The Moth - The Moth Radio Hour: Late Night

Episode Date: August 18, 2021

Join The Moth Radio Hour for a night out -- with this week’s stories of late night adventures or, should we say, misadventures. This episode is hosted by The Moth's Executive Producer, Sarah Austin Jenness. The Moth Radio is produced by The Moth and Jay Allison of Atlantic Public Media. Hosted by: Sarah Austin Jenness Storytellers: Gary Yimenez, Otis Gray, Molly Kendall, Devin Elise Wilson, Flash Rosenberg

Attention Houston! You have listened to our podcast and our radio hour, but did you know the Moth has live storytelling events at Wearhouse Live? The Moth has opened Mike's storytelling competitions called Story Slams that are open to anyone with a five-minute story to share on the night's theme. Upcoming themes include love hurts, stakes, clean, and pride. GoodLamoth.org forward slash Houston to experience a live show near you. That's from PRX. This is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm Sarah Austin-Geness. My mother used to say, nothing good happens after midnight.

But is that really true? Is that something all parents say to inspire you to get home before curfew? When some folks are getting ready to end their day, others are just getting started. In this episode, stories that all take place late late at night. We start with a story of a high school sophomore who attempts to surprise a fellow student he has a crush on and the attempt lasts all night long. Gary Daniel shared this with us as part of a showcase with the Moths High School program. Here's Gary, live at the mouth.

So love is so beautiful, but it can get you killed. So I'm about to do the craziest thing I have ever done in my life and it was to see a girl that I like, that I met in Nathgrave when she was in 10th grade. And now on my senior, she already graduate. And I don't see her anymore. So I want to see her. So I decided to go to New Jersey to, even though I didn't know the address,

I decided to surprise her. Yeah, that was not the smartest idea. And so I had to go to the Terminal Bus and I didn't take any charge. My GPS was on the whole time and I was listening to music and my phone just was just dying. So I got to the Terminal Bus and the Terminal Bus it was so big that for me it looks like a airport. With hundreds of buses to take, and I was so lost that I had to ask somebody, yo, I want to get to New Jersey, what should I do?

And it was like, yo, what part of New Jersey you want to go? And I was like, I just told you, I want to go to New Jersey. And his face was like, I just told you, I want to go to New Jersey. And his face was like, damn, this guy is really lost. So I have to give him my phone with the address, because I didn't even know how to pronounce the place that I was going. And I still don't know how to pronounce the place that I was going and I still don't know how to pronounce it. And he took me to the right place, the right place.

And I didn't even know that I had to pay for a bus. I was just depending on was lucky that the next day before I had to my mom for a haircut, for money to get a haircut which I never did, sorry mom, but that was good because I used the money to get into the bus. So when I got to the line, I realized that the line was bigger than the Washington bridge. Like I spent an hour in that line and when I finally got to the bus and there was only one sit left and a woman next to it. And she was just looking at me like saying don't even think

about sitting next to me. And we started talking about telepathy and I was like I don't care I'm going to sit there because I've been waiting for an hour and I'm tired I'm going to sit there. I sit in there and my GPS stopped working and this woman was looking at me the whole time and I just was in panic. So I thought the bus was already past the place that I want to go and I got off earlier. And my GPS was some reason to start working again and I I realized that I was two hours away from her house. And I was just lost.

And I realized that love is really blind because it makes you think that you, it makes you do things that you never thought you would do. Crazy things. And I was able to see the whole New York City and I was like, Dan, this is beautiful, but it will be more beautiful if I could see her instead. And I took that moment to tell myself,

what the hell that just did? And I just keep walking and walking and I was so hungry that I heard my stomach saying like Feed me please Man, you're gonna die if you don't feed me So So, my phone was like 1% it was like 1 minute before it dies and I died with it. And I took the last minute just to call her and at least her, her boys. It was like my last words. And I told her, I pensionally said, yo, I lost, please, help me.

And it was just that in front of a building hoping that somebody would help me and the people was walking by me like they didn't care. And there it was even one guy that gave me one daughter. I appreciated it, at least something. So it started raining and I said, I'm going to build in somebody's building, even though I can't get arrested. I don't care. I got to find a place to sleep, though. So I went to the last floor and it was not as good as my bed, but it was something at least.

