Leia Takes Manhattan

We're adopting new identities for our trip to New York City. Big cities do this to me. No one knows me there, so we can be whoever we want and no one would be the wiser. Unless we suck at our new identities, of course, which is entirely possible considering I'm going as the much-taller, much-darker, much-sportier Derek Jeter, the epitome of New York Cool.

Actually, I'm going as myself, the impersonation I do best. Myself even patched his favorite jeans with like 15 little iron-on patches just in case he doesn't feel his true self, which wouldn't happen in crisp new jeans. Luckily, though, NYC is the place to go to be yourself. Maybe that's why "conservative" people frown down on "dem big liberal cities and their city slicker ways" — big cities are the beacons of hope for people to go to turn loose without fear of judgment or reprisal.

Several cases in point: Last time I was in New York City, I saw a bum pooping on a sidewalk. I saw a man practicing tae kwon do all by his lonesome in a full business suit in the grass at Union Square. I saw a group of Hasidic Jews, fur hats and all, arguing in the middle of a crosswalk. I saw a woman in a skirt dangerously maneuver through traffic ... on a bike ... in the rain ... on a cell phone (!!!). Point is, New York City is a place where people do what they want, how they want it. Even the guy pooping seemed well aware of this as we strolled past drawing his wrath for noticing his excellent form and technique on such a challenging set of steps.

In Arizona, the space is so large and so sprawled out, that people tend to notice these things quicker, and then pass judgment on them. If a man practiced martial arts by himself in public on any sort of lawn in AZ, it would make the front page. I know this because I've actually photographed sightings like this for reporters, who then turned it into news copy on prime news real estate on our front page. (Although, I have to admit that Sara and I went to Adults Night Out at the Arizona Science Center on Friday night and we were able to turn loose without feeling like weirdos. Please see the attached photo of Sara peering into a glass typhoon.) But in NYC, the weirdness is just life. The tae kwon do man, the pooper, the fearless biker, the bickering Jews ... everyone is a gear within the city, and all of them help make it turn.

We were discussing this notion of becoming other people as a joke. I think it started with that Alicia Keys line in Jay-Z's "Empire State of Mind": Concrete jungle where dreams are made of / There's nothing you can't do. (New Yorkers probably hate that song by now, but I still love it.) Alicia is right, though: there's nothing you can't do, except maybe poop on sidewalks.

And speaking of the song, I must dissect one particular line, which I hate. Jay raps: I made the Yankee hat more famous than a Yankee can. As Sara would say, " What the what?!?!" Does Jay not know about Mickey Mantle, Lou Gehrig, Joe Dimaggio, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra, and, uh, this semi-professional minor league hack named Babe Freakin' Ruth? Oh yeah, and Jeter/Me? Surely Jay-Z made the sloppy, over-the-ears, don't-cut-the-tags-off, sticker-on-the-bill, sideways Yankees hat more famous than a Yankee did. But when it comes to hats worn like men, only Yankees can be thanked there.

As for Sara and her alternate identity. She's going as herself as well. Although, I made some strong suggestions that she go as Princess Leia after she accidentally wore the Leia Bun several weeks back. She vetoed my suggestions. I still have three days to convince her otherwise. Wish me luck.