Mr. and Mrs. Teabody Go to Town

Image by Beatrix Potter from The Tale of Johnny Town-mouse 

Shiver, shiver, Gentle Reader. Little skiffs of snow are wedged along the cracks and crevices just outside the windows at Chez Teabody, but that is no bother to the well pajama-d and sock-footed Teabodys sipping on their hot tea and chatting this morning about the brilliant writer and illustrator, Beatrix Potter, and her take on Aesop's fable about the perils of life for the city mouse. Potter takes the original fable a step further having Johnny Town-mouse visit his country counterpart, Timmy Willie, and drawing the conclusion that "one place suits one person, another place . . . another . . ." which Mrs. Teabody - -who likes to drift around in a slighter wider sphere than some - - agrees with as she is always happy to find her way home. As is the affable Mr. T.

The Teabodys ventured from their  sunny-banked nest Friday last taking on the perils of the motorways in their brandy-new car which has as its single most important feature, satellite radio. Do you scoff, Gentle Reader? If so, perhaps you have not discovered the trance-like state inspired by Spa, the blood pressure elevating Fox News, the nostalgia bubbles of 60s tunes or, for travel, the short bursts of knee slapping humor of stand up comedy. Soon the train station drifted into view, the Teabodys were all aboarded into their favorite spacious seats in a brisk manner and the three hours plus journey begun. Mr. Teabody is always content to watch the world passing by as Mrs. Teabody loses herself in Pisa and London following the  fictional adventures of Barbara Havers and Inspector Lynley. With each succeeding stop, those coming aboard looked both more polished as well as more harried, and soon enough the conductor was announcing, "Last stop, Penn Station. All passengers, your journey ends here." The Teabodys are familiar with this largish station but, nonetheless, it is always a bit of a shock to be shoulder-to-shoulder with humanity's masses, to wend the passageways looking for landmarks and signs for 33rd and 8th and the taxi stand just across from the post office where RECORDINGS of predatory birds frightened REAL birds from perching upon the hallowed federal building. FIVE lanes of traffic exist at this juncture and traffic light with one clogged with an illegally-parked limousine, one clogged with a parked utility truck and one clogged with a van driven by a resolute, if lost, lady determined to pick up passengers from the train station. This left a lane and a half for the rest of the city to bottleneck into including the taxis coming to the stand. The Teabodys think there is nothing in all of Fulton County that comes close to this monumental traffic snarl except when a driver of an eighteen wheeler tries to maneuver from Lincoln Way onto Route 522 North in beautiful downtown McConnellsburg. In less than an hour and a half the Teabodys were able to get from the train station to their hotel a scant twenty-three blocks away which meant they were traveling at a rate of "do you have any idea how annoying this is?". This is not a blog about how lovely the hotel was. It was lovely. How delicious the light lunch in the tiny Russian bistro was. It was delicious. How wonderful it was to reunite with a dear friend from the other side of the country. It was wonderful. 

Six o'clock found six "friends by association" enjoying a wonderful meal together at Basso56 and as an ice breaker each was telling about his or her home life. Thus the Teabodys learned about what life was like for a chef in a major eatery in San Clemente, for a teacher in the wealthiest school district in the country, for an artist who'd just sold a painting for an amount that would keep Mrs. Teabody raven-haired into eternity. When it was time for the Teabodys to speak, something very like this popped out,

"I peep out at the throstles and blackbirds on the lawn . . ."

The Teabodys do. That is what the Teabodys do. And it is always enough.  Almost always. The dinner conversation quickly turned to the food  being served which was delicious and the upcoming play which everyone was keen to see. The play was twelve blocks south and once again the Teabodys found themselves moving like the inner workings of an amoeba and in less than an hour had conquered the less than a mile distance. Another passage  from Beatrix Potter's tale came to mind:

"Timmy Willie longed to be at home in his peaceful  nest in a sunny bank."

But stage plays don't come to McConnellsburg often and Shakespeare in particular rarely gets a passing mention and plays such as Twelfth Night and Richard III will never serve as amusement on the town lawn. Which is why one goes to the city. And gets jostled about in a surge of humanity also seeking entertainment.

Wonderful, enthralling moments and hours ensued. Lovely conversations, delectable meals, visits to every floor at Tiffany and Co. and  more than an hour at a rummage sale where among the "rummage" was a vintage linen tablecloth and a gigantic mounted walking stick so while the baby spoon and fork costing $150 each were left to languish at Tiffany and Co.,  the rummage treasures were purchased at a pittance and carefully carted to the hotel and tucked inside baggage.

Full of  brilliantly-acted plays and wonderful food from Dorothy Parker's beloved Round Table at the Algonquin and  with minds reeling with stimulation, the Teabodys returned to their hotel because it was time to journey home, catching the latest train. What would any tale be without yet another  hour-long  taxi journey to traverse twenty-two blocks and become a primary player in possibly the largest traffic jam ever witnessed in Times Square, or as Mrs. Teabody thinks, what is more likely a typical nightly crawl. Looking out into the faces of the masses of humanity crowding into the street, surrounding and blocking the movement of the machine that protected and attempted to convey the Teabodys to the train station, the Teabodys gave mouth to their longing to be home. The Keystoner departed on time, the Teabodys nodded and read. Three hours later in the darkest part of the night, they once again found themselves safely ensconced  in their brandy new car  heading west and home while the radio played  sets from a few dozen comedians  who provided distraction with their clever and irreverent commentary on life. Eighty-four miles of turnpike in just a bit over an hour, stars shining brightly, traffic at a minimum, the tension continued to melt away and at the turnpike's exit the Teabodys could have been the last two humans on earth for all they knew. From there everything was as easy as breathing  and not so much as a foot on the brake pedal was needed to bring the Teabodys safely home where the best dog in the world and their favorite bed was waiting for them.

Beatrix Potter, who reputedly LOVED country living says at the end of her tale:
"One place suits one person, another place suits another person. For my part I prefer to live in the country, like Timmy Willie."

So do the Teabodys, Miss Potter. So do the Teabodys.