MERRY CHRISTMAS NEW YORK!

Radio CityMusic Hall in Christmas

Contrary to what happened at the beginning of the year, when I was terribly afraid of opening my mouth to talk and not being understood, by late 1967, I felt very comfortable moving around in the Big Apple. I could talk to all kinds of people, I would ask people in the stores for what I was actually looking for, I was able to buy what I needed and not what first came to my eyes, I was no longer afraid to ask and not being understood. I spoke a reasonable good English, I had a well paid job in a nice restaurant not very far from my place, I had two very nutritious meals a day for free at the restaurant, and I had completed my second semester at the U with a decent GPA (3.3), and was poised to get even better. Best of all, I didn’t have to eat my own cooked meals, ugh!

Our guests at the restaurant were mostly theatre goers, visitors from out of town, and even some of the actors and actresses performing in the many nearby theatres. I enjoyed talking to these people while waiting on their tables. Most of them were pleased to talk to me, and at the end of their meal, they were reasonably generous with their tips. At the end of the week I was making all in all, almost $250/week. Inflation considered, that was the equivalent to approximately $2000 in today’s dollars. That was a heck of a lot of money for a young guy like me, especially considering that tips were only partially taxed, and in NYC, then, as it is today, that makes a lot of difference in the bottom line

Horacio Capellatti, a 36 year old Argentine guy from Buenos Aires (a “Porteño”) who spoke with that nice sounding Buenos Aires’ accent Spanish, somehow reminiscent of Italian, was my team partner waiter at the restaurant. He was a very funny guy; he was always joking around and loudly making fun of everything and everyone around him. Like his Italian ancestors, he used his hands as he spoke, making his talking even more gracious and Italian like. At about four O’clock Tuesdays to Saturdays, we, the waiters and busboys used to meet in the locker room at the basement, to chat while getting dressed for dinner time with our white shirts, black slacks red jackets with The Canterbury Code of Arms, and black neck ties. This was the time Horacio used to make his own daily show, telling jokes and funny stories and picking on someone to make us laugh.


The emblematic Christmas Tree at the Rockefeller Center in NYC

On Christmas Eve, we were very busy at the restaurant; we have had two full sittings during our shift and as usual I was working in a team of two with my partner Horacio. By 11:00 PM, Horacio and I were exhausted after working almost nonstop for at least the last six hours. We had only one party of six left in our station and were desperately waiting for them to pay their bill and leave, as we had our own Christmas Eve plans to attend afterwards.

Finally, at about 11:30 PM, this heavy wine drinking party called for their bill, which I tendered immediately. They paid their bill, which amounted to about $150 altogether, and left on the table a $100 dollar bill for tip. As my partner Horacio (who had, himself, drank a few glasses of wine, as we all did) picked up the money and the tip from the table, he approached the leaving party and bowed his head almost to his knees, and with his eyes wide open pulled a wig from his head and let his shiny bold head be seen by everybody while loudly thanking the customers in heavily Argentine accented English, Spanish and Italian, waving his hands from side to side and wishing them a merry Christmas and a Happy New York!. It was incredibly hilarious, loud laughter came from all corners of the restaurant, and everybody laughed their hearts out, including our very generous customers who left the dining room as happy as they could be, and continued laughing as they walked down the street toward Broadway in their way to continue celebrating Christmas Eve. None of us had known, until then, that Horacio was as bold as a pool ball.

After laughter receded, Horacio and I split our tips 50/50, and after passing on a 15% to our busboys and giving them an extra $20, we were left with approximately $160each. I felt rich, so rich that I took a taxi to go see Anita in Hackensack, NJ, a ride which took approximately half an hour and 30 bucks. I felt like saying loudly, Merry Christmas, I love New York!

In my way to see Anita, I took the taxi on Broadway to reach 42nd St. and turned right to get to the Lincoln Tunnel. At this point I began to wonder about the imponderables of life, I thought about the day I had just lived through and the difference from my previous Christmas when I was jobless and wondering about my future! Such is the roulette of life, one day you feel miserable and the next you are the happiest person in the world! I firmly believed then, as I believe today, that there is no such thing as “someone’s destiny” or “someone`s good or bad luck”. Getting deeper and deeper into my thoughts, I was convinced, more than ever, that we are the architects and the builders of our own destiny. Our lives are nothing but the result of the good or the bad way we place every single brick in the never ending construction of our own life’s building.

Anita was waiting for me, she looked gorgeous in her brand new red dress, the smell of her perfume that night was the sweetest and most lovely perfume I had ever smelled until then (and remained in my nose for years), she had placed a big, beautiful white rose in the left side of her light brown hair, her lips were shiny red, which made her snow white teeth look even more beautiful as she smiled to me, her emerald green eyes were full of happiness as I finally made it to her place well past mid night. I felt and knew that her beautiful smile was for me, and for me alone. We embraced and kissed each other in a show of real love and affection right in front of her brother and sister.

Anita had been one of the cooks for the night and dinner was ready and waiting for me to start serving. We ate shrimp ceviche to start with, the main course was baked stuffed turkey just as we used to have it in Ecuador for Christmas, and we also ate a delicious cheese cake for desert. We drank Champaign and a few drinks of scotch and water, which helped making us even happier, we danced all night, wished a Merry Christmas to everyone in the place and exchanged presents with some of the people in the family. We partied until past 5 AM. I slept in a couch until past 11AM and then, Anita and I headed to Main Street Hackensack to get the bus back to NYC, as I had bought tickets for the two of us for the Radio City Music Hall’s Christmas show.

In my next posting: THE END OF A DREAM AND THE BEGINNING OF ANOTHER