And next day I woke up and I was totally amassed. I had a headache, my bag was hurting, and I told myself this really how I wanna surprise her. So I went to a store how I want to surprise her. So I went to a store so I can get a charger or something. And there were some Dominicans from my country and they were like, yo, what the fuck, I'm going to do that. That means how are you?

And I And I told him, yo, I'm lost in another state. I was sleeping. I was sleeping in the stairs But I'm good. I'm happy to be alive at least so but I'm good, I'm happy to be alive at least. So, once my phone finally got, my GPS was on, and I realized that I was literally next to her house. I don't know how I get there, but I was next to her house. And I called her and I told her, I'm here, can you please speak to me, because I don't know what I am.

All I know is that I'm here. Can you please speak me out? Because I don't know what I am. All I know is that I'm around with your house. And she was like, I'm sick, I can't. And I told her, so you're telling me that I came all the way to the New Jersey to see her. You're telling me that you're sick. And obviously she thought it was a joke. And I told her, can you please sit through the window

if I can find you? And she saw me and she was shaking her hand. It was the best one for me. I was like, I finally got it. And she told me, yeah, you're really crazy. So I went to her house. We ate some papas, corn, salami. And she gave me some chocolate because I was really cold.

And although she's not here, I just want to thank her because she has set me to go to proud with me. And... Oh! Wait! I'm not done. So... I don't know what they always think I'm done when I said that.

So, since this is being recorded, I just want to tell you that you're the most beautiful girl I ever met. And even though you might not feel the same for me, I just want to let you know that I love you. That was Gary Daniel. Gary lives in the Bronx and he says he spent the past year meditating, studying martial arts, and reading a lot. He's also excited to tell more stories now that we can get back out in the world again. I asked Gary, what advice would you give to people out there who want to surprise their

crushes? And he said, do not risk your life to impress someone. It's not necessary. Instead, muster the courage to tell them how you feel directly. If they reject you, the right person will come at the right moment. By the way, Gary and his crush did go to the prom, so his elaborate stunt worked. And to see their sweet prom photo,

go to our website, themoth.org. Up next is Otis Gray, with a story that takes place one night in a restaurant, just outside of Providence, Rhode Island. Here's Otis live at the mall. Thank you. I have a degree in sculpture from Rhode Island School of Design. So, naturally, I now have seven years experience waiting tables.

I actually love serving tables. Like, I love giving people an exquisite, dining experience and food has always been a really big thing for me. And you can actually make a ton of money as a server if you have the right job, but there's a catch. All of your money comes completely from tips,

which means you have to be intelligent, you need to be efficient, you have to seem happy, um, ends, and when shit hits the fan because it always does, you have to apologize. You have to say, I'm sorry, is there anything I can do for you? And the stuff that you have to deal with as a server is absolutely ridiculous. Uh, one time during a busy service, I had a woman pay for a $35 meal completely in change. I had one dude who ate a four-course meal alone and refused to pay because the restaurant was just

a little too hot. I had a table try to set me up on an actual arranged marriage with their daughter who was there. And you deal with this shit all the time, arranged marriage with their daughter who was there. And you deal with this shit all the time, but all you can do is smile and nod because you need the job. You need to get paid. But I went to art school so I had this problem with authority, I guess. So when I was in senior year of college,

Provincial Island, I got this really great job at a high end Italian restaurant, killer food, really, really good staff. I was walking out with like over $200 in my pocket every night. They had this rule where if a table didn't finish their bottle of wine, you could cork it and take it home. Great rule. It was awesome, but there's still, you have this job where every night it feels like you're

dying a little bit. So one night, we're working in the restaurant and I am deep in the weeds. And basically, that means that shit has hit the fan. And there is, you cannot make all of your tables happy. It is a triage situation. It is absolute chaos. It's like, I'm running around, it's halfway through the night. And out of the corner of my eye,

I see this woman come in the door. And I know this woman is going to steer this ship into the iceberg. Um. No, this woman is going to steer this ship into the iceberg. Um, I see this woman and she's so visibly intoxicated. Like she just reeks, 20 feet away. She's with two really stylish gay gentlemen that are walking in with her and she stumbles over the table, barely makes it there.

She flops down in the sea. I'm like, all right, I'm gonna deal with this. So I run up and I say, how are you folks? My name is Otis. I'll be your server tonight. These two dudes are very visibly judging me because even though I was wearing my uniform, I guess they could tell I was a slob on the inside. Um... And... And this one was like, listen, listen Oscar.

