I would become one of those out of town imports from the suburbs who descend on Manhattan every Wednesday. There are the women's groups , the school kids with their teachers and the TDF, TKS, telechargers etc, all of whom get discounts. I would be a TDFer this day. First, I put Liam in daycare, as I decided he needed some canine company; he has the crazed look of a dog who has spent too much time with his human mother 
even my best imitations of dogs barking and howling do not equal the real thing. Please Mommy let me play with some real dogs. And in keeping with the "cheap" day theme, I am using a coupon for a free doggy day care day. I brought him in, the staff went wild; Liam is popular, we said goodbye, he looked bewildered, my heart hurt a little, broke, I recovered , so did he, he went off to his play day with the toys I packed.
Back home, I parked, walked to the LIRR, 20-25 minutes from my house. I no longer park by the station, as I got a ticket on one trip
(for parking over 4 hours), was shut out of the municipal lot another time (no more spots) and on another city trip, threatened by a lunatic homeowner near the train when attempting to park in front of his house. 
The houses near train stations are about $50-75, 0000 cheaper than those farther away. Why? because of the noise, the folks walking by, and people parking and heading off on the LIRR, like me. So these folks get the benefit of a cheaper mortgage and spend an inordinate amount of time in campaigns of rage against LIRR riders who park by their houses. I get to the ticket machine and there is a group discussing how to get the tickets. My signal to go inside and try the human at the ticket counter. I felt like I was on the "Amazing Race", trying any option to secure a ticket. Ticketman is on his cell, turning his back to me when I approach. No, that did not just happen! What kind of service is this? He sees me coming and turns around! A sign in the waiting room displays an attractive station manager with an earnest statement beneath her face to the effect that she will help if anything is wrong. A trick, ticketman is probably talking to her right now. I go back outside to try the ticket machine once more. The group has finished buying but is still congregating in front of the ticket machine checking each of their tickets. Why? The ticket buyer for the group announces "I thought my name would be on each ticket, as I used my credit card; My name is on my credit card; I thought my name would show up." Must be a Leo. We think and hope our names will show up on every transaction. I sneak a peek at my ticket, no name, just a generic ticket to Penn and back. Train is on time, the ride is routine, the walk uptown is uneventful, I am early. There is a Starbucks right across from the theater, I get my coffee drink 
and perch on the stool in the window so I can peoplewatch. What a watch it is! The day is cool, eyehurting sun
, sort of NY brisk, but you would never know as the passersby have not dressed for the weather but for being seen in NYC. Wispy skirts and diaphanous tops, North Face coats paired with bare legs and feet encased in warm Uggs
, Caftans, tee shirts and thongs, furs and diamonds and leather pants and very high heels. 
A show before the show. In addition, I can make up my own dialog and story for each passerby. Nice.The doors open and we go in. I notice that the audience is composed of a lot of older woman attending solo. Guess that would be me, I put my newly refurbished hearing aids in
-they have been functioning as ear plugs, not transmitting sound but now have been repaired. As I have told you in prior "Liam Licks" my hearing loss is virtually uncorrectable as I hear everything; but cannot discriminate between certain words. You say winter, I hear wiener. But I'll give them a go. Immediately upon insertion, I hear too much. The zippering of a purse is like a scream, the rustling for a tissue, like a crackling fireplace, and that last tic tac like jack hammer in the mouth. I will stand it. However, wait. A trio of women sit down in front of me and one is directly in my field of vision. She is not sitting tall but her hat is. I understand there are medical reasons, as well as fashion and cultural reasons for covering one's head, but this hat does not seem to fit those reasons. Hers is a woolly hat, which comes to a point 6 inches above what I think must be the physical top of her head.
I think that if the hat is tamped down to her actual head I would gain 6 inches of viewing. Is she entitled to her seat plus 6 inches of space above her head? A theater hat should be like this, no point or pom pom to impede viewing 
I now understand why Donald Trump has bought space above his NYC buildings to guarantee an eternal view from his window. So the play is ready to start. I can hear too much, see too little and am alternating between roasting
and freezing,
as we are all totally wedged, not an inch for movement. If I move to the left or right to avoid the pointed hat I will be snuggling onto a woman's shoulder to my left or right. Older women on both sides. The room darkens and the opening monologue begins- almost every word is a four letter curse. mostly F_ _ _ and S_ _ _. These words assault my fragile hearing aided ears with a velocity of sound like rounds of ammunition; added to it are the audience the sounds of swallowing, coughing and teeth grinding. What ever happened to "sound" teeth? I much prefer the Irish curses of "Feck" and "shite" for they seem more whimsical, and less angry. The play gets worse as more characters arrive with the same anger and tacky curses. I also have "clappers" and "laughers" surrounding me-those folks who (in my seatmate's opinion) are professionally planted by the management to laugh and clap after very speech, making you think you are alone in your negative feelings. Due to my magnificent hearing they seem to be all around me. Haha Haha hehe. Aroooooo. Clap clap clap, woof, woof. A cacophony of sounds, like bad acoustics in a busy restaurant. I am screaming in my head. Let me out, please. Then the Intermission. I am alone. I can leave and not return. No one to negotiate with; the beauty of the solo experience. The woman next to me says "Pretty tight in here" I agree and point to the hat in front of me, complaining "And I cannot see." She comments, "well, the play is awful, you are lucky" She offers encouragment "maybe it will get better." Maybe. I decide to stay. Nevertheless, I make adjustments. I remove my hearing aids, Aah, peace. The" f"and "s" words now sound more like "Feck" and "shite". The woman in front of me removes her hat-no, put it back on, please, I sink lower in my seat, to avoid seeing the players. The hired clappers and laughers are done; they have kept the crowd in their seats through intermission, so they can stop. We are captives now until the end.It ends. My neighbor turns to me and sighs "It did not get better." I just smile because it did for me.
I heard less ( no hearing aids), saw less
(found another hat to hide behind
), and cared less. ( I am writing my Liam Licks story in my head ) A NYC adventure. Worth it.Liam and I meet up after my Play Day and his Play Date; he rests outside enjoying the memories of his Play Day. He is content.
nothing like a stick 
crunchy
yummy, life is good. A NY day. Worth it.Woof, woof
