Defying Gravity... and the Odds

My clock stopped today.

For two hours and 45 minutes.

It wasn’t a battery problem or anything like that.

It was more like time standing still.

That’s because, today...

... I WON THE WICKED LOTTERY!!!!!!!

Really.

After striking out on Saturday Night, I highlighted today’s matinee to give it another try.

I figured it would be my best odds, since most normal people work during the day.

Math was always my specialty.

So I dragged my abnormal butt back to the Gershwin Theater to enter the contest.

A contest that awards about 20 front row tickets to lottery winners before every show.

Sure, it costs $26.25 per ticket, if you win.

But that beats the $200+ the people paid one row behind me.

Even during working hours, there must’ve been at least 100 people who showed up to enter the drawing.

At 11:40ish, I wrote my name on a green index card.

At 12:05ish, my name was called out.

From the moment the man running the lottery mispronounced my name, everything changed.

I know that sounds really silly, borderline idiotic, but something felt really special about winning this contest.

Yes, I do realize that I did not become an instant billionaire.

And yes, I do realize that this is “just” a play.

Even if this play has been performed on Broadway nearly 3,000 times.

Even if these are still the hottest tickets in Manhattan.

Even if the tickets were in THE FRONT ROW.

However, since the script to my life turned from comedy to drama recently, I’ve been in need of a boost.

And this shot of vitamin-W might have just done the trick.

There was definitely an extra hop in my step after winning the golden ticket.

Kind of like the time my buddy Dave and I bet on a long shot at the track.

Because we liked the name.

To this day, just mention “Flying Julia”, and you’ll get a giant smile from both of us.

Even if we don’t remember how much we really won.

I’m sure over time I will forget how much I paid for today’s ticket.

But I will never forget where I sat.

For nearly three hours, “the best Broadway show of the decade” was right in front of me.

Literally.

Sure, my neck is a little sore right now, but it was worth it.

For those of you who have seen Wicked, stop drooling.

For those of you who have not, OMG.

The music, the story, the sets.

This is the most excited I have been to see a green person since The Great Gazoo.

And I was so close that I could actually hear them sing.

Without the mics.

I hate to go all Ebert on you, but.........

The brilliance of this play is taking a story that EVERYBODY has seen and finding a way to make it unique.

Even my seven-year old has seen the Wizard of Oz.

Sure, Michael Jackson tried to ease on down the road.

But what the creators of Wicked have done can be summed up in three words.

Uh-maze-ing.

They weaved in the tin man.

And the lion.

And the scarecrow.

And even Dorothy.

But this story was as fresh as the first time I saw it.

Well, that was today.

But my friend Rick has seen it six times and he told me that if it was playing in his hometown tonight, he’d go again.

I’ve been really fortunate to see a lot of Broadway plays in my life.

And ranking them would be near impossible.

But let’s just say that once you sit in the front row, there’s nowhere to go but backwards.

Now I’m not really sure how much time I have left on this lucky streak, so I made sure to buy a ticket for the next real lottery drawing.

The winner gets $14 million.

I know what I'd do with the first $200.

Hungry Heart

I did something last night I hadn’t done in a long time.

Now there are a whole lot of things that I could write next.

And most of them would be true.

I haven’t gone to bed before Midnight in a long time.

I haven’t used a bench press in a long time.

I haven’t gone two days without dessert in a long time.

But don’t let my sense of humor fool you.

What I’m about to tell you is not funny.

Not funny at all.

Last night, around 10pm, I was walking home from Times Square... in the rain... when I came across a McDonalds.

Normally 10pm and McDonalds means I stop for an ice cream cone.

But believe it or not, I didn't have an appetite.

On the front step of the restaurant there was a teenage boy sitting on the ground.

He was holding a cardboard sign that included the word “hungry” on it.

I didn’t get a chance to read the rest.

If I were to guess, I would say he couldn’t have been older than 15.

Sitting in the rain, at 10pm, on a school night, holding a cardboard sign, in front of a McDonalds, asking for food.

I’m not sure why I decided to stop, this time, but I did.

Maybe it was a fatherly instinct kinda thing.

