Sinbad's Excellent New York Adventure.

"Scheherazade noticed that dawn was approaching and stopped telling her story. When the next day arrived, however, she received the king's permission to continue her tale and said ..."

There was once a great seaman and explorer, an adventurer who travelled in many lands and loved many women. He was a conqueror of gold and women's hearts. The strangest story in the life of this charmer named Sinbad is the mysterious "Adventure of the Island of Tallest Buildings" where Sinbad washed ashore. It was after a close escape from the wives of the Caliph at Baghdad, who had grown fond of his tales of peril and bravery -- and fond of him -- that Sinbad's vessel was destroyed on the high seas. Sinbad swam to shore. Avoiding the land of death called "New Jersey," Sinbad collapsed on the sands of a strange kingdom. Sinbad emerged not far from something called "the Wall Street area."

It is true, oh great king, that this Sinbad was pleasing to the eyes of women. He was of middle height, dazzling smile, light brown eyes, clever and amusing, filled with curious learning and exotic wisdom. Knowing nothing about accounting and rarely mentioning the subject, a silence which is highly pleasing to women -- except, of course, for women accountants -- Sinbad could discourse knowingly on any number of subjects: philosophy and literature, the science of the cosmos, the far corners of the globe and the curious rituals of persons from Connecticut. Sinbad had tasted exotic fruit and made sandwiches with mayonaise while visiting this kingdom of Connecticut.

Sinbad felt a great thirst and hunger, but he had no gold. So he walked through the strange city, noticing the dismal attire of residents and suspecting that the Caliph of this blessedly rich kingdom must have died recently and been much loved, because all the men were dressed in dark colors -- black, gray, dark blue, wearing scarves around their necks in the colors of suffering and pain, red and gray. Few of the men smiled or sang songs. Sinbad wore a blue tunic with gold trim, a gold earring, a red and green sash at his waist was made of Chinese silk. Despite his misfortunes, his clothes were splendid. Persons took no notice of him and continually asked if he was "from the Village." They spoke the language of the Britons with a barbaric accent.

The women were exotic and beautiful in this kingdom, also obviously in mourning since they wore dark colors, always in a great hurry, offering each other papers. Apparently, it is the custom in this land to bring paper to one another as tribute. Great files containing many papers are exchanged as offerings during the work day.

The houses were the tallest Sinbad had ever seen and their beauty was difficult to describe. There was a stark, slate-gray coolness in some structures. Some buidings were prim and proper, others were riots of stone and air, dancing and groping, twisting towards the sky. This was a people that sought to touch the sky. Allah had favored them greatly, for they had indeed touched and been touched by the sky and stars. Did they know of their good fortune? Why were they so sad and angry?

Sinbad's hunger was becoming painful. So he was beginning to ponder the idea of absconding with food -- which seemed to be plentiful -- when he saw what he knew to be his salvation. Laughing loudly, Sinbad thanked Allah for his bounty. There were young men playing chess for coins and jewelry with affluent fools. There seemed to be plenty of these fools for everyone. The winds had blessed Sinbad, carrying him to this land of great wealth and enormous fools. Mohammed, the gold merchant in his native land, had always repeated his people's ancient saying: "Never give a sucker an even break."

Sinbad played chess with the young men. They were Africans (like the friends that he had known on his journeys and adventures). Many fat rich fools were relieved of their gold and jewels. There was much laughter among the men. Music played from a box where a genie must have lived who loved music from all the world. Vegetables, fruit, and bread were brought from a Chinese grocer and tea -- like the teas of India, but darker and stronger -- such as Sinbad had never tasted, renewed his strength. Finally, Sinbad was about to leave, when he noticed an old man who observed his chess playing. The old man's garments were rich and the silk about his neck was splendid.

"A final challenge?" asked the old man.

"Why not?"

