My original plan was to stay out until the sun came up, a full 24 hours. But at this point, most of the air had gone out of my sails for this adventure. If the end of the world was coming, it would have to come and find me. My revised plan was to end this mission at midnight no matter what.
All day walking in Manhattan I noticed signs for $10 psychic readings on nearly every block. Here I discovered another one advertising a discounted psychic reading for $7.50. I decided to go in. I'd ask a psychic what he/she thought about this end of the world business.
I opened the door and the chimes jangled and banged chaotically announcing the annoyance of my presence. Ahead of me was an interior door, mostly closed. To my left was a narrow parlor furnished with two worn wooden chairs and a small, rickety wooden table. The floor was dusty, grimey with cigarette butts and ash. A male voice from the interior said, "she went around the corner to the store, she'll be back in a minute... just have a seat".
Okay. I took a seat in a chair, not sure that it would hold me, and found myself on display in a brightly lit store front window - a side show, like pictures I'd seen of the red light district in Amsterdam. A Mets game blared from a radio somewhere in the interior of the building. Radios do still exist. Five minutes passed, then ten. A phone rang...some inaudible muttering... the male voice said. "she says she's sorry...she'll just be another five minutes. She says she'll give you a discount.
Five minutes comes and goes. Passer-bys regard me strangely through the window. Suddenly, and without provocation, the Tarot deck falls from the table to the floor. I was not touching the table. No one was. I scoop up the cards carefully- trying not to look at them, lay them quietly on the table, tip toe across the creaky floor out the door down onto the sidewalk.. No one follows. It's no longer raining.
All day walking in Manhattan I noticed signs for $10 psychic readings on nearly every block. Here I discovered another one advertising a discounted psychic reading for $7.50. I decided to go in. I'd ask a psychic what he/she thought about this end of the world business.
I opened the door and the chimes jangled and banged chaotically announcing the annoyance of my presence. Ahead of me was an interior door, mostly closed. To my left was a narrow parlor furnished with two worn wooden chairs and a small, rickety wooden table. The floor was dusty, grimey with cigarette butts and ash. A male voice from the interior said, "she went around the corner to the store, she'll be back in a minute... just have a seat".
Okay. I took a seat in a chair, not sure that it would hold me, and found myself on display in a brightly lit store front window - a side show, like pictures I'd seen of the red light district in Amsterdam. A Mets game blared from a radio somewhere in the interior of the building. Radios do still exist. Five minutes passed, then ten. A phone rang...some inaudible muttering... the male voice said. "she says she's sorry...she'll just be another five minutes. She says she'll give you a discount.
Five minutes comes and goes. Passer-bys regard me strangely through the window. Suddenly, and without provocation, the Tarot deck falls from the table to the floor. I was not touching the table. No one was. I scoop up the cards carefully- trying not to look at them, lay them quietly on the table, tip toe across the creaky floor out the door down onto the sidewalk.. No one follows. It's no longer raining.
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