Country Mouse

I have a vague memory of a children’s story about two mice. One lived in the city, and the other in the country. I know it sounds like a fascinating tale (not tail), but if I remember right, it was a study in contrasts between rural and urban life.

A few weeks ago I spent several days in Philadelphia and New York City. Sometimes my job takes me to such places, and I mostly enjoy the change of pace from my typical country mouse week at home.

My first day involved flying to Philadelphia, and catching a train from the airport to a stop near my first meeting. After walking a few blocks, I met the people for a very good conversation. Then it was time to go to my next meeting. It was about a mile, and it was a nice day, so I walked.

A few wrong turns later, I finally got to the right building and had another good meeting. As it turned out, my hotel was only six blocks away, so trod over, checked in, did some work, and then went to dinner not too far away.

The next day I walked a mile to the Amtrak station, and boarded the train to Manhattan. That morning I got an email saying that the main person I was scheduled to meet with had to cancel, so I had plenty of time to walk to the first meeting, which was a little more than a mile. Walking in New York City is a great way to experience the different neighborhoods, and while I don’t know a lot about New York neighborhoods, I felt I was in safe territory during daylight, so it wasn’t too stressful.

When I got to the second appointment, it turned out that the person mistakenly thought I was coming the next week, and she didn’t have time to meet. Zero for two. But, fortunately, her colleagues were able to meet, and it was a very good and very worthwhile discussion.

During my walk back to Penn Station, I realized that my feet were killing me. But, I hobbled onto the train for my trip back to Philly and found a seat. After all that walking it felt good to sit down. We pulled into Philly, and I figured since my feet already hurt, I might as well walk back to the hotel – another mile or so. It was dark by then, and a little misty. That might help explain me falling onto the street while stepping off a curb. The embarrassment and ankle sprain took some of my attention away from my massive heel blisters.

That night I discovered that there was a very large and popular club across the street from my hotel, and even though I was on the 12th floor, and the windows were closed, the dance rhythms pounded with great monotony until closing time at 2am. Even if my feet had been feeling great, I’m not a “club” kind of guy. So, I stayed in bed and turned up the TV to try to mask the sound.
Then the various late night sirens of emergency vehicles chorused around the area, lulling me to sleep.

When I got home the next day, there was something I hadn’t experienced in three days: quiet. Calm and quiet. Then on Sunday, there was beautiful, soft, quiet snowfall to watch. Cold and slippery too, of course, but very beautiful.

I enjoy the energy of big cities. Manhattan in particular vibrates with energy, and Philly vibrates with sound late at night. However, I think maybe I’ve become more of a country mouse over the years. I realized that at around 2am the other night when my heartbeat had become synchronized with the primal beat of a drum machine 12 stories below. I don’t know for a fact, but I think the city mice may have a problem with insomnia.