I left the hotel at six and walked one mile to Amsterdam Avenue between west sixty-fourth and west sixty-fifth street. It was all planned, but it had to seem spontaneous. The whole façade was covered with scaffolding but the environment was still nice. New York is always nice, I can say. However, this was my very first time there. I was eighteen and I had this crazy and incredibly supported idea of cigarettes as a fashion accessory. I lighted one and waited. The weather was extremely cold for spring and in some news programs they said it could even snow. I tried to remember my speech. I am a tourist from Argentina and that is a very good excuse for starting a conversation. Asking for directions. Where to? Hmm… How about the New York Philharmonic? It was close enough for even getting her to come with me on foot without arriving late to school. With the cigarette at its half, I finally saw her. She was walking while looking at the floor, and yes, she was beautiful. I started walking quick and closed my coat. It was black as every New Yorker’s outfit, although I was no local.
“Excuse me” I said as soon as I got a few yards near. She tried to pretend she had not listened to me. “Lady, I would appreciate some directions” I insisted with my French accent. She lifted her head and looked at me at the same time she stopped. My heart was beating loud. I even thought she would listen to it.
“Sure, where you wanna go?” she answered with a quite deep voice.
“I… I’m looking for the Philharmonic. The New…” I started saying.
“It’s right there across the street” she interrupted me. I had to keep that conversation alive.
“Thanks a lot, so, right there?” I checked while pointing to the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts.
“Yep. Bye!” she finished.
“Oh, I’m so silly. I’m in Amsterdam Ave! Even THIS city confuses me. I’m a mess” I whispered while smiling.
“Haha, don’t beat you up for that” she answered smiling too, stopping again three steps away now.
“Thanks again. Tourists are always this bothersome?” I replied.
“You’re not bothersome, it’s ok” she responded.
“I’m Leon, by the way” I said offering my hand.
“Lola” she said, shaking it.
“You’re gorgeous, by the way” I told her while seeing how she slightly blushed. “If that’s a nice way of saying it. I’m not that good talking yet” I remarked.
“I think it’s the classic way” she answered.
“And what would be the nice way for inviting you for a cup of coffee?” I threw out.
“Well that would be waiting ‘til I get out of school…” she shot back.
“It’s a deal, Lola” I declared.
“I think you should say date… but sorry, I don’t know you” she alleged.
“Neither do I” I argued.
“Oh, come on, I’m not stupid” she brought out.
“Who said you were?” I asked.
“Oh my god, you really don’t know me. I tell you what Louis, I accept your invitation. Meet me at The Smith café in Broadway at half past three” she announced with a lovely New York accent.
“See you there, then” I affirmed. She smiled and kept walking.
Her huge brown eyes, big mouth, messy eyebrows and long eyelashes stayed in my retina for long seconds as she turned in the corner. That lovely nose was going to be my ruin, together with her long, soft hair and remarkably pleasing skin colour.