Glocally Newark

“I’m sick…really sick…like need Dayquil sick…” That’s my date, and apparently he is sick. We were supposed to be venturing into the city to go see Sarah Ruhl’s “In the Next Room” at the Lyceum Theater. I received the tickets as a Christmas gift, and I’m more upset that they are going to go to waste than that he cancelled our date. I am all dressed up (and looking really cute if I may say so myself) with nowhere to go…unless I grow a pair and decide to go alone- which is exactly what I did. Why not right? I’m a single independent woman. I have my own apartment, pay my own bills, can change a flat tire, and have kept a cat alive for over a year now. I am part of the new Newark, and people from the new Newark are movers and shakers. They are independent, confident, attractive and afraid of nothing. So twenty minutes later my stilettos are clicking towards Newark Penn station to catch the PATH train. I’m going on a date with myself!

Waiting for the show to start. Only I would wear heels and a leopard skirt in the snow.

An hour or so later I’m being ushered into my seat and the show is about to begin. It is the dawn of the electric era and I find myself in the parlor of Dr. Givings’ home. His operating theater is the room next door, and his wife, a new mother, becomes quite curious about the moans and cries she hears through the walls. The doctor and his assistant Annie, relieve the pressure of excess fluid build up in the womb with a mysterious device that causes “paroxysms”, which are a common cure for hysteria. Just one problem, the device draws so much power, that it dims the lights in the whole house, and sometimes blows out the power completely. Mrs. Givings, lonely and frustrated over her husband’s lack of affection and his overwhelming attention to his work, becomes fast friends with one of his patients, Mrs. Daldry. Now I don’t want to give too much detail, but there is a fabulous scene in which Mrs. Givings and Mrs. Daldry break into her husband’s theater with a hat pin and treat them selves to some unprescribed treatment. And the ending is not only a heartwarming testament to love, but also includes full frontal male nudity- two things that any woman wants.

Walking out of the theater, I felt renewed, like maybe I too could find love like Mr. and Mrs. Givings found. As I made my way towards Times Square, it started to snow. I pulled an umbrella out of my purse and, in one swift motion, gracefully popped it open and swung it over my head, right as the speakers outside of Planet Hollywood started to play Michael Buble’s Song “Haven’t Met You Yet.” The moment seemed to have fallen out of a movie. It was terribly romantic, and I was actually happy I was experiencing it alone…

Off the PATH train and back in Newark, without having gotten lost might I add, I decided to take myself out for a drink. A few minutes later I walked into Arena Bar, glad that my toes could defrost a bit. I sat down at the very modern bar and enjoyed a French Martini…or a few. DJ Mav Ric was spinning and the place was packed with people dancing and enjoying themselves, and one of those people happened to be my “sick” date. Not one to take sh*t, I walked right up to him. “Sick, huh?” I shook my head, smiled, turned around, not giving him time to try to “explain” (read: lie to me) and strutted out.

I was happy, exhausted and maybe a little tipsy, so I quickly walked home for a “self therapy” session and some “paroxysms” of my own, with no need for a doctor’s supervision and no flickering lights to clue in the neighbors. Love is out there… I know it. I’m not going to settle, because, to quote Mr. Buble, “I just haven’t met you yet…”