Now I realize that poverty is something that pretty much every city in this world is dealing with these days.

But in New York, everything is bigger.

You literally can’t make it through a city block without seeing somebody who could use your help.

Unfortunately, it’s so prevalent that you actually become numb to it.

It doesn’t matter if its a homeless guy sleeping on the sidewalk or one of his colleagues begging for coins.

We’ve been trained to just keep walking.

Sadly, I’m no different.

Sure, there have been times when I’ve dropped the coins from my pocket into the basket.

And there have been times when I’ve reached deeper into my pockets to hand over some paper.

But like many of us, I don’t do it very often.

For some reason last night was different.

I don’t know if it was the rain or the sign or the age of the boy, but this time I decided to stop.

I asked the boy what he wanted.

Without any hesitation he said, “a #2 with a Hi-C.”

You gotta like a man who knows what he wants.

For those of you who have not eaten at Mickey D’s since Super Size Me came out, the #2 is two cheeseburgers with fries and a drink.

I think it ran like $5.49 or so.

A small price to pay for a good deed.

Even though it was late at night, there were a bunch of people waiting to order.

So it took a few minutes to get to the front of the line and a few more minutes to get the food.

After I ordered, I looked outside to make sure my new buddy was still there.

Which he was.

With a few new friends.

Three of them.

All members of the New York Police Department.

I could tell through the window that they were not only talking to the boy, but they were searching him too.

It was about that time that I walked outside with his food.

By this point, the boy’s hands were behind his back.

Handcuffed.

Before I could say anything, the police told me they would give the boy his food in about five minutes.

When they got down to the police station.

I couldn’t help but ask what happened.

I was told it was illegal for the boy to panhandle....

...in front of McDonalds.

In front of this McDonalds?

In front of any McDonalds?

Isn’t that exactly where you should be asking for food if you are hungry?

Within seconds the boy was headed for the van which would take him to his next resting stop.

As I walked away, he thanked me.

And so did the police.

I was walking around, just a face in the crowd
Trying to keep myself out of the rain
Saw a vagabond king wear a styrofoam crown
Wondered if I might end up the same
There's a man out on the corner
Singing old songs about change
Everybody got their cross to bare, these days 

        “These Days”

            Bon Jovi

Wicked Awesome

Saturday night I did not win the New York Lottery.

I didn’t even buy a ticket.

But I did enter a competition with a prize package so exciting, it would make Bob Barker blush.

It’s called The Wicked Lottery.

As I learned Saturday, two hours before every production of Wicked, the legendary Broadway play, they hold a lottery where they award approximately 20 tickets to lucky fans.

Location of the seats?

Orchestra.

Front of the stage.

Cost?

$26.25 per ticket.

Say What?

Just click your heels three times and cross your fingers... and toes.   

To get as close to the Wicked Witch as Dorothy did, all you need is $26.25, in cash, and a little luck.

Well, a lot of luck.

I just happened to be walking by the Gershwin Theater, between 50th & 51st, around 5:50pm Saturday night.

I saw a crowd of what must’ve been at least 200 people.

So, like any tourist, I stopped.

As I got closer to the main entrance, I noticed a line at a table.

So I waited in that line.

When I got to the front, I put my name on a green index card, along with the number of tickets I would want if I win.

One.

Now this is not just any play we are talking about here.

This is Wicked.

The 17th longest running show in Broadway history.

HISTORY.

And at the rate they are selling tickets these days, its not gonna stop there.

More than five million people have seen the show on Broadway since it opened in 2003.

The show grosses more than a million dollars every week.

Last November, Wicked became the first show in Broadway history to gross over two million dollars in a week.

In all, Wicked is only the third musical in Broadway history to pass five hundred million dollars in total gross.

That’ll buy a lot of brooms.

Back to the lottery.

So I show up at the table to fill out my index card.

You would’ve thought the Soup Nazi was running the show.

Or Corey Hart.

This guy, wearing sunglasses at night, was barking out instructions like he didn’t want us to be there.

“Fill out the card.   Your full name and number of tickets you want.  You need cash and an I.D. with you..   When you are done, stand behind that green line.”

