Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

At dawn, Miguel, Sara and Cece were huddled amongst an overabundance of luggage in an Uber van. Their jet awaited at Santa Fe Regional Airport for the flight to Teterboro, New Jersey. Upon arrival, another van would chauffeur them to the Four Seasons, Manhattan, to spend the night before taping the GBUSA show on Tuesday.
The girls were filming as they rolled through the security gate and pulled onto the hanger apron, next to a gleaming white jet. Royal blue carpet led to, and then up, the boarding stairs.
The captain and a flight attendant greeted them while their bags were being stowed. At the top of the stairs, another attendant welcomed them with champagne.
"Sure beats the security line at ABQ. What's our flight time?” Miguel asked.
"We'll see New Jersey in under three hours. Once everyone is refreshed and buckled up, we'll get underway,” said the attendant.

The anticipation was palatable as they taxied onto the runway. A brief pause as the engines gained maximum thrust before catapulting them down the runway. Tires lifted from the tarmac at 145 mph., then they went nearly vertical, as six thousand pounds of thrust molded them into their seats. No comments were needed; their looks said it all.
"Now I understand why people say this is the hardest habit to give up,” said Cece.
"Shit eating grins all around,” Miguel laughed to himself.

The jet leveled out, the seatbelt light blinked off, and an attendant delivered a charcuterie board, plates, and cutlery before asking each of them what they would like to drink.
"Aisha is having one of her PR assistants meet us at the airport. Her name is Alissa. She's going to bring us up to date on everything during the drive into Manhattan,” said Cece.
"What's the word on wardrobe?” Miguel asked.
"Nobody mentioned anything to me,” said Cece.
"It's okay, I packed some things just in case,” said Sara.
"We land about eleven. How long is the drive to Manhattan?H Miguel asked an attendant.
"Thirty to forty minutes, you should be at your hotel by noon,” she said.

Miguel's mind wandered as racing through the clouds. Living the dream? Not something he was aspiring to, but he hoped that the experience wouldn't change him. People often told him that visiting Santa Fe had changed them, even though they couldn't, or wouldn't, ever come to live there.
"Honey, get a picture of me living the dream,” Miguel tipped his champagne glass towards her.
"Okay, and I'm next,” she said.
"Me too,” said Cece.

Sooner than they wished, the jet began the descent into the jaws of urban life: New Jersey. When the Gulfstream's landing gear touched the tarmac Cece freaked. She was a mere six feet above the runway.
"Like flying in a sportscar,” was all she could say.

Another black Uber van waited at the hangar. While the driver, as big as a bear, loaded the luggage, Aisha's PR assistant, Alissa, introduced herself before they steered toward Manhattan.

Alissa began her briefing. "The Four Seasons is on East 57th and the Good Morning America studios are in Times Square. It's too far to walk tomorrow, so they will send a car to pick us up.”
"Will we be seeing Aisha before the shoot tomorrow?” Miguel asked.
"Of course, we're all going to have lunch at the hotel once you're checked in. We have a lot to talk about. The call time is 8 a.m., and the studio car will pick us up at 7:30 a.m.,” said Alissa.
The van maneuvered through light midtown traffic, arriving at the hotel just before noon. They checked in, freshened up, and were seated with Aisha for lunch at the Garden Restaurant overlooking the marble floors of the atrium lobby. All within thirty minutes.
New York is very efficient. Miguel thought.

"Welcome to New York, are you all ready to enjoy a bite of the Big Apple?” Aisha asked, greeting them with a smile.
"You're spoiling us Aisha,” said Miguel.
"Yes, today. But tomorrow it's going to be you, alone, on stage. We're expecting a great performance,” said Aisha.
"The Good Morning America producer's name is Matt; he's a fair producer, but he has a bit of a reputation. Cece, don't be surprised if he tries to hit on you,” said Alissa.
"Thanks for the heads up.”
"Anything we need to know about the wardrobe?” asked Sara.
"Wear neutrals, no weird checks, stripes, or bright colors. A simple shirt with slacks, or even jeans, is fine,” said Alissa.
"I brought my artist's get up,” Miguel announced.
"Not on your life!” Sara quickly interrupted with an evil look.
"Okay, okay. I get it. I also brought the art supplies I'll need, so that's handled. Is there a script, or a list of questions?” Miguel asked.
"No, it's not live, we'll have rehearsal before the taping. They have copies of the videos we want them to use, and some narration, if they want it,” Alissa said.
"I'm curious, have any of you visited New York before?” Aisha asked.
"I used to attend the Art Expo back in the eighties,” said Miguel.
Cece and Sara both shook their heads, no.
"In that case, take the afternoon. Enjoy some sightseeing. From the hotel you can walk to Central Park, the MOMA, or Fifth Avenue; they're all close. But get plenty of rest tonight. We need all of you in top form tomorrow,” said Aisha.