We want bread and olives and we want you to come right back. I'm like, all right, I'm Oscar. Okay, so I go get the bread and the olives and I bring it back. And I'm running around the restaurant. And I'm going by your table and she grabs my arm. You don't do. And...

She says, I'm like, I'm sorry, Miss. How can I help you? She's like, I don't want to order. I'm like, fantastic. I'll be right with you. And I'm running around because, like, Table 5 needs two packets of Splenda and Table 9, Kid's Build Chocolate Milk, all over his dead state, he's pissed.

This woman starts yelling across the entire restaurant, oh, it's gone. And everyone's so furious at me and her, and the whole thing, so I'm like, run it over. I'm like, yes, miss, how can I help you? She's like, this is an Oscar. I want this Pinot Grigio, because it's from my favorite region. But I don't want to say it's any peaches.

I'm like, all right, miss, this particular Pinot Grigio does have notes of peaches in it, like it says right in the menu. I want this Pinot Grigio, but I better not say any peaches. And I go and I put the Pinot in and like, it comes to her table and I'm running by again and she grabs my arm again and she shoves the glass of wine into my face.

Pours the wine on my uniform. Smell this. What do you smell? Peaches. Peaches. I just said anyone any peaches, Oscar. Dude, they're lovin' this. They are dying. And the whole restaurant is in flames. And I know that this woman isn't even going to take me. I'm not gonna even, I don't benefit at all from this. And I know I should, I should apologize and say sorry and walk away.

But I snapped and I thought, I'm going to sell this woman the most expensive bottle of wine on the goddamn menu. The bodega, name you, Malbec, which is a $450 bottle of wine because I know these two dudes aren't drinking, and if she has another sip, she's gonna have to get her stomach pumped and

I am not usually good at selling wine, but for Peach's lady, the shit was on So I said Miss if you didn't like that Pinho Grigio I think I was something that you'll really enjoy and it was a masterpiece. It was like a ballet. I Was like miss this Malbec has notes of mocha and dark plum, and you can feel the smoke. And the vines were coddled from a young age by a man named Raphael, who sung the grapes to sleep every night.

And since you know your region so well, you'll know that the soil and the Rio Negro Valley is exquisite. And these dudes did not see this coming. And she is in trance. I said, Miss, this Malbec is simply an experience. And you seem like the kind of person who knows that life is too short to let these experiences pass you by. It was like one bottle of the malbec Oscar.

Bottle comes to her table, we open it up, and she has a sip and she passes out on the table. Her fine gentleman put her arms over their shoulders and they drag her out the front door. 2.30 a.m. that night, I leave the restaurant, I made no money. I was exhausted. But I did walk the beautiful streets of Providence, Rhode Island, sipping. Bodega, Namia, Melbec, straight from the bottle! That was Otis Gray. Otis told me, you can tell a lot about people by how they treat restaurant servers. I treat waiters differently ever since I've been one. These days, if I have the

luxury of being at a restaurant, I definitely tip extra. Otis hosts a podcast called Sleepy, where he reads old books in a soothing voice to help you fall asleep, because all late nights have to end at some point. After our break, two more late night stories. One risky, one risqué. Both take place in New York, the city that never sleeps. When the Moth Radio Hour continues. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by PRX.

This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Sarah Austin-Geness. The stories in this hour are all about nocturnal adventures, sometimes when the sun sets, the fun begins. In 2006, during the Moths, very first US main stage tour, my friend and Moth colleague, Gita and I, took a night off while we were in Seattle, to have dinner on Bainbridge Island, just off the coast.

We took an early evening ferry out to the island, we set our phone alarms before the very last ferry of the night was to leave. Well, Gita and I had a lot to catch up on and we were laughing and telling stories and you know what happens next. We didn't hear the alarm, but we did hear the sound of the ferry horn. And we dumped cash on the counter and we went running through the dark, bainbridge island woods and we got to the ferry terminal in time to see the boat leaving.

There was one man in the terminal and I said, sir, we missed the boat and he said, well, all the locals are singing karaoke across the street. So that's what we did. We went across the street. We sang, I got you bay with the rest of the tiny island's neighborhood and killed four hours until the ferry started running again. We were exhausted at the moth the next day, but boy that was a fun mistake to make. And yes, there's photographic evidence of all of this at themoth.org. Molly Kendall told our next story at a moth slam in New York where public radio station WNYC is a media partner. Here's Molly live at the Moth.