The old man was no fool, countering Sinbad's Ruy Lopez opening with a strong Sicilian Defense, (in the dragon variation) which Sinbad had not seen before. The game was close and intense. Years of chess playing on ships, in the bazzars of Baghdad, in India -- where the game was invented (or so they say) -- in Africa, with the Bedouins, had sharpened Sinbad's skills. The killer instinct never failed him.

Sinbad saw an opening, as always, on the Queen side of the board. Gradually, patiently, Sinbad pursued a positional advantage that closed off the oxygen supply to the large pieces, with a loss of pawn cover and an effective reduction of the board. When defeat was certain for the old man, he smiled and bowed, like the men of Sinbad's ancient land. The old man offered a draw and Sinbad was charitable. Grateful for his good fortune on this day, Sinbad agreed.

"You have been kind to an old man."

"May Allah provide strangers willing to be kind to me in the winter of my years."

"I wish to reward you for your generosity and consideration."

Sinbad felt sympathy for the man. "There is no need."

"Please accept this small gift from me."

The old man took from his pocket a small and ancient box made of ivory, with carvings of animals and sailing ships. "Take this box please. Guard it well. You will have reason to treasure it and remember me. For I was you in another life."

Sinbad thought this statement bizarre. However, he did not wish to offend the old man, so Sinbad thanked his new friend, bowed like the lawyers who are thieves at court, accepting the box. That evening Sinbad slept under the stars in a park at the center of the kingdom, ate well, and thought of his likely adventures in this glorious new country. In the morning, Sinbad swam in a lake. He washed his clothes and let them dry in the sun, feeling its warmth on his flesh, attracting the stares of women, busy early in the day, also many smiles from them.

"Are you from the Village?" They asked. Where is this Village?

Sinbad remembered the box he had been given. Opening it to hear lovely music, such as he had never heard before, becoming drowsy and shivering as he was about to dress -- there was suddenly a man standing before Sinbad, singing in a deep baritone voice, surrounded by purple smoke ...

"O Paradis! ... This is the hour of your great fortune, oh my master!"

"A GENIE!"

"Yes, O naked one. Put on some clothes or you'll get arrested."

Sinbad dressed quickly. "What are you wearing genie?"

"It's a yamulke. I'm Jewish."

"There cannot be a Jewish genie."

"What are you -- prejudiced?"

The man had a large face, a bald pate, a beard down to his belly, wearing a splendid tan suit made by the "Brothers Brooks," with a red handkerchief in his suit pocket, a light powder blue shirt, gold cuff links, well-shined shoes, and a pinky ring with a large ruby as well as a yellow necktie. This could be a genie who is a trickster. The genie explained that everybody thought he looked like "Rob Reiner with a long beard."

"No, not at all. I'm not prejudiced ... some of my best friends are Jews ... " Sinbad mumbled.

"Listen, genie wasn't my first choice of a profession. I was a personal injury lawyer for a while. I made good money in real estate. My mistake was I got into the movie business. It's easy for you to judge."

"I'm sorry. I meant no offense."

"None taken. The name is Murray Schwartz. We've got to get cracking here, kid, 'cause I gotta be home before sundown. You get three wishes -- and if you act now, you get a toaster oven free of charge."

In all of his adventures Sinbad had never found a genie. This was everyone's greatest hope. Sinbad could not believe his good fortune. It all became very clear to him now. This country was filled with genies who granted people's wishes, which explains why everyone is rich. Many of these genies appear on television shows with women carrying suitcases. So why aren't people happier? This land -- America is it? -- is the real treasure chest at the end of the rainbow, surrounded by dragons and challenges.

"Three wishes?"

"Yes."

"What's the catch? Where's the fine print?"

"Now you're hurting my feelings. Just for that you lose the toaster oven."

"O.K., I want great wealth and a splendid place to live."

The sky became black as midnight, lightning shattered the clouds, swirling winds altered everything, green smoke filled his eyes. Sinbad feared that he would never see again. Then everything began to clear away as the day became beautiful again. He was standing at a great height, with a magnificent view all around him of the city. Sinbad could see the very park where he had slept the night before. Sinbad now owned a penthouse at the Trump Tower, with a view of this huge Park from one side and the Time Warner building on the other, plus Columbus Circle with a fountain and everything. The people walking below looked tiny. Sinbad was a great Caliph all of a sudden. Who knew?

