Page 31 - Contrast1971Spring

COME AGAIN
by Chris Poole

The day was hot and sultry. The sun filtered' through 'the smog that hung closely

" ,.,:

over the city. The noise was an ever changing crescendo of loudness. An average New York

summer day;
I was to lead a crowd of crazy tourists through the maze of traps that infest the city.

It was the usual type of crowd; several families, a few newly weds, a couple of old ladies, and
a swinger type. The rest of the-crew were ordinary tour type people. He wasn't. He interested

me.
He had that free wheeling young american look. He was tall, and dark b):own hair and

the kind of blue eyes that girls groove on, I wouldn't know. He, was dressed with impeccable
taste and acted completely normal. He still attracted my -attenfipn.

The schedule for the day called for a tour of the Bronx, Greenwich Village, NBC Studios,
lunch, a boat ride in the harbor, 'and the Latin Quarter for dinner and a show. A fun day of
hustling, bewildered people around, in and out of the way of other people who have work to do.

We traveled in a bus the company owned. I talked over an intercom system, pointing
out interesting sights. I stopped in different places to let them pick ~p the immortal souvenir.

At .9:00 everyone was ready and I herded them into the bus. The unusual character
sat in the; seat closest to me, which was alright by me. HE didn't seem like ap ordinary kind

of guy and I enjoyed talking with tourists.
"T~is~your -fi~sttrip to New York?" I asked him.
"Yes, I'm afraid so," he answered.
He had a voice like a good actor's, low with volume and tone under complete control.

It was cool.
"Afraid so, huh? That bad?"
"Well this isn't quite what I expected."
"Very seldom is." 'He had a pixie air about him, ~ike he was laughing most of the time,

at things I didn't see.
About this time we ran. up on a traffic jam, caused by an accident. It was a bad one.

One car had run a red light and sma-cked another as it was- turning. The jam up was pretty
bi:~and as it was still early morning, p~ople were in less of a hurry than at 4;00 in the afternoon.

"Is there usually this much noise'!" my new friend asked.