“YOU NEED CASH AND AN I.D. WITH YOU.”

He said it twice.

Everybody got the same exact treatment.

“Fill out the card.   Your full name and number of tickets you want.  You need cash and an I.D. with you..   When you are done, stand behind that green line.”

“YOU NEED CASH AND AN I.D. WITH YOU.”

Then at 6:00pm, SHARP, he closed the double glass doors to stop anyone else from entering.

Prepped the lottery wheel, which contained all of the index cards, and started spinning.

About five minutes later he came out and yelled at us.

“THANK YOU FOR COMING.   IF YOUR NAME IS CALLED, COME UP AND STAND TO MY RIGHT WITH YOUR I.D. AND CASH IN HAND.”

“IF YOU FILLED OUT TWO INDEX CARDS AND ARE CAUGHT, YOU WILL BE ESCORTED OFF THE PREMISES.”

Wow.

He’s just plain wicked.

Thank you, thank you very much.  

One-by-one, the names are announced.

And one-by-one, a sharp screetch is heard coming from somewhere in the crowd.

About three minutes later, the last name is called.

Without any mention of me.

Or at least 190 others.

At this point, all of the losers look around and mutter something like, “I never win these things.”

Meanwhile, a handful of people are standing in front of us with smiles so big their face is about to crack.

The winners await their golden ticket, while the rest of us move on.

Waiting for the next show.

And the next lottery.

It's All Working Out

10:25am.

This morning.

I woke up.

Hallelujah!

Sure, I went to bed at 2am.

But I always go to bed at 2am.

It’s the fact that I didn’t wake up at 5 that I’m excited about.

And the fact that I did it on my own.

My problems have not disappeared.

And they won’t for a while.

But it’s amazing what a little deep breath will do for you.

NOT TOO MUCH... or you’ll start hallucinating.

I mean hyperventilating.

Whatever.

The point is, a deep breath can go a long way.

One of my most loyalestest of readers was kind enough to offer up some sincere support and an over-the-counter remedy to help me sleep.

I thank you for all of the support, but so far, I have passed on the remedy.

I think its the idea that scares me more than the product.

But either way, I’m doing my best to move forward.

One day at a time.

My good friend David is not a pharmacist, but he too offered up a prescription a few weeks ago.

This one I filled.

He said while I am in New York for the month I should join a gym.  

Forget this stationary bike in the basement nonsense.

Good call.

To this point, I’d been using street walking and that bike as my source of exercise.

And so far so good.

Considering my amazing/disgusting amount of caloric intake, I easily could’ve gained 20 pounds in the three months I was here.

Hey, I could’ve gained 20 pounds EACH month I was here.

But somehow I kept it to five, total.

Or eight.

Depending on what time of day I jump on the scale.

But the fact that I have avoided a double-digit increase is the type of victory that deserves another slice of pizza.

With just a few more weeks left in New York, including the Thanksgiving Feast, it is more important now than ever to bump up the workout regimen.

Insert the local gym.

There are three things that don’t take a whole lot of work to find in Manhattan -- street meat, Starbucks and a local gym.

Affording that gym is another story.

Being that I only needed one month of service, I felt pretty good about my chances.

After all, how bad could it be?

So I walked around my neighborhood and stopped at the place where they are always handing out flyers.

This time they were promoting a deal of $19.99/month.

Perfect.

I only need one month.

So I walked in, gave them my vitals and said I only want to sign up for one month.

Whoa.......

You would’ve thought I was asking for a free yoga mat or something.

He loudly informed that WE DON'T DO ONE MONTH AT A TIME, then whispered that their competition across the street does.

In fact, the “other guys” have some $30 for 30 day thing going on right now.

Talk about free advertising.

Perfect.

So I headed over there, ready to go.

Filled out the form.  Name.  Address.  Phone Number.  First born.

Ok, that’ll be $89 for signing up, $79 for the month, $5 for towel fee and three billion for something else.

Really.

Ok, not the three billion part, but the rest is true.

Huh?

What happened to 30 for 30?

“Oh, that’s online,” she said.