Sinbad looked at himself in a mirror with gold trim and saw (but could not believe) that he wore a beautiful dark blue suit, light and cool, comfortable and elegant, inside the jacket pocket it said: "Emporio Armani -- Fairy Tale Division." Sinbad's shirt was white and his necktie was a crimson color, made of the world's best Chinese silk. Not the cheap synthetic stuff, mind you. Old silk, from China -- the real China, not San Francisco or down by the seaport. Tiny hand-painted letters in gold were found on his elegant tie: "YSL." (Who is "Yves Saint Laurent?")

The room where he found himself was large, perfectly cool. There must be a magical temperature control. He noticed the low plush leather furniture in black, the crystal coffee table, a large canvas by Mondrian, a Picasso over the restored Renaissance fire place, a large flat screen "plasma" television set, and a control panel that might have allowed a rocket to reach the moon. Speakers were placed at the far corners of the room. There were fresh flowers on what appeared to be a genuine Ming vase. There was a wonderful aroma that came from him and could only be Antonio cologne. A device near the lamp had buttons identifying "butler, chauffeur, cook."

Sinbad decided to explore this great city, knowing that (if he needed his genie, all that was necessary was to open the box in his pocket). Sinbad had two more wishes. He would use them sparingly and wisely.

Strolling downtown in his splendid wardrobe, Sinbad noticed the difference in the reactions to him. There were suddenly occasional nods from the very serious men -- who never laughed or sang -- and sometimes women still smiled, but with a coolness different from the way they had smiled before. His clothing seemed to make him more frightening to people. The same people who had not seen him before, looking though him somehow, now seemed to acknowledge him and make him a party to this exclusiveness of others. Sinbad had become a force to reckon with or a power, but nothing important about him had changed.

Sinbad came to the very center of the kingdom, recognizing several friends from the night before. The young Africans were polite, but much more wary and guarded. His rich attire made him a source of concern for some reason. There was an artificiality about their interactions. Sinbad did not need money. Chess playing for gold and delight in relieving fools of their wealth was spoiled. This was all very disturbing.

Sinbad continued his journey and came upon Union Square, at 14th Street. There was a farmer's market, with ripe fruit and bread just out of the oven. He had coins to purchase what he needed. There would be no need to run off with something or devise a clever ploy to trick the merchant out of food. People were polite to him, if somewhat more distant than before. Something about his new splendor distanced persons from him as though he suffered from a contagious disease.

It is so strange that in a country where everyone believes that he or she wishes to be rich, an encounter with an expensively dressed person or visible wealth is so ambiguous or paradoxical. There is both attraction and revulsion for money in this curious country. Each emotion is equally intense.

Sinbad reached a bookstore called "Strand Books." There were many treasures displayed, including precious and valuable books, even a nineteenth century edition of the Arabian Nights. A statue of a woman with painted lips sat in the window reading a book, while wearing a "Strand Books" t-shirt and red converse sneakers as well as fishnet stockings. She had a blond wig and green eyes. Her hat said: "Sherry." And there was an ancient typing machine at her side with a single page in it. Sinbad could only read the first line typed on this page -- "Scheherezade noticed that dawn was ..."

Sinbad bought two "Strand Books" t-shirts. This way he'd have souvenirs for his friends when he got back to Baghdad. Then Sinbad saw her. A woman was working in the store blessed with a body rounded and curved with all the grace of Allah. She had green eyes and soft, light brown hair cut short. She wore a big cloth cap, old faded denims, black Converse sneakers, a black t-shirt that said "Strand Books" with some Chinese writing on it. She had a pencil behind her ear and a big button that said: "Hillary Clinton For President -- 2008." Another button said: "No More Nukes!"

