Every Sunday as I walk to church from the 14th Street stop at 6th Avenue, I have the same daydream. Remember how I said the celebrity couple whose names rhyme with “fairytale goblins” and “reckless abandon” live on the same street as the church? Well, every week, I imagine one of them, or both of them calling out to me from across the street. I’m on the south sidewalk; they’re on the north one. They ask where I’m going, and I tell them I’m going to church. Then they ask which church. And I tell them the Mormon one, yeah, that one right there. They ask me what kinds of things I believe. Then I joke with them, only Republican things. They laugh. I wave them over and invite them to come in. They decline, politely. Then I tell Mr. Goblins how I thought the writers’ strike rally in Washington Square park at the beginning of December was really cool, and I felt united with the Guild, even though I’m not a member. We chat a little more, mostly about how much taller they are than I. We also talk about the stubborn winter and how long they’ve lived in the City. They seem really nice. I tell them I have to get going, and I shake their hands. Ms. Abandon stops me a second and gives me her phone number and tells me we need to do lunch sometime. I say I’d be delighted. Delighted, who really says that, I say self-mockingly. She laughs and they turn around to head back up to their home and I head toward the church.
Every single Sunday. Can you imagine? How lucky would I be?
I hope when my friends visit, we get to see some famous people.