Bridge Over Troubled Water

The Only Living Boy in New York

The Only Living Boy in New York


"You're confirmed aboard Flight 504, Mr. Albright, and you'll be in seat 23-D; that's just past mid-wing. Here's your boarding pass. Please follow the overhead signage to Gate B16 once you clear Security, and enjoy your flight!"

"Thanks."

Rick's company, GlobalSafe Casualty, had saved costs on their semiannual meeting by booking a mid-week block of days at one of the smaller hotel and conference centers in New York City. Representatives from all eight regions would do a "meet 'n greet", make presentations, and share updates on any initiatives that were in the works. Since his presentation was totally cloud-based, Rick was trusting his laptop to the baggage guys. If anything happened to it—heaven forbid—he could download the presentation from any of the other laptops that would be available.

Rick followed the "All Flights" signs as far as he could, then joined the queue at Security. While he was more than happy to have avoided a 6 a.m. flight time, which would have meant a 4 a.m. arrival time to allow for Security screening, the trade-off of a later flight time was clear to see. Every line was full of would-be passengers whose forward motion was measured in inches, and many of them were vocally upset with the whole clearance process. Cries of "I've gotta take this off?!" and "I have to take that out?!" floated through the humidity only a herd of grumpy humanity could produce. Well, he told himself, that's why you're wearing slip-on shoes, a knit pullover shirt, Van Heusen slacks that don't need a belt, and you only have a basic change of clothing in your backpack. Anything the TSA guys might not like is in your suitcase and already on its way to the plane. He figured there was a smart way to do Security, and this was probably it. He turned the page in the book he was reading and got back to enjoying the trials and tribulations of a beleaguered game warden in Saddlestring, Wyoming.

One spaghetti dinner with Marybeth and the girls later, the game warden was checking his email, the plane was cruising along at 35,000 feet and Rick was sipping a Dr. Pepper. According to the onboard flight tracker, they were just about to cross into Iowa in the vicinity of Sioux City, which meant that Lincoln was about 115 miles due south of his current location. He looked out the window two seats away and sent loving thoughts to a certain house in the 40th and A neighborhood. He wasn't at all happy about having to spend the last half of the week in New York, but there was no avoiding it. Hal Branson had been scheduled to attend the corporate conference, but he'd been injured in a traffic accident two days ago and, to borrow a popular phrase from the sports world, Rick was the "next man up." It'll be an interesting three days, he thought, but I'd really been hoping to take some vacation time and surprise Sandy with an extra-long weekend. Ah, well.

A "short" six hours after departing Denver, Rick was checked into his room and looking forward to a light dinner, followed by an early bedtime. First things first, though.

"Hi, Rick!"

"Hey, Sandy! How'd you know it was me?"

"Well, there's that handy invention known as CallerID. Plus, nobody else ever calls me from the 303 Area Code. Of course, your phone's not actually in that Area Code right now, is it?" she sighed.

Rick sighed right along with her. "No, I'm afraid it's with me here in the Big Apple."

"I was hoping you'd be able to get out of going, but I guess that was a little too much to wish for."

"I know, sweetie; I was too, and I miss you more than I can tell you..."


[WC: 646]

Lyrics ▼

Tom, get your plane right on time
I know your part'll go fine
Fly down to Mexico
Doh-n-doh-de-doh-n-doh
And here I am
The only living boy in New York

I get the news I need on the weather report
Oh, I can gather all the news I need on the weather report
Hey, I've got nothing to do today but smile
De-doh-n-doh-de-doh
And here I am
The only living boy in New York

Half of the time we're gone
But we don't know where
And we don't know where

Half of the time we're gone
But we don't know where
And we don't know where

Tom, get your plane right on time
I know that you've been eager to fly now
Hey, let your honesty shine, shine, shine now
Doh-n-doh-de-doh-n-doh
Like it shines on me (Here I am)
The only living boy in New York
The only living boy in New York