Sinbad decided that -- whatever "Nukes" were -- he wanted no more of them. Sinbad entered the store, thinking of what to say to this princess in disguise, picking up a button like hers, which said: "Obama '08 -- For President."

"Greetings, oh fair one."

"What?"

She had a lovely voice, like a sailor on weekend leave who'd been smoking and drinking for hours. Clearly, she was most demure. Perhaps she had been raised in the shelter of a palace by grand Caliph.

"Will you be so kind as to show me the first editions? I have much gold to spend this day."

"Yeah, right. You know, that's exactly what wrong with this city."

"What do you mean?"

"There's too many assholes -- like you -- with a lot of money and no brains."

She tilted her head in his direction raising an eyebrow, inspecting him, as if he were something that she'd stepped on that morning on the way to work. She seemed both angry and amused. Women often seem angry. This is also true of pirates and evil genies. But Sinbad knew, somehow, that she wasn't really angry because Sinbad admired her beauty. She seemed mostly entertained by him. Many women are entertained by men, often by men who are unaware that they are very entertaining.

There is, almost always, an invitation (usually hidden, indirect) on the part of women one meets to demonstrate that one is not a fool. Women want to like you, to be interested in what you say, to laugh at your jokes. Most men don't care about the reactions of others. Women are more often open to the world, other-directed; men are more often closed to the world of others, inner-directed. A woman sets out each day to be astonished and fascinated by life. Men set out to be left alone. Women's inner lives are about feeling; men's inner lives are about autonomy. Yes, these categories sometimes overlap and there are persons who alternate these orientations.

Think of every woman you meet as a riddle that hopes to be figured out by you. Her selfhood or identity is a great treasure at the center of a labyrinth. It is not enough to reach it, for you must discover a way out of the labyrinth with that treasure, so that you can share it with her. Few women realize all the riches hidden away in the secret compartments of their psyches, sometimes from childhood, all of the things denied or discouraged, laughed at in themselves, sometimes beaten out of them -- all of these things are never lost. Women hide these precious sides of their nature and treasured memories in a secret tower inside themselves, surrounded by obstacles, and the man who reaches the secret tower and finds the treasure, is always the man (or person) that a woman will love.

"Well, if a person has money, does this not suggest that he or she also has brains?"

She stared at him, placed a hand at her hips, sighed and looked towards the ceiling, then back at Sinbad.

"Did something fall on your head today? Like a brick or something?"

"I lead a charmed life. Nothing ever falls on me."

"Right. I'll get in trouble for talking to you all day. So let me just get you to the rare books department."

"What is your name? I see that your jacket says 'Sears.' So your name must be Sears -- what a pretty name."

"Are you for real?"

"My new friend must be a blushing flower," Sinbad thought, smiling as his great charm began to work its magic.

"Well, that is a difficult question." Sinbad pondered this conundrum. "A great wise man named Nathan Salmon says that I am not real, in a way, but that I am also very real in another way. I was not a philosophy major."

"I wonder how real I am sometimes. Incidentally, I was a philosophy major, NYU, which explains all of my success in life ... and my seven roomates in Chelsea."

Her laughter was like a low rumble, thunder in the distance. They strolled over to the rare books department where Sinbad made several expensive purchases -- Sherry, that was her name, wasn't impressed -- but the owners of this great establishment were especially friendly towards Sinbad after he spent lots of money. In fact, they invited Sinbad to return any time, giving him a free button that said: "18 Miles of Books."

During their entire conversation, Sherry seemed to insult him and regard him as a fool, but in a nice way. Sinbad thought it would be difficult to ask her to have lunch with him. So he asked to use the bathroom to find some privacy. After his many purchases, everybody in this city was amazingly nice to him, but only in a performing kind of a way that seemed weird. The naturalness of people's reactions disappeared because of his visible wealth. It must like this for famous people. Their fame gets in the way of encounters with others. Fame or celebrity is in the room with them when they want to be alone with another person's words and thoughts, also feelings. Every relationship for a famous person is a triangle. Is it the same for the very rich?

