The stairwell going up to my first apartment in NYC, with five flights of cold, tiled steps, wasn’t very inviting. And the apartment I shared with my roommate from college had a lot of “character”. Like the cigarette smoke that filled our kitchen nightly, rising up though a hole in the floor left by an old knot in the wood, courtesy of the tenant living below.
But the location was the perfect walking distance to my first real office job.
One night after a long day at work, I was alone in the apartment. The tall, uncovered windows of our living room were dark with evening, and I turned up my stereo for full immersion in my favorite Madonna tune.
Shaking off the day, I danced “like no one was watching” to Holiday in our living room in front of the windows.
Eventually I noticed the silhouettes in the building across the street.
It looked like they were lining up, with more silhouettes joining.
Trying not to overthink it, I lost myself in the music and continued exuberantly kicking, twirling and grapevining back and forth in front of the two dark windows.
Until something occurred to me.
Tentatively, I waved, at what appeared to be a line of silhouettes, on a parallel floor across 21st street.
And all the heads shook and arms waved wildly back at me.
That’s when I realized the recruits at NYC Police Training Academy had been watching my every move.
But I danced on, to the end of the song, and got a “standing” ovation from my unexpected, and unintended audience across the street.
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