Be Still, My Beating East-Coast Heart

Travel is interesting for inveterate people-watchers. I saw so many beautifully-dressed men today. It made me very homesick for D.C.

I saw men in tropical-weight wools, in gray flannels. I saw khakis with a solid color polo shirt and a navy blazer. I saw white shirts, blue oxford cloth shirts, fabulous Pima cotton striped shirts. I saw twice-rolled shirtsleeves. I saw nice shoes. Yummy. Simply yummy eye candy. (I don't think I've stated here what I think is the sexiest thing a man can wear. I'm really displaying my cards here. It's when he comes home from work in his white oxford-cloth button-down shirt, takes off his khakis or flannels, and slips into faded jeans. Ummmm - double-yummy.)

Today I didn't see one man in shorts. I didn't see one man with a gray pony tail. I'm sure they must have been around, but I've gotten so used to seeing them in Tucson that my style-starved soul could only see the well-dressed, nicely-groomed men.

The captain flirted with me and touched my hand as I boarded the plane in Dallas. Do you know what that does for an old gal's heart, to be flirted-with like that? It's a zing of a whole different sort. Okay, yeah, I've been hanging with a pilot lately, and I know they're trained to do that. They probably have a log they have to fill out after every trip, and they probably have a quota of women they have to flirt with. But it was damned fun.

And the women. That was interesting also. (I ticked-off the young woman sitting next to me from Dallas to NY. I had the Mozart C-minor Mass on my iPod and was practicing, quietly singing along. Evidently not quietly enough. She let out an annoyed sigh and reached for her earplugs. My gosh, we were sitting right by the engines. How on earth could she hear me?!)

I maintain you can tell the women who are looking for men from the ones who already have their men or no longer care. The cut of the jeans (slim or baggy), the feel of the jacket (frumpy or style-concious), the haircut, the makeup application (or lack thereof). Do we, the manless-and-looking, emit a scent or a high-pitched dog-whistle-kinda sound?

Getting out of Tucson is always good for me. I can see what's going on in the rest of the world. And today felt good. It felt like I'm still looking and doing pretty good.

I'm sitting on the 29th floor of the Marriott Marquis, looking out the window down on Times Square. Fabulous. I'm going to enjoy every eye-candy moment of this trip!