Sinbad was alone in the bathroom. He removed the box from his pocket and opened it. This time, the music was "Elvis Presley" singing something about "blue suede shoes." Murray appeared in a Flowered shirt, shorts, a straw hat and sandals, while holding a large cup that said: "Starbucks."

"I was on vacation. This better be important."

"Sorry. I have met a princess in disguise. I don't know what to say to get her so she'll go out with me for lunch."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"You want to waste a wish on getting this woman to go out with you?"

"There is nothing more important. By the way, all of this wealth is not helping. In fact, it's making everything more difficult for some reason. She's not ... impressed."

"Tell her you like what she's wearing."

"Perhaps I should say I 'hate nukes.'"

"In this place, it couldn't hurt. I'm a Republican, myself. Are you sure this is your second wish?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"O.K., this is what you do. It never fails. You go out there and say: 'You know, I have a problem because I'm supposed to have lunch with Steven Spielberg and I don't want to go by myself, because last time, Steve and Tom (Tom Hanks, he's an actor or something), they each showed up with a beautiful woman. I felt kind of insecure all by myself. So, uh, I thought, next time I see these guys -- we like to go bowling on Tuesdays -- I'd show up with a devastatingly beautiful blonde (like you, as a matter of fact). Just to show off a little. Whatta ya say?"

"That's the most idiotic thing that I have ever heard."

"It works."

Somebody came into the bathroom, a thin, bespectacled visitor from NYU. After the guy left, Murray resumed his disquisition.

"Look, I'm a genie. I know about getting women."

Murray seemed so confident. Sinbad agreed and made this his second wish. Sinbad exited the bathroom and approached the princess. She was stacking books as she said over her shoulder.

"You want to grab a sandwich or something?"

"Sure." Sinbad's charm had succeeded once more.

They strolled further downtown and headed for "The Dragon Lady," a vegeterian and "highly spiritual lunchenette" -- they called it a "lunchenette" because it was mostly for women -- a lunchenette that was painted black on the outside. Inside, antique tables made of black marble had white and red checkered table cloths on them, a slim vase with a single blood-colored rose was at the center of each table.

Posters of Virginia Woolf, Silvia Plath, Bette Davis and Barbara Stanwick shared wall space with a huge poster for the t.v. show "Ellen," along with an advertisement for a dance at something called "Meow Mix." Sinbad was the only male in the place. All of the waitpersons -- "attendant wait staff!" -- wore black t-shirts and pants. They were waited on by a Sicilian woman named "Diana" with an elongated face, jet black hair, painted and highly arched eyebrows that made her look like a combination of Morticia on The Adams Family and Natasha on the old Bullwinkle cartoons. Diana's nails were as red as the flowers. Diana's lips were also painted fire-hydrant read -- blood seemed to drip from them, perhaps it does! -- her teeth were sharp and pointed.

"What'll you have?"

The look of undiluted hatred in Diana's dark eyes, combined with the venom in her voice to make Sinbad's appetite disappear.

"I'll have the yogurt pineapple surprise and a diet Coke."

Sherry asked for "... a veggie burger, Perrier, and a single, perfect apple."

"What a lovely restaurant." Sinbad wondered if the place might be available for funerals. They spoke easily during lunch, laughed a great deal, agreeing to call each other in the future, except that Sinbad noticed the stares from Diana (who owned the place) and from several of Diana's employees, who seemed just as malignant and hostile to Sinbad's newfound wealth -- or maybe it was his obvious and astonishing virility that offended them -- as their evil mistress was (and always would be) hostile, poisoned by a kind of hatred.

Sinbad walked Sherry back to the bookstore after lunch, realizing that Sherry "really liked him," also that he wanted to see her again. Sinbad's wealth was an obstacle. The hostility of her so-called "friends" would make happiness a problem for Sherry -- whoever entered her life, man or woman. In fact, it was really the thought of Sherry's happines that seemed to disturb Diana, for some reason, along with the possibility of anyone's happiness or laughter.

