Stayin' Inside When it's Nice Outside

It was the first nice day of 2007 -- the first truly spring-like day. Sunny and 75 degrees. One of those days when everyone in New York City walks around with big, druggy-looking smiles on their faces.

I was looking for a job at the time, so I had a lot of free time on my hands. On this April day, I decided to table the job search around lunchtime and go to the movies. (Terrence Howard in a Speedo. Worth an afternoon indoors, I'd say)

When I told a friend that I had spent the afternoon in a movie theater, he scolded me, predictably. "It's the nicest day of the year! And you went to the MOVIES?" I just shrugged. It's not like the first nice day of the year is going to be the LAST nice day of the year.

And I had to think: "Hello, Kettle? This is Pot. You're BLACK!" This is someone whom I have never successfully crowbarred out of his neighborhood to come to Governor's Island with me one single time.

Governor's Island is a tiny little spot in New York Harbor that was closed to the public until just a couple of years ago. It's only open for a few months of the year, and only on weekends.

I'm always surprised at how uncrowded it is. Maybe New Yorkers just don't have much use for a National Park (no alcohol allowed and all that)... But really, it's 800 yards from lower Manhattan, the ferry is free, and it's got the best view of the Statue of Liberty anywhere -- there's really no excuse not to go. I've spent many a placid Sunday afternoon sprawled in the grass under a tree, with a book, a sandwich, and a bottle of Gatorade. Sundays are better, as there is usually a concert on Saturday. There are no crowds, no people with loud radios, no loud ghetto-girls talking and cursing in their loud ghetto-girl voices, no screaming children (can you imagine taking one of today's video-gamed, sensory-overloaded kids to a Revolutionary War site that offers nothing but its own history?), no food sold on the island outside of the Hot Dog man at the ferry terminal. Cell service is spotty at best on the island (or was when I was last there)

There is always a nap -- once, so deep and peaceful I had to run for the last ferry of the day, though it looks like they've extended closing time from 5:00 pm to 7:00 pm, so I doubt I'll come that close to being stranded again.

I take it back -- I DO understand why New Yorkers don't flock there. See, when New Yorkers leave the house on the weekends, they do so with the air that they have to be doing something. Unless they are getting onto a plane or train to some exotic destination (which may be no more exotic than say, Hudson, NY), where they might force themselves to relax and do nothing (right), their lives have to be defined by some activity or another. Going out on a nice day invariably involves jimmying an errand or two into the day. Stopping at Duane Reade to pick up shampoo, ducking into Petco for catfood. There always has to be a goal, or reason. Sitting quietly somewhere in their own city for hours on end is an anathema to them. I think they think it's wasteful or something.

Going to Central Park doesn't count, because Central Park actually has things to do, like go to the Zoo, the Boathouse, the Carousel, the Metropolitan Museum, Summer Stage, preen and be seen on Sheep's Meadow, play softball or soccer, ride in loops, go skating, take a carriage ride -- no matter what, the beehive of New York City is never more than 200 yards away, no matter where you are in the Park. Bathrooms are easy to find in Central Park (helpful bathroom hint for NYC Tourists: If you don't want to use the public park bathrooms, which have improved immeasurably from the days when you had to nudge drug addicts out of the way with your foot, go to Tavern on the Green or the Boathouse. Because they are on city property, they HAVE to let you use their bathrooms. If you're closer to the Met and with a group, have one of your group go in, pay a "donation" of one or two bucks -- suggested donation $12, but they don't blink when you slap down a single -- and take turns using the little metal tag to go in and use their bathrooms). But you are always aware that you are in the heart of the most lively city in America.

At Governor's Island, there is only the island. There is no there, there. (Who said that?) It's just an immaculately-maintained fortress with beautiful closed-up barracks and houses, perfectly groomed drill fields bordered by hundred-year-old trees (perfect for aforementioned lolling, reading, and sandwich-eating), a perfectly-paved perimeter path, and the occasional little concert or re-enactment. I was once surprised in my afternoon lollygagging by the sound of snare drums and military calls, and over a nearby rise a battalion of fully-costumed and armed "soldiers" appeared and staged a drill a hundred feet from my tree. This went on for about a half hour before they marched away, leaving behind only the smell of gunpowder and the blowing paper shreds from their cap guns. It's easy to forget you're in New York because the only sounds you hear are the seagulls and the occasional lowing ferry horns.

So, I make no apologies for missing the first nice day of the year when there are so many other nice days to come, and Governor's Island is opening on Memorial Day weekend, just a couple of months from now. And now that I've thought about it, I don't think I want to go with anyone else -- I think I'll just keep it in my pocket as a place where I go by myself, just for me.