Merry All ‘Round:

What exactly is so strange about a grown man alone on a merry-go-round? And why does it merit the attention of one cop, three photographers, and maybe two dozen squealing tourists and their kids?

Its Friday afternoon. I’m in Bryant Park, right next to the New York Public Library, sending off an article for The Believer. Bryant Park is the town square of wireless access in New York City, one big green laptop heaven.

I spellcheck one more time, hit send and it’s gone. A week’s worth of work nearly 6,000 written and rewritten words. And I’m done. I have to celebrate.

It’s a beautiful afternoon. The park is teaming with folks drinking, chatting, making merry. What can I do? I was tempted to dash across the Great Lawn in triumph but it’s closed for resotting and I try to only make a spectacle of myself in my hometown.

Then I see the merry-go-round. I flash quickly to the end of Catcher in the Rye and start walking.

“How many people do you need to get this thing moving?” I ask the friendly ticket booth lady. The merry-go-round is stopped. There is nothing sadder than a still merry-go-round.

“Just one” she says and smiles at me.

I pay my ticket and hop on board. A medium-sizes brown horse calls out. I grad his mane and climb on.

And I ride.

A merry-go-round is a joy when you’re all grown up and not terrified of falling off. You can ride side saddle, lean waaaayyyy back in the stirrups or even off the side of the horse and over the ground below. No one cares, especially when you’re the only one on the merry-go-round.

I’m getting into it, a few heavy leans, a “Yee haw!” or two. A couple stop and start filming me with a video camera. A tall teenage girl starts shooting pictures. The Bryant Park cop stares as if to say “Right, today he rides. Tomorrow he’s molesting todlers.” Three sets of children are waving. Folks sitting at the tables bordering the ride gape uncomfortably.

I have a great time.

When the Italian Um-pa-pa song finishes up, I slide off, thank the nice woman running the thing and head for the subway. It’s the best $1.75 I’ve spent in New York, the sun is shining, I’m free for the weekend.

If I lived here, I’d do this every Friday.

• Category: Looking Back