About 12 years ago I moved to New York City and to this day I do not know why I did that. But it was an adventure and to support my adventure I had to work two, three, however many jobs running here there trying to find my feet on this pulsing frenetic city. Within the beginning of the time that I was here, I met this man named John. And being a product of someone who was born and raised here, he had a very calm spirit within this craziness that I felt. So he and I started to see each other one winter night. He invited me over. Of course I'm gonna go. And so I opened my closet of really tired old looking clothes.

And I think with this like blast of courage and insanity, screw it. I'm not gonna wear any of these. I'm just gonna wear my snow boots. It's the middle of winter. My snow boots. And I grabbed my old Navy, all-weather, camel-colored, trench coat. And I drew that on.

And my thing. Yes, every man's dream. Yes, every man's dream. And I jumped on the M14 D bus and it was empty. And I realized looking at this empty bus full of empty seats, I cannot sit down. The code isn't long enough. And I'm just gonna hold this ball. I don't hope that this trip goes really quickly.

So I get to his house and he buzzes me up and I go up and I'm thinking like on the bus I had lost all of my courage. And I thought like what am I doing? What am I doing? I am not this kind of person, whatever that means. I'm not. This is not who I am. And I get to his apartment and I open his door and he's fully clothed, winter jacket on, and he's leasing up his boots. And he's like, you know what? I'm so hungry. Let's go out to dinner. And I said, no, I'm not hungry. And he said, no, I'm not hungry.

And he said, okay, just pizza. And I was like, I hate pizza, no. And he was saying, sushi. And I was like, no, I just couldn't tell him. Like, I just couldn't tell him what I had done. Cause I was not, I didn't know what I had done. And he's like, all right, you know what Bruno, this bartender at the steakhouse where we often went to, he's like, all right, you know what? Bruno, this bartender at the steakhouse

where we often went to, he's like, Bruno's at the bar at strip house, we're just gonna go there, don't worry about it. We're gonna have lamb chops. He knew the secret to my heart was lamb chops. And he said, let's go there. And I thought, oh my God, every time I say no, it gets like worse.

Like pizza, desushi, to steak. Like now it's gonna be forever. And I'm naked and okay let's go let's just let's just go and so we go to striphouse and like it's the middle of winter so the beautiful lovely sweet coat check lady is like oh can I take your coat and it's like no and oh okay so we go the Bruno sees us at the bar and he's like, oh John, Molly, hey, come on sit down here, I have your place with you. Molly, take off that stupid coat, it looks like you're ready to run away and I was like, oh my god, if you only knew. And I've

got, before, before you sit down, like this isn't my chance, this isn't my chance, I'm just going to tell him and we're going to go, like I have to get this over with, but I couldn't because I was just too embarrassed, Like, what have I done? And so we sat down. And Bruner said, what would you like to drink? And I was like, what would get me drunk the fastest? So I have the courage to tell him. And I said, I'm a teen.

Boom, he makes a martini. It's down. Gone. And then he was like, wow, OK, would you like something else? Yeah, just another martini, another martini. Like, I need to think, I need to think. And he makes the martini and then like the haze of somewhere else I hear John ordering like three

or four courses of something or something and there's like a seafood tower involved and like lamb chops and triple-screen, cream spinach and like, amazingness. But I was just trying to think like, how do I get out of this? How do I tell them? And I just, I can't get my courage back. The courage that told me, like, just go naked. Like, that courage is gone. And so Bruno was like, no, seriously, like, take off your jacket. And I was like,

you know what? I caught a chill outside. Like, it's cool. Like, I'm fine. And then like, to help me, Bruno decided to like, turn up the heat in the bar. Oh my God, no, seriously. Okay. So, he turned up the heat in the bar. I'm sitting at the bar. There's, like, sweat, tripping down my face down into my, like, old Navy camel colored all-weather trench coat.

