Travels with Grumpus

I met Grumpus three months after I moved to New York. He’d lived there for a year and memorized bus and subway routes as a hobby. I knew how to get from home to school and back, but for everything else there was his number on speed dial. The precision of the grid system perplexed me: “Meet me on the east end of the street,” for instance, meant nothing to me; you’d have been better off, maybe, saying “Outside the checks cashing place, beside the Korean deli.”

This led to several frustrating conversations. When I’d emerge from the subway for instance, he’d say “Are you on the north side or the south side of the road?” How the hell was I supposed to know that? I’d heard that men evolved a sense for absolute direction back in hunter days, and that they can find true north alone in an all-white room with no windows. That explained Grumpus’ ability to navigate unerringly around New York City. I on the other hand was expert at checking out surrounding hotties unnoticed with my sooperdooper peripheral vision — which women supposedly developed as they were watching children while performing household tasks. I guess both genders made out okay in the end.

Anyway back to my story. Our routine reached its zenith one cold December afternoon shortly before we left the city for good. Feeling sentimental, we walked past old haunts, reminiscing. “Boy, that Empire State Building sure is pretty,” I pointed.

“Jesus, sweetie,” sighed my new fiance. “That’s the Chrysler building. If New York City was a course you’d flunk it.”

Might have been easier if I’d had help from the good folks of DC Comics who’ve reimagined New York City.