The Incomparable Mr. Shatner

And now, Let us all bow to that god among men -  William Shatner.

Mr. Shatner cracked my iphone. Well, not really. His presence cracked my iphone.

This Summer, the Leopard was invited on board the Intrepid aircraft carrier near the West side highway in New York for a screening of a new documentary, ‘The Captains”- essentially interviews with several actors who played “captains” on various Star Trek TV shows and movies – directed by the original Captain himself, Shatner.

While waiting outside the vessel among hordes of  Trekkers and Trekkies, a black van pulled out by my group outside the gates. Sure enough, emerging from its confines was the man himself. Rotound, balding, well-dressed and radiant. It was a surreal experience to see. This man, whom I have watched on various screens for most of my life, was standing 6 inches in front of me.  With that unmistakable smile, he offered a beefy outstretched hand for me to clasp. At that moment, my iphone slipped away, falling to the ground, and I could tell by the sound it made that the glass had shattered.

By the time I reached down to pick it up, Captain Kirk was gone. But it was worth it. For now, every time I answer the phone or make a call, the memory of my brush with greatness brings a tiny smile.    

Starbucks How I love ye

 

The Leopard has always had a love/hate relationship with Starbucks. At first, I hated the place for its obvious pretensions: The goofy “French” cup sizes, the snarky “hip” graphics, the total blanketing of all New York neighborhoods (in Manhattan, it seems there’s two per block).

But lately, the place is becoming more and more useful. They’re offering wi fi for free. So one can walk into any Starbucks and get online no purchase necessary. And I enjoy the subtle social atmosphere. Everyone comes into Starbucks now - from the homeless to the well-to-do. We're all lined up in front of laptops or staring blankly into iphones. The hipsters, the hip-hoppers, the yuppies, the buppies, the skateboard kids, and the Wall Street crowd - we're all rubbing elbows and sharing dirty bathrooms.

You see the culture. Yesterday, there were a group of people sitting near me who were discussing what sounded like their marijuana drug operation. A week or so ago, I saw a young man viewing what looked like to me bestiality porn on his laptop for hours. I've seen people argue, fight, gossip, cry and make out so openly that I felt compelled to give them directions to the nearest hotel.

There's something stimulating in the place. I find myself working here more and more. I’m writing this blog entry now in one. It’s better than the warm, cozy, safe isolation of my apartment. It feels like I’m part of the real world, for better or worse.