figure that much out. There's something different about this big move for us, though, something I don't think either one of us was counting on. John said it best yesterday, and again today, while we were out walking in the city together: "This city has a way of motivating you... of making you want to do big things." Funny... I've always felt that way about John. I know what he means, though, and I agree with him. We've always inspired one another to dream big, hunger big, and imbibe the most that we can from the world. If we can do that here, we might just be happier than anyone has ever been in the history of the entire world. I'm just saying... it could happen. Or we could just end up so happy that we explode into little pieces and pass into oblivion as spontaneously combusted love-bits. That's possible, too, I suppose. If it's alright with everyone, I'm rooting for the first option.