With lunch wrapped up, they decided to have a wander, and set out with Central Park as a destination. With the park in sight, they got distracted by the horse and carriage rigs parked outside the Plaza Hotel.
"Look, the Plaza, a landmark if there ever was one. Is anyone up for a drink?” asked Sara.
Cece opened the doors of the Champagne Bar, intent on a gin and tonic, but the white-gloved maitre d'hotel nixed Miguel's wardrobe. Not up to their standards. Back outside, the heat and humidity hit them like a wet towel snapped in a gym. Talking to a passerby, Miguel, learned that the Central Park had a zoo, nearby and worthy of a visit. They agreed to head into the wilds of Central Park to seek out the zoo, rather than risk rejection by another maitre de.
When the zoo closed at dusk, a taxi returned them to the hotel for dinner. They settled on the Garden restaurant again since the food and ambiance at lunch left nothing to be desired. After a long day and a wonderful dinner, it was lights out at nine; early start tomorrow.

The morning's peace was shattered by alarms, sirens, and telephones. Alissa met them in the lobby just before the limo pulled up and they were ushered into the rear by a doorman.

Rolling through the light pre-holiday traffic, the car pulled into the studio garage at seven fifty a.m. A production assistant met the car and escorted the four of them into the studio. Matt, the horny producer, was waiting. Too short for me, Cece decided.
"Good morning. Welcome to Good Morning America,” said Matt, holding his hand out to each of them in order. "We have coffee and breakfast fixings for anyone who feels the need,” he nodded toward a table behind him.
"Thanks, Matt, a coffee and a croissant would be perfect,” said Sara.

A PA sprang into action, delivering Sara's coffee and croissant while Miguel, Alissa, and Matt huddled about the procedure for taping the segment. They planned to use the existing video of Jake Hanson, and a pre-recorded voice-over about Miguel's Santa Fe opening. They only needed to shoot the sit-down Q&A, which was going to be handled by Allie Roush, then they would shoot Miguel sketching Allie. They had already set up a tabletop easel by the big window to the street and a PA was miking Miguel.

Allie Roush emerged from the shadows and said hello to each of them individually. Everyone agreed she was very nice. She had a list of questions for Alissa, who walked over to share them with Miguel.
"This is great, you get what it was all about, Allie” said Miguel, glancing through them in admiration.
"We can start anytime you're ready,” said Allie.
"Where do you want me?” asked Miguel.
"Right here, please,” Allie gestured to a pair of chairs, on a patch of carpet with the big windows as a backdrop.
Miguel and Allie sat down as the crew worked the lighting and positioned the cameras. When everything was ready, Matt gave Allie a nod.
"I want to welcome Miguelangelo to Good Morning America today,” Amy began.

Miguel and Allie hit it off right from the start, and the interview went as smoothly as butter on hot toast, as Miguel's mother used to say. The easy banter had Matt smiling, and before he knew it, Miguel was seated behind the little easel, charcoal in hand, while the crowd on the street looked over his shoulder as he worked.

"Allie, having never met you, you were a blank slate to me until today,” Miguel started. He took his charcoal and created a big black blob in the rough shape of a head in the center of the paper.
"I had conflicting emotions about today, the show, and you; all of those feelings and emotions are reflected in this mess I made on the paper,” said Miguel, holding it up to show her a giant scribble.
"That's a mess all right,” said Allie.
"But having met you, and after spending a few minutes with you, I can see more clearly,” said Miguel, as he feverishly worked his soft eraser over the scribbles, highlighting facial features and transforming the mess into a very agreeable portrait of Allie.
"Are the edges of the paper burnt, Miguel?” Allie asked.
"Yes, it's the same paper stock I used in the show, so, in a sense, you have the only portrait that commemorates the original show,” said Miguel.
Miguel smiled, "Shall we burn the rest of it?” he asked Allie.
"Not a chance,” said Allie as she grabbed the portrait.
"I love it, and thank you, Miguelangelo, for joining us today. It was great fun, and I know the audience on the street outside was blown away when you turned that scribble into a portrait of me. So, let's do it again sometime,” said Allie.
"I'd love to,” said Miguel, smiling.
"That's a wrap. Beautiful,” said Matt.

They clapped, shook hands, some people hugged, and it was over. To his relief, everyone supported Miguel and said he did an outstanding job for his first time on TV. He was surprised at how completely comfortable he felt in front of the camera; no big deal.

As they got in the car to leave the studio, Miguel leaned over to Sara. "Did she called me Miguelangelo, one word?” he whispered.

Back to the hotel to pack, and check out. A van was scheduled to pick them up at noon for the three-hour drive to The Hamptons.
"Probably more like five to six hours with the holiday traffic,” Alissa said.
She reminded them that the top news story of the morning was the caravan of black Suburbans, their roof racks loaded with supplies, slowly crawling towards The Hamptons on I-495.
"How long does it take by helicopter?” asked Cece.
"Like, thirty minutes,” said Alissa.
"We would also need to stop to eat if we drive,” said Miguel.
"Call Aisha,” said Sara to no one in particular.
"Listen, you guys go do what you need to do, I'll see what I can work out,” said Alissa.

When they gathered again in the lobby, Alissa smiled. "I hitched a free ride for us to East Hampton. A pilot I know. He's going to pick up a wife who caught her husband with the au pair. Poor guy. So, let's saddle up and head to La Guardia. The jet's fueled, he won't wait forever.

Questionnaire on the story

To be continued

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