17. Fear and loathing in the big apple (part II)

Good afternoon to all my devoted readers. Today, as promised, I shall continue my pointless memoirs of the two years I spent in the big apple. As you will soon find out, the apple is certainly big, but itsurely has many worms in it (and some Mexican waiters waiting to
refill the water glasses of those worms).

Anyhow, I was telling you about my school experience, which was not really a happy one. However, my living experience was much, much nicer. I was living in a student residence place near the Columbia University, intended for grad students from around the world, named, how originally- International house. Each student had his own tiny room (as I was used to the luxury of the farm, with a fireplace and a Sultan-size bed in every room, it was quite a shock for me at first).
I was living in the eighth floor, and my tiny room was just in front of the elevator, ensuring me lots of free nightly entertainment. The house had some great facilities, and various bizarre activies. The most popular figure in that place was a man nicknamed HR, who was a
weird combination between Hugh Hefner and the annoying, though sweet grandfather you never had. He was in charge of most artistic activities in the house, such as Salon night (concerts), ballroom dancing, and ice cream social, which happened every month, including
winter, and in which he was serving some disgusting ice cream to anyone brave enough to go there (legend was that he liked to lick the spoons every now and then). These events were even more painful, as we received voice messages in our phones in his very slow, confused voice: "hello, this is HR. Today, no, sorry, tomorrow we will have... I forgot... All you can eat, for FREE!"

Most people were very nice and interesting, and it was such a nice relief to speak and hang out with non-musicians for a change. Of course, not everyone were equally interesting, and many times in the cafeteria, while your mysenthropic servant was trying to eat in peace,
a guy (usually Austrian) would sit next to me and start the formal boring conversation (what are you doing, where are you from, what is the situation in the middle east, etc.), and after learning he is working in a bank, I would start talking about the quality of the mashed potatoes.

As I said before, I was living on the 8th floor, where I met in my first year some great people who became my best friends, lovers or travel mates- some are even reading this blog right now! One of them, a crazy German guy who is now a reporter in a well known German
newspaper, told me I'm very quotable and had suggested me to write down some of my thoughts. In what has become a I.House cult classic, and the forefather of this blog, I have posted outside my door, every single morning, my saying of the day.
Some popular ones, which I remember- "blondes have more fun, they just don't know it", "drinking while problems may cause pregnancy", and many others became particularly famous. As my room was just in front of the elevator, it was the perfect location. After two weeks, the
whole floor would know about it, and after a month many other floors as well. I would open my door in the morning to see women in bath-robes (and sadly, men in bath robes) waiting for the latest entry and finally started to feel the sweet taste of success (well, I'm a little
carried away here, but it is a post about America, so please forgive me).

As for the life outside the house, I have this nice story. After one concert in Israel, a guy came to me and urged me to call his friend Peggy when I am in New York. He said that she is practically running the town and that she would be happy to meet me.
He gave me her number, and I completely forgot about the whole thing. One day, I found that note in my pocket and it out of complete boredom I dialed her number. It turned out that Ms. Peggy was the most important PR for movies in the east coast. On our first call, she has invited me to the New York premiere of the awful movie, "Memoirs of a Geisha". It was screened at the VIP section of the MoMa, and I was probably the only one without an Armani suit and a Gucci bow-tie. After that horrible film we all went to the fanciest Italian restaurant I've ever seen.
I sat randomly in a free seat, right in front of a thin man with glasses and a very fat guy. The fat guy turned out to be an executive at Warner Bros. (to my innocent question, if he liked the movie, he replied- "we don't look at movies that way, we only care if it's going to be successful. And this is going to be successful, except of Japan), and the thin man turned out to be the executive director of MoMa. Nice. An attractive lady came and sat next to me, and asked me this memorable question- "so, are you from the production, or from the New-York Times?"
My answer, "I am just a pianist", was obviously wrong (the correct answer, of course, would be: "whatever turns you on, babe").
For the next event, a premiere of Ralph Fiennes and Vanessa Redgrave movie, Peggy has asked me to play after the movie, while people were going to eat. And so, after the screening, we were going to a huge palace, and I was pushed to the black box, while all were entering the dinning hall. As it was somewhat humiliating, and I was very hungry, after a while I stopped playing (since everyone was already inside the hall, eating), sat in a free table and ordered whatever I could from the menu. I ate as fast as possible, and ran back to continue playing some more Chopin waltzes and mazurkas I never played before. Many people, upon leaving told me- "Thank you, Mr. Music", or "wow- I love Bach!"
When all was over, I simply ran away with the crowd. I never heard from Peggy again.

The second funny story, faintly connected to music, was after a recital I gave in a small venue downtown. A very nice looking lady in her thirties came to congratulate me, saying- "I felt like you were touching the woman's body all over... making love to her without stopping... Your music sounds so similar to the poetry I am writing... About sex and love making... Would you like me to read it to you?". Now, dear readers, very sadly I had a girlfriend that time, or I would happily recite her poems in my sleep.

Well- I still have many more stories and anecdotes from that time, but these will wait for the upcoming "hitchhiker's guide" section. Until then, be good to yourselves!