Monday, September 15, 2008

We watched them get married as behind them, planes landed on the water.

It was the type of wedding, almost no one smoked.

I dutifully let the men's room attendant turn the faucets for me, pump two dollops of hand soap in my hand, give me a towel and take the towel, close the water. A crumpled dollar later and formalities.

Outdoors, from time to time water would splatter off some gutter on the roof and into some runoff chute into the river. This was the Water Club, after all. The perpetually moored boat, deck done up in mini-golf green.

The East River was just about the same color as the sky.