And I just didn't want to do it. And the lamb chops come out, and I want the lamb chops. And I still have the courage to say it. And finally, John's, like, you want to start with steak or lamb. And I was like, you're talking about steak, and I want the lamb chops, and I still have the courage to say it, and finally, John's like, you want to start with steak or lamb, and I was like, you're talking about steak, and I'm naked. I'm naked. The polyester's now sticking to my body,

and we just, we just have to get out of here because I'm naked. I'm naked. I'm naked. I'm naked. And he looked at me. I'm gonna play. We had a wrap and up. I'm naked. And, okay, I, and he was like, we gotta wrap it up.

And okay, I know I'm over time, but I have to tell you guys that that was like 11, 12 years ago, whatever, present day. We now have a three and a half year old daughter. And I look at her, and she's like, demon, like from the moment that she was born, she was like, tornado in a tiny little thing. And I look at her and I think like, how do I help mold you into the person you're supposed to be? And I realized that when I was saying, like, I am not this person that we don't have control

over who we are and what we're supposed to be. And least of all, we don't have control over our kids, that we can be more than we ever imagined. Thank you. Thank you. That was Molly Kendall. Molly lives in New York City with her daughter and their dog, Ogi.

Before the pandemic, she was taking flying lessons, but during the pandemic, she's learned to wire crochet and the art of defrosting a freezer. She said this was her first and last of her intentional naked surprises. And for anyone listening who's considering a stunt like this, Molly says, spring for a cab. This infamous night took place at a restaurant appropriately named Strip House in Greenwich Village and to see a photo of Molly with her daughter at the same

restaurant at the same bar many years later go to the Moth.org. Devon Elise Wilson told this next story outside at the beautiful Greenwood cemetery in Brooklyn. It was our first in-person socially-distance show after the pandemic hit and even though the audience was made up of only 20 folks, the living audience that is, we were all so thrilled to have a night out together. And you can't do a late night show without mentioning sex, so just so you know, sex will be mentioned in this story. Here's Devon Live at the Moth.

Applause. New York City, New Year's Eve. 2020 is going to be a great year. With my hype song, Out Tonight Rent on Blast Repeat, I get all jazzed up. I do my makeup, my nails, I lotion my entire body, and not just the parts visible to the world. I put on a new dress that hugs me in all the right places, and I throw on a big fluffy coat that makes me feel like a movie star. I grab a couple of condoms and put them in my bag

because you never know, and a lady should always be prepared especially when she feels this good. Just as I'm leaving the apartment, I get a text message. It's from my dad. It says, hey kiddo, there's a saying that some people use. I don't really like it. Here goes. The best way to get over a man is to get under a new one. That's BS. I know you know that. Enjoy your special evening. Now let's backtrack for a minute here. My boyfriend of four months and I had just broken up the day before. We'd made plans

months ago to spend years, Eve together in the city at his place, but by the time the holiday came around, we both knew what was coming. There was no spark. And quite honestly, my gut had been trying to tell me for the entirety of the relationship that this just wasn't it. He didn't actually see me. So, I was glad for the clean break while simultaneously sad to be alone in the city on New Year's. When I realized I could ring it in from my happy place, Marie's crisis, I knew I was ready for a fresh start. But how could my dad sense my energy from across the country, though? I laughed to myself as me, and my happy new year headband and my condoms left the house. Marie's crisis is a musical theater, Shingong, Shotun, Piano Bar, and the West Village,

and there is no place like it. It's easy to make friends when you're all singing, defying gravity, circle of life, and seasons of love at the top of your lungs. There was one woman in particular who I'd seen there before she had the voice of a Broadway star. After singing a few songs with each other, she pulled me into her group and we all sang and drank together.

A couple hours in, they started talking about kisses at midnight. She turned to me and said she was kissing a couple other people, but she'd like to kiss me too. I'd never kissed a woman before. I'd always been open to it, but the opportunity had never presented itself so organically. So midnight comes around. Five, four, three, two, one. Happy New Year! No kiss for Devon. Twelve, oh five. Still no kiss. She's busy celebrating with her friends, and I'm not the type to tap her on the shoulder,

like, hi, remember me. So after some high fives and happy new year wishes with their random musical theater lovers around me, I slightly disappointed just keeps singing. About 1215, she turns to me and we lock eyes. And I don't think either of us were expecting that kind of kiss. Fireworks. She pulled back and said, ooh, this might be my favorite kiss of the night. Don't tell the others.

