Pies, pies, pies!

Thursday 22 November 2012

Her mother made them have the parade on. Oddly enough this was the one tradition that was lost on her. There was no interest in enormous balloons being led through Manhattan. No romance about it. No excitement or desire to witness it in reality. But there they all were, holed up in that room at the Gansevoort Meatpacking. If you dare use the expression ‘holed up’ when referring to that little drop of heaven, organising oneself for Thanksgiving, with Macy’s legacy playing out before their eyes on the television. It was hard to believe that creative chaos was taking place just blocks from them. When looking out onto Hudson st it were as if life had halted on that little island. No sign of life, not even a dog walker.

When they eventually arrived at Penn Station, having to hop out of the cab several hundred yards before the corner of 33^rd thanks to the bumper to bumper traffic, they were harassed and panicked. The city had seemed so silent to them that the mayhem that had begun to ensue was impossible to comprehend from their peaceful haven on Gansevoort st. They were thankful, on this day of thanks, that they had still made it to the station in time for their NJ Transit.

Her mother traipsing behind, they ploughed through the doors and down the escalators into a scene beyond their wildest dreams. Overcome with the sweet scents of apple, pumpkin, cinnamon, pastry and pecans. The combination of treats created a euphoric state, a slumber almost across the charged, chaotic crowd. A sea of people stood before their eyes, panic, queues and pies, pies, pies. Stood almost motionless they were overwhelmed with the inevitable, that today, Thanksgiving, was the busiest travel day of the year. But even so there they were one of the many hundreds stood in the middle of Penn station hysteria, pie in hand looking at everyone else, stood in Penn station hysteria, pies in hand. A moment only quietened by anticipation, love, family and pies.

Next stop, Princeton New Jersey.