I would often travel to NYC on business, but now that I’m retired, I’m here in The Big Apple because my wife is on business. I go where she goes now, with distant memories of corporate meetings, conventions, budget discussions, performance reviews, and client lunches. I even had to fire a guy here in New York over lunch, so many of my memories aren’t good ones. There’s also a certain energy in the air that keeps me awake at night. It’s the city that never sleeps, and doesn’t let me sleep well, either. Traffic congestion, shoulder-to-shoulder crowded sidewalks, waiting lines, excessive horn-honking, sirens, and loud conversations would normally keep me away.

As soon as I hit the ground at JFK the big city hassles began. I frantically searched the overhead bins where I had stored my top coat. A stewardess eventually found a coat but it didn’t look like mine. It was the same style and color but didn’t have the “Made in Italy” tag to identify it as belonging to me. I thought back to a NYC trip years ago, where someone grabbed my coat by mistake, leaving me with sleeves that were five inches too long. I finally got a call from the owner, apologizing for the mistake. He found my business card in a pocket and it turned out that coincidentally we worked for the same company, and soon agreed to exchange Fed Ex shipments.  The Big Apple was already looking rotten.

As we arrived in the terminal, I took the coat that I was sure wasn’t mine to Baggage Claim and eventually was redirected to Lost and Found. As I was about to turn it over to the agent and make a stolen coat report, I reached in the coat pocket and found a business card…my business card from a few years ago.   It was my coat, and I left embarrassed after this obvious “Senior Moment.” I was so convinced that someone had taken my coat just like before. New York was like that! I was then so upset with myself that I left my laptop and I-Pad behind and wouldn’t have even realized it, if it weren’t for the thoughtful agent who tracked me down as we waited for a taxi. I now had all my stuff, but had lost my mind. I’m sure that they’re still laughing at the old guy who tried to turn in his own coat as lost, and then left without two of his most valuable possessions.

I keep thinking that I’m no longer a child in need of guidance, but I’m constantly lost and/or confused. I get upset with my wife for giving me directions, instructions, and advise, but apparently I need it now more than ever. I ran an extra mile the next morning, trying to find my way back to our hotel. At least, I remembered the room key and room number – details I haven’t necessarily remembered on other trips.

We saw four Broadway Shows, had several pricy meals, and bought some artwork. Nothing is inexpensive in New York City. We were also fortunate to reacquaint ourselves with old friends. One happens to still be a major client, and a pioneer in the future of media buying, who we hadn’t seen in 25 years. I also bought lunch for a friend of mine’s son, who just started his career here, 2500 miles from home. Finally, we enjoyed an extended evening of dinner and a show. They were able to get us back stage after the Bette Midler “Hello Dolly” performance.

My nerves have settled a bit, as a sit in the midst of New York style flea market with enclosed glass booths rather than tents. I overreacted to my wife’s enthusiasm to try-on and buy things when we’re supposed to be downsizing and donating. There was a massive street fair just outside our hotel and I was immediately thrust into shopping mode without warning. She’s still working and therefore entitled to expand her personal possessions, not in the retirement world like me.

To make matters worse, I was supposed to be guarding my wife’s designer sweater while she shopped. In another forgetful moment, I left it unattended. After a frantic dash to retrieve it, we were fortunate that it was still there.  I feel that I need mitten clips for everything we own, and that I can’t keep track of any additional stuff.