Scenes from the Promenade
what happened when I opened a window
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My apartment building’s clubhouse is right on the Hudson River, and there is a promenade where people walk at all hours of the day. Today, I wanted to get out of the apartment to do my work (writing, life, etc.) and sat down in the empty common room. The air was stuffy, and still, so I opened the window and took my seat. Taking out my notebook and computer, I realized I did not bring any headphones. Unusual for me, to be sure. To help me focus, typically, I would put on classical music or orchestral pop, maybe even a generic pre-made “writing music” playlist, but today I guess that wasn’t in the cards. Instead, through the open window, along with a soft breezing coming off the water, sounds of a bright spring day trickled in. I realized that a million stories were happening right in front of me.
A splash and a slosh, followed by a squawk. My eyes float, and I see two geese bathing (dare I say playing?) in the river. The goose voices vibrate into the clubhouse common room, and I wonder if, instead of squawks, they could also be called chirps. Small birds chirp for sure - and, with the weather warming, their chirps have been steadily filling the neighborhood each morning - but does a goose chirp? Does an eagle? Or a crow? If a cock crows, does a chic chirp? Is chirping reserved only for dainty, bouncing pipers and bright-breasted robins?
A Latin couple walks by with their dog. The dog has on a harness, and atop the harness is some yellow and blue backpack. The man, who has bleached hair on top and natural black on the sides, is much shorter than his female partner. They are both talking to the dog, who looks about as happy as every dog should be, and says, “We don’t need to do that right now.”
A woman wearing a pale yellow crew-neck sweatshirt is being walked by her black and white dog.
A woman rides on a pink bicycle with yellow tires, and a man wheels beside her on rollerblades.
Two little girls on scooters fly by, both wearing shiny helmets and chattering a joyous childhood chat. Another little girl, only slightly older than the first two, follows them by about fifteen feet. She isn’t riding a scooter, though; she is on a hoverboard.
A large man walks by himself. He is wearing sneakers, gym shorts, and a sharp black athletic-wear pullover. On his head, he has noise-canceling headphones. In his hands is his phone. He holds it horizontally, less than a foot away from his face, and arches his neck down toward the screen. At this moment, the sun is uninhibited the building of the Manhattan skyline glistens, but he is missing it all. He reminds me of the people from the Pixar movie Wall-E.
A hoard of young teenage boys (I think they are all boys?) ride their bicycles. There are so many boys that the people enjoying the promenade have enough time to pull out their phones and catch a video of them. They pop wheelies, blast music, and seem like they are having a great time with their youth.
The stuck-up Karens of the neighborhood scoff at them as they ride.
I hear another squawk/chirp. Directly below the window is a duck. And another duck. And a goose! It’s literally duck, duck, goose. I want to take a picture, but I turned my phone off to focus.
A thicc delicious hunk of a man runs by without a shirt on, and I literally get out of my chair to catch a longer glimpse.
A couple running from the opposite direction passes him, and I can hear both of them remarking on the glory of it all. The man says something like, “Well, damn!”
A man with a fat dog tugs on a baby blue leash connected to a baby blue harness. The dog is brown and white and looks like a pit-mutt. It has a long, happy tail.
A Black woman in her fifties and her companion, another Black woman in her fifties, walk a golden small dog. The dog is joyful and bouncing, and I want to sqoosh it. The woman says, “Good girl!!” exuberantly. The dog digs her hind legs into the grass and kicks, glowing with success and pride. The women are so proud of the dog.
A family of women speaking Spanish. There are two grown-ups with very similar-if-not-matching chunky blonde highlights, and a little girl slips on her rollerblades.
A South Asian father walks slowly with and his toddler-baby sobbing in his arms. He covers her face with his palm, and I wonder if he is covering her mouth or trying to care for some sort of wound. She continues to howl, and he moves his hand.
A couple with a stroller.
A couple with ice cream.
A man on a bike
A boy on a bike.
Two dogs meet, and their owners do not speak at all.
A woman with a bandaid on her left shoulder walking back and forth, talking on the phone. She looks like she could throw me across the room because she is very fit. Her physical prowess makes me think of CrossFit, making me think about Marjorie Taylor Greene, and then I want to rip my hair out.
A young couple with a baby frenchie. The woman’s hair is dramatically half-blonde from the shoulder down, but it is definitely grown out (as opposed to purposefully dyed that way).
An old Asian couple with their two grandchildren is the sweetest family story I will see all day. There is a little boy of about four or five. He and his grandfather have matching blue coats in a smart design. The grandfather has a bucket hat, and the boy tells him a story, expressing everything in detail with his hands. The grandmother has luscious short brown hair that looks like she designed it with large hot rollers. She wears a large, soft-looking cape and holds her granddaughter’s hand. The granddaughter has braided pigtails and is undoubtedly asking a question.
The ferry leaves.
Another couple with Starbucks.
An Asian woman in a strikingly bright red skirt and white sweater. She is with a white man wearing nothing but brown.
An Italian guy in a full black, crisp Adidas tracksuit…and dirty Nike trainers.
The water sloshes, glossy and slow.
An Asian mother and her white husband push a stroller that looks like it costs more than our car.
An elderly Asian couple walks comedically slow and holds hands until I cannot see them any longer.
A white couple in their sixties. The woman’s rusty red-dyed hair has grown out long enough that I can see the gray roots.
Two big guys walk with a golden doodle and gab. I don’t know whether they’re a couple or not, and when I hear their voices, I am still unsure. One of the men has pulled his button-down off his shoulders, and it rests in the crook of his elbows, still half-on and covering his forearms.
A young Latin family with a teenage daughter. She walks ten feet behind her parents and her little brother. She wears a hoodie and headphones, and it couldn’t be more of a stereotype if I tried.
Another couple with Starbucks.
Two bros ride by on bikes. They wear black helmets, black sunglasses, and black masks. They seem legit friendly.
A woman power walking alone.
The ferry returns.
Clouds cast everything into a shadow, and you can almost hear the temperature change.
Two blonde women - a mother and her adult daughter - speak in a Slavic language. The daughter seems to be asking an intense question. The mother has an aggressively high pony. Really, it’s not so much a pony, as it is a verticle fountain.
The man with the fat dog comes back.
A boy on a skateboard.
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