I didn't. But they might have guessed because what we did do was continue to make out shamelessly. At a certain point, she leans in and whispers, do you want to come home with me? I say yes, followed by, I've never been with a woman before. She says, it's okay, I have. And we keep singing and kissing.

She would pop in an out for smoke break here here and there and when she'd come back in, she'd check, you're still coming home with me, yeah. I was getting increasingly more nervous, but not because this would be my first time. So on her next break, I thought, okay, let's tell her that we're herpes positive now so that she can make a decision sooner rather than later. So with resolve, I threw my coat over my shoulders and I walk outside. I was expecting to catch her smoking alone, but she was in a group of at least five people.

And all I heard was, you guys, she said it like 10 times. She's definitely coming home with me. I froze like a deer and headlights. I definitely wasn't supposed to be hearing this. I pivoted on the balls on my feet to avoid the click-clack of my healed boots on the pavement as I tipped toed back into the bar. They were talking about me. I guess they thought I wasn't going to go through with it.

Little did they know. Me not going through with it was furthest from my mind. Last call, final song, we hop in a cab, and I am multitasking and thrulled by the feeling of her lips on mine. Well simultaneously trying to build up the courage. You can do it. Just say it.

We're on the West Side Highway now, about 150 blocks from her place, 100 from mine. OK, just say it before we pass your place, so if she changes her mind, we can make two stops. I allow myself to sink into the unbridled pleasure of us for a few more blocks. Just as I'm coming to the peak of my internal pep talk, she turns to me and says,

I should have said something sooner, but my heart is racing. Are you allergic to cats? I respond no with a giggle and she laughs too. She has unknowingly given me the perfect in. I take a breath and say, speaking of things we should have mentioned sooner, and I tell her. I tell her that I'm herpes positive,

and this is how it manifests in my body. This is how I manage it. And this is what it means for us tonight. As I wait for her response, I'm proud of me for allowing myself to live fully despite fear. She thinks me for my honesty and says, this is worth the risk. And then we talk about her sexual health history too. Finally able to fully relax into us, into our chemistry, our heat.

I feel seen in a way that I haven't in a long while. Walking to the train in the next morning without tonight still blasting on repeat in my headphones, I can't help but grin as I reminisce about the night before. What a way to ring in the new year. I will save you the play by play, but let's just say I definitely didn't spend that night under a man. Woo! Woo! Woo! Woo!

That was Devon Elise Wilson. Devon is a storyteller, model, and recovering perfectionist. And no, nothing happened between her and the woman in the story after that night. She loves that it was just a moment in time. Devon runs a support group for people who are struggling with the stigma around being herpes positive. She's written a television comedy pilot to help change the narrative around herpes and the media.

She wanted to call the TV show, fuck, I have herpes. But autocorrect changed it to duck, I have heroes. So she went with that for the title. To see photos of Devon on that gateful night out, go to themoth.org. After our break, a late night slip and fall leads to a miracle when the moth radio hour continues. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by the Public Radio Exchange, PRX.org.

You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Sarah Austin-Geness. This is an hour all about night owls and what happens after dark. Our final story is also from that night in Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn. It's from Flash Rosenberg. And on this night in the fall of the pandemic, there was a stage set up between the mausoleums and the moon cut through the darkness.

Here's Flash Rosenberg live at the mall. I don't think of drawing and photography, writing or performing as separate disciplines. I do them all. I'm an attention span for hire. and photography, writing, or performing as separate disciplines. I do them all. I'm an attention span for hire. And I noticed things in order to try to figure out what's going on. So I was pretty excited when I had a chance to invent a class that I could teach at Cooper Union that took place entirely in the subways.

The class was called Underground Creativity, Einstein on the D-Train. And instead of assignments would sound a two-burden-sum, we called what we did noticing games. And like imagine you're sitting on the subway seat and you're looking down. And the first game would be like, look at the shoes, guess the face. Look at the face, guess the shoes. Then we ramped up a bit for a noticing game called nuclear subway. Let's say there's a nuclear accident and the only people

left on earth are in this car with you and you have to pick someone to mate with to continue the human race. Now this isn't about biology or gender, just who in this car would you want to get together with to create a new world? Hmm, he's cute, but she's reading. Well, and if your choice leaves the subway, then you have to pick someone else. Well, sometimes after class, I would stop at Keens, which is a midtown steakhouse around

the corner of my loft, so I could write down what I noticed the students noticing during the class. Now, what am I doing at a steakhouse? Well, I'm their pet vegetarian. I would order the side dishes. I would get the spinach, the mashed potatoes, the salad. And once when I was there on a date, the guy observed, this is never going to work out.