Ok.

So, how about I sign up with the computer that is right in front of you.

Oh, “you can’t do that.”

Huh?

“So how about if I sign up at home and then come back.”

“That would be fine,” she said.

So I did.  

And yada yada yada, I’m back to life on the elliptical machine -- every day, 45 minutes a day.

It’s amazing what a little exercise can do for the mind.

And the belt buckle.

Pizza anyone?

My Morning Racket

Today I made it to 5:22am without waking up.

I know it was 5:22, because I watched the 2 change to a 3 on my digital clock.

Telling me it was 5:23.

Now that wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t gone to bed just three hours earlier.

Boy do I wish I could sleep.

I also wish I didn’t have that bruising feeling in my stomach.

I also wish my mind wasn’t racing like it was the Indianapolis 50,000.

I also wish I had five minutes of sleep for every time I’ve heard... 

“Everything happens for a reason.”

or

“This too shall pass.”

or

“Hang in there.”

or

Whatever.

Support is kind of a crazy thing.

We need our support system, and I’ve got a GREAT one, but sometimes that support system can get just too close.

It used to drive me insane when my dad would say, “keep your chin up” at the end of EVERY conversation.

I must’ve heard him say it 1000 times.

Unfortunately I haven’t heard it in eight years.

Coming up on nine.

It wasn’t his fault that phrase was his default way of saying “I love you and I hope that tomorrow is better than today.”

I would imagine my kids are tired of me telling them “I hope you have the best day ever” when I drop them off at school.

But somehow that’s become my catch phrase for them and I just can’t stop.

When I started writing this blog, I didn’t tell anybody about it.

I just did it.

I thought it was a really cool way to say what I wanted.

When I wanted.

How I wanted.

That worked for a while, until I thought what I was saying was worth being heard.

So, little-by-little, I told two friends.

And they told two friends.

Well you know the rest.

I love it that my friends read the blog.

I love it that anybody reads the blog.

I just love writing the blog.

But when I’ve got something heavy on my mind, as I certainly do these days, I hate the idea that I have to be careful what I am saying.

Now I do realize that I am way too deep into this internet thing here to be writing 100% of my life.

That’s why I have to hide my real thoughts behind a Bob Dylan quote or quirky baseball reference.

But the fact that I am still able to make my point helps me get through each day.

You may not know exactly what I mean, but I do.

Sometimes.

And that’s all that matters.   I think.

When I wrote about not sleeping two days ago, I certainly recognized that was exposing my vulnerability.

I also realized that’s exactly how I felt.

I’ve heard from a bunch of people since then.

And thank you for that.

I’m good.   Really.   I’m just keepin’ it real.

But there is one person I heard from that really made my day.

He’s someone I think of as one of my best friends.

We talk.  Not a lot.  But we talk.

But he’s on the short list of people that I just really like.

And when he texted me that my blog about not sleeping was about him and what he’s going through right now, that made my day.

Not the part that he couldn’t sleep.

But the part that we are all one.

I guess deep down my goal for this blog is in some small way having my words doing something for somebody.

I’ve burned up all of my minutes this month on my cell phone, and then some.

But come 9:01pm last night, when free after hours time kicked in, I went crazy nuts.

I think I spoke for like five straight hours on the phone, telling the same story over and over.

And over.

It would’ve been easier to hold a news conference.

Or write a blog.

But by the end of the night, or morning, I was absolutely exhausted from hearing myself talk.

It wasn’t that I wanted to tell the story over and over.   And over.

But rather the fact that I have lots of people in my life that wanted to know about my life.

And that’s a good thing.

I am so fortunate to have some amazing friends.

And honestly, my friends are quite fortunate to have me.

That’s probably why we are friends.

But in the end there is only one person who knows how you feel.

You.

People try really hard to help.

And people try really hard to tell you how you should feel.

Or how you should act.

Or how you should be dealing.

But at the end of the day, or at the beginning of the day, they are not the ones watching 5:22 turn into 5:23.

You are.

And you’z got to do what you’z got to do to make it through the day.

And I'z gotz to go back to bed now.