Participants:
| Scene Title | Hot Dogs And Irony |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The irony of two enemies who don't know it yet meeting, and the partaking of hot dogs. |
| Date | November 24, 2008 |
Central Park has been, and remains, a key attraction in New York City, both for tourists and local residents. Though slightly smaller, approximately 100 acres at its southern end scarred by and still recovering from the explosion, the vast northern regions of the park remain intact.
An array of paths and tracks wind their way through stands of trees and swathes of grass, frequented by joggers, bikers, dog-walkers, and horsemen alike. Flowerbeds, tended gardens, and sheltered conservatories provide a wide array of colorful plants; the sheer size of the park, along with a designated wildlife sanctuary add a wide variety of fauna to the park's visitor list. Several ponds and lakes, as well as the massive Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, break up the expanses of green and growing things. There are roads, for those who prefer to drive through; numerous playgrounds for children dot the landscape.
Many are the people who come to the Park - painters, birdwatchers, musicians, and rock climbers. Others come for the shows; the New York Shakespeare Festival at the Delacorte Theater, the annual outdoor concert of the New York Philharmonic on the Great Lawn, the summer performances of the Metropolitan Opera, and many other smaller performing groups besides. They come to ice-skate on the rink, to ride on the Central Park Carousel, to view the many, many statues scattered about the park.
Some of the southern end of the park remains buried beneath rubble. Some of it still looks worn and torn, struggling to come back from the edge of destruction despite everything the crews of landscapers can do. The Wollman Rink has not been rebuilt; the Central Park Wildlife Center remains very much a work in progress, but is not wholly a loss. Someday, this portion of Central Park just might be restored fully to its prior state.
It's not a bad day for New York. Nigh-50 degrees. Cloudy. It's not really that different from home. Except for the god-awful numbers of Yanks. But then, there's nothing wrong with that, since it's Yank-land. Dina's in her leather jacket, jeans, boots, currently traipsing through Central Park. It's supposed to be some kind of cultural experience, after all. She looks about. People watching.
One of said Yanks is standing by a Hebrew Nationals pushcart, eagerly awaiting her purchase, About 5'3", long blonde hair, wide, deep set eyes. Jeans, steel toe boots, and a men's leather jacket that's too large for her give her a doll-like air, and she thanks the vendor earnestly when he hands her a dog, smothered in mustard and sauerkraut. Well, she won't be kissing anyone anytime soon.
She's fairly doll-like herself. Pale, clear skin, dark hair, and a cute face that makes her look several years younger than she really is. Hey, hot dogs. That's supposed to be some kind of big thing here. She walks up, and says "One, please." Doesn't mention toppings. Not experienced there. The lilt to her voice is Irish, though.
Helena steps a few feet away, and bites into her dog. Blissface. She eats with relish - the emotional kind, not the gross green stuff and even makes a little happy noise while doing so.
Dina looks over, surprised. "They really that good, are they?" She collects her hot dog, and looks at the toppings with a slightly bewildered expression. "There some system to this?"
"There's probably a zillion combinations." Helena says. The girl's accent is neat. "Basic enjoyment probably requires mustard. But there's onions, relish, sauerkraut, even chili chili and cheese. Some people put ketchup on them, but I think that's a violation of all that's sacred and holy about hot dogs."
The Irish woman considers that, and adds the mustard. "How about for a virgin t' this kind of thing?" She looks at the toppings, and then back to Helena's dog. "What d' you recommend?"
Helena lifts up her own. "Mustard and sauerkraut, though it makes your breath kinda less than rosy." she admits. "This is seriously your first hot dog, or just you first New York vendor dog?"
"They're not so big over where I'm from. I mean, we've got sausages on a bun, but they don't seem to be the same sort of thing that these are." She looks back to the vendor. "Put some of that on there for me, if y'd be so kind?"
As the vendor complies, Helena continues to chomp on her own, wiping at her lip. "Go light." she advises. "That way you can scrape it off if you don't like it."
She takes a bite of it, and looks surprised. "That's not bad. Here'n I'd heard yank food was all bland." She looks to the blonde. "Y' from here y'self? Y' didn't sound all "Noo Yawk"." Irish trying to fake New York accent. Dear God.