You cannot even commit to an entree. You're never going to commit to a relationship. It's sort of right. I mean, I'm not married. I don't have kids. And I didn't think I had a sense of humor until once I read in the New York Times Science section that normal adults laugh about 15 times a day. I figured, whoa, I

have way over the limit. So every time I laughed, I made a jaunting down of what I laughed about in a notebook for two weeks. And huh, turns out I was the one making myself laugh. So I started doing comedy. And one night I was at a club in my great Aunt Leah who was 89 at the time, you'd never seen me perform before. She comes up to me and says, don't let anyone in the family ever make you feel bad because you didn't have kids, because many people believe that children are the essence of life. She said, I wanted kids too, but it didn't happen. You're like me. And the way I see it, those of us who don't have kids,

I've been given some ability to figure out why you are here. So that gift is a challenge. I was thinking, I've always wondered why I'm here. I mean, since I was age two when I was yelling out the fourth floor window from our apartment, why am I here? My mom came in and was like, what? Well, I saw all those people down on the sidewalk walking around. Why was I in my crib?

No. So, one night after class, I didn't go to Keynes, but I ended up going to the Cornelia Street Cafe because I was going to deliver a humorous toast at a little private cabaret show to celebrate a friend's birthday, and I was dressed up. I like to dress up because I'm a pathological optimist. I mean, I'm ready in case something good is going to happen. And I had my distinctive coat that I love so much that it looks like yarn that's sort of pressed into it as if somebody scribbled with red, black, and gray.

And I also think it's nice to dress up because I feel some responsibility in a quiet way to help cheer up New York. Well, the show ended late and I was really tired and I was hungry and so I'm my way to the West 4th Street subway to catch the uptown F. I stop and I get about a dozen bagels and stick them in my backpack so I can toast when I get home. And on the way to the subway I'm thinking, what am I doing? I mean, where's my big project?

It just seems like I'm stomping on the ants and not feeding the elephants. I mean, is noticing a career? What's the point? So I get out on the subway steps, go through the turnstile, and I wait for the next train. Next thing I see is bright, blaring lights right above my face with people in masks wearing blue scrubs Looking at me like their gargoyles and there's tubes in my arms. Where am I? The nurse says you're in the emergency room at Bellevue She said you fell on the tracks you fell on the subway tracks

She said you fell on the tracks you fell on the subway tracks Well, I always thought what kind of a clueless person falls on the subway tracks apparently me Well the doctor assures that I'm fine. I'm gonna be okay. The thing's broken There's no trauma my heart is fine. He said you probably just fainted from exhaustion. You're good to go. But I ask, what happened? The nurse says, it's the duty of a hospital to save your life, not your stories. And she hands me a plastic bag with like, that's its personal belongings. And in it is my beautiful dress that's all cut up.

Because if you arrive at a hospital unconscious, they cut your clothes off so they don't disturb you in case you have some broken bones. But by some wild luck, they did not cut my great coat. Well, they hand me this triple-ex size sweats, wheelchair me to the curb, then leave me to fend for myself. I hail a cab, and as soon as I get home, it's like 11.30 in the morning, I call my brother because I didn't want him to worry since I missed our 7.30 a.m. daily call.

Hi Ken, sorry I missed our call. I was in the emergency room. I fell in the subway tracks but I'm okay. And my brother says that is not a logical sentence in the English language. If you think you are okay, you are not okay. And he jumped up from this desk in his office in Wilmington, Delaware, took the next Amtrak train up to New York to take care of me. And his care was a big comfort. But the whole day I had this sort of shiver-chilled fever feeling

because I didn't know what happened. It was a mystery. I mean, I have no images. There was nothing that I noticed. Was I pushed? Where did it happen? Who saved me? Scarrier than the fall itself was not knowing the story.