Helena grins. "Originally? I'm from upstate. But I've been in the city for about two years now. No place like it, yadda yadda. Are you going to school here?"
Dina laughs. "No. M' here on work, really. Y'self? Y' look t' be college-age an' all that." She looks at Helena again, assessing her age. "Name's Dina." she offers her own.
"Helena. Can't afford school, I only wish. I'm on my own, I work." Helena says. She spots a bench, tilts at it with her head while looking at Dina and starts to stroll over. "So what is it you do?"
Dina nods. "Oh, I handle things…sort of a personal assistant kind a thing, plus workin' with electronics. How about y'self? An' I thought they had all these scholarship things over here?"
"They do, but." Helena shrugs. "I work as a bike courier usually. It's actually not bad work. I get good excercise, learn the city."
Dina looks back, a little amused at that. "They really have those, like on the movies? People ridin' about the city on bicycles takin' packages here an' there?" A grin. "That's somethin', now innit? But what d' you do when it snows?"
"You bike it, same as otherwise. They keep the roads pretty clean, and trust me, cycling keeps you warm. They don't have bike couriers in - where are you from, anyway?" Helena takes a seat. "Did your boss bring you?"
She smiles a little. "Ireland. I kinda thought that bit'd be rather obvious? Or if y'r knowin' it better, Belfast. I dunno. I think that lot would lose some appeal, peddlin' about in the snow."
Helena admits ruefully, "I'm not altogether good with accents. I mean, I know some guys from Europe, but no Brits or Irish or anything like that. And yeah, winter work is not exactly fun, but the pay is good, and we alll have to do things we don't like at our jobs sometimes, right?"
The brunette laughs a little. "Yah, there's that. I like the company owner I work for, but my manager's a fockin' ass. I'd like to see him have his ass dragged through broken glass personally. That must be one good thing about y' job. No one over y' shoulder."
"Ehh, the office manager's a dick, but the people I work with are really cool. And if you cross Midtown, there's a lot of cash for those deliveries. So the money's pretty good." Helena continues to chomp on her hotdog. "And hey, the job brought you overseas, right?"
Dina takes another bite. "That's good. And yeh, there's that. Tryin' to find a place of my own, though, right now. Not the sort that likes fillin' out a bunch of paperwork, y'know?"
You say, "Helps if you have a vehicle, but if you have a decent salary, you just have to stick with it til you find something. Good apartments in New York or a lot like treasure hunts."
Dina makes a face. "Got t' be someplace that'll put a body up without a good lot of questions." She sulks a bit. "I just got in, and not really any good settlin' in yet."
"There are some corporate apartments on the north end. Maybe your boss could you in?" Helena suggests. "Don't worry, you'll find something. I doubt your employer wants you homeless."
Dina can't help but look wryly amused at that. "Honestly, I'm not so sure that he'd give a rat's ass as long as I show up for work an' get things done. M' boss is all about the professional side, not the personal."
Helena frowns a little bit. "That's not a great way to keep someone in the job. What about your co-workers? Do you like them? A lot of times it's about the people you're around. Mine are kind of like a second family."
Dina laughs. "Wish I could say the same. My place is more'n a wee bit backstabbin'. Everyone lookin' out for themselves. Get ahead any way y' can."
"And why are you working there again?" Helena can't help but ask with a smile.
She seems to look Helena over carefully. "I owe 'em. And I believe in the work, at the end of the day." A smile. "It's important t' do somethin' you believe in. Even if y' don't like the people y' work with."
Helena nods. "That's true. If it's enough for you, and you're happy, then more power to you." Helena says affably. She finishes her hot dog. "It was nice meeting you." she says, balling up the little cardboard carton.
Dina nods as well. "Nice t' meet y', Helena." She crumples up her own container and tosses it aside, her lunch finished. "Maybe I'll run into y' sometime around, on yer bike." She offers a hand to the blonde.
Helena reaches out to shake Dina's hand. She blinks a little bit at the contact, as if she's momentarily confused, but otherwise seems alright.
Dina doesn't turn it into a touchy-feely moment…it's just a handshake, and then she releases…at which point that which was suppressed no longer is. "See y' about."
Any additional notes fall to the bottom.
 November 23rd: Something Said |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 November 24th: Do A Fairy A Favor |