Well, I figured I'd look online. Surely somebody would have taken a cell phone snap. A woman on the tracks would be more interesting than what you had for dinner, but nothing. Two days later, I get a call from James, the manager at Keens. How are you? That's strange, I thought. He's never called to find out how I am. James continues,

My waiter, Robert, rescued you the other night. Would you like to know the story? Yeah! And so my brother and I go over, sit with Robert and Robert explains. He says, I just got an off of work at 1 a.m. and I go racing down the steps to catch the uptown F. And oh, damn, the train is pulling out, I miss it. And so I'm looking down the tracks to see, you know, when the next train might be coming, and I notice in the distance, a figure that's sort of unsteady, who seems to be trying to navigate

around that really narrow part of the subway platform around the stairs. And suddenly that figure slips and slithers onto the tracks. And then I notice it's your coat, it's you, that's flash. And so he rallies the few stragglers on the platform to come help. He said, the biggest guy jumped down, somebody was guiding, he was pulling my arms. A woman was on the platform on her cell phone, calling 911. The next train is halted.

My life is saved. Well, being noticed on the subway tracks is all the celebrity anyone ever needs. subway tracks is all the celebrity anyone ever needs. Plus, it's like a fashion tip. Be noticeable. If I had been wearing my black puff coat, I would have been disguised as camouflage, as debris. I might still be down there. And always carry bagels in your backpack.

Gluten saved my life. They were like little life preservers, and probably are the reason why my back isn't broken. Then Robert continues to tell the story. He said, when you were up on the platform, you were all apologetic, you're saying, I'm fine, I'm gonna walk home, you know, I'm sorry to cause you so much trouble.

Well, those of you who know me will not be surprised to hear that though unconscious, I was still talking. And then he thought, well, he better be sure that I'm okay before he lets me go. So he asked my name, got it. And then he asked for my emergency phone number. And somewhere in the befuddlement,

emergency phone number, I thought of the phone number that I was forced to memorize when I was a child during the Cuban Missile Crisis. And to cut eight, nine, nine, seven, eight. Well, the rescuers were much too young to know that used to be what phone numbers were. So, he thought, well, something must be wrong with her, so they called an ambulance. I'm never going to be able to thank Robert enough for saving my life. My brother tried. I mean, he took out his wallet and stuck it on the table at

Keens and said, just take whatever you want out of it, max out the credit cards. There's nothing that matters more to me, nothing more valuable than my sister's life. In the next morning, I was looking out of my fourth story window and I was thinking how does this affect me? How has this changed my life? Well, I do know that why I am here is a question I respect more now And when I was a teenager, I asked my rabbi Khrinsky why am I here? Meaning why am I going to Hebrew school for eight years? And the rabbi said it's not about learning Hebrew. You know, them all the Hebrew you needed to know, you learned the first day. I thought, what shall

I know when I was done? He said, no, no, not shall I know. But he, nay, nay, the Hebrew word for here I am. He said, when you were called upon, when you're, you know, during roll call and you answer to your name, you have agreed to be present. You have the ability to notice what there is to do. And then he went on to say, it's not about prayers either. The way to give thanks for being who you are is that you have to be exactly who you are. And then I thought about what Aunt Leah said when, after she saw me do that comedy performance,

and she said that I fulfilled what my grandfather could only wish for. She said, her older brother, my Papa Rosie, he rescued the family. He brought them from Europe to America before the Nazis. But she said he didn't want to be a hero. What he wanted to do was perform on stage in New York City. So he nay-nee, here I am.

That was Flash Rosenberg. Flash draws, animates, cartoons, photographs, rights, and performs. She says she lives in Harlem with two turtles and infinite questions. To see photos of Flash in her unique coat, and with that special waiter from Keynes, who saw it and saved her life, plus a collection of games invented by Flash to play on the subway. Go to themoth Dutton. We wish you many, many nights to remember. And that's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour.

We hope you'll join us next time. This episode of the Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, Katherine Burns, and Sarah Austin-Jones, who also hosted the show, and directed the stories in the hour along with Jennifer Hickson. Co-producer is Vicki Merrick, Associate Producer Emily Couch. Additional Education Coaching by Catherine McCarthy. The rest of the Moss Leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Clouche, Suzanne Ross, Brandon Grant,

Inga Gliddowski, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Ghaza. Moss Story to True as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by the Drift, other music in this hour from Boombox, Tommy Guerrero, Bubacar, Trey Array, A Not Cohen, Jonathan Larson, and Klesmer Juice. We receive funding from the National Endowment for the Arts.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by PRX. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story and everything else, go to our website, TheMoth.org. Godorg.