Joy not only offends evil persons, but it is literally unbearable to them. Hence, the hostility on the part of persons consumed by the cancer of hatred to all forms of love. Hatred of laughter, delight in causing pain were things that Sinbad recognized and opposed, but that also baffled him, defeating all efforts at understanding. Misery spreads like a sexually transmitted disease -- insisting on the greater misery of others. A poet named Milton described this as Lucifer's greatest suffering, the loss of love for the sake of pride.

A great wizard said that in some unfortunate persons, like this Diana, "the taste for the other, that is the very capacity for enjoying Goodness -- in the form of the welfare and happiness of another person -- is quenched." Evil persons wish to destroy any possibility of genuine meeting or connection for others as well as themselves. Persons hostile to love always live in hell. Sinbad feared that hell hovered near Sherry's life and, eventually, it would seek to devour her. Why such misfortune should befall Sherry, Sinbad could not say.

That night Sinbad slept badly. Tossing and turning. The expensive, plush, massive bed and silk sheets felt like sackcloth. He was far less comfortable than in the park the night before. The stars he had seen the previous night surpassed the beauty of this painted ceiling. Dante -- who must have been a Muslim -- had been right to say that no one could sleep in a more splendid palace than the man who slept under the stars. In the morning, Sinbad made up his mind and called upon his genie one last time.

"Do you know how early this is?" Murray wore flame-retardent pijamas with pictures of bugs bunny on them, also big slippers that were furry, like a bear's paws. A night cap rested on his head at a jaunty angle.

"Sorry. Look, I want to go back to the way I was. You can keep the apartment, the clothes, money. I just want to find Sherry. Move to the Village. Maybe do a little painting or get on another ship and sail away."

"You're not thinking. Don't you know that, in this city, 'money is the meaning of life'! Adjust! What's wrong with you?"

"It's not for me, no offense."

"There's a lot of women in this town. Sherry's nothing special. I can get you women that you would not believe. All it takes is a little cash."

"I don't think so. It's just not right for me. I like my freedom. All this money is like a ball and chain. I feel weighed down by it. Oppressed. I'll be happy finding enough to live on and that sense of possibility that fills your soul when all the ropes are cut and you sail away in your life."

"Here. This is my analyst's card. He's got an office on Park Avenue. He makes you fill out this long questionaire, then he's into primal screaming and aroma therapy. You'll like him."

"Look, Murray, I'm not criticizing your genie skills. But the 'Path of the Genie' is not really for me. I just want Sherry and a few other special people in my life, a chance to create some beauty, to think new thoughts, and experience life. You know what I mean?"

"You need to get in touch with your inner adult."

"Maybe you're right. Is it O.K. if I just give everything to charity?"

"I'll take it off your hands. Prices are going through the roof right now. I'm an investment wiz. Listen, I can do a little love potion for you as a going away present. This 'Sherry' will be crazy about you."

"No, it's no good that way. That's like money. It kills all genuineness, emotional truth. What I want is the ultimate magic, not the kind you can buy or get with regular, everyday tricks. You know?"

"I see what you mean. Lots of luck. Here, take this rabbit's foot. It couldn't hurt."

Sinbad went back to Strand Books. Sherry no longer worked there. He tried everywhere, even "The Dragon Lady" -- which was closed -- since cops raided the place after drug selling and illegal gambling were taking place in that establishment. Diana was looking at "life without parole." This was probably an improvement for Diana -- definitely what she deserves. No one knew where Sherry was to be found. Her place was empty. In fact, Sherry seemed to be wrapping up all the loose ends to put a final ... "punctuation mark" on this adventure.

A merchant vessel was sailing for France. Sinbad dreamed of visiting Paris, which he hoped would help ease his pain. Sinbad signed up as a seaman. Arriving to find his quarters, Sinbad discovered the skipper on this vessel playing chess with the first mate. The first mate was a husky brunette named "Victoria" and the skipper had light brown hair, green eyes, a cloth cap and was wearing a lovely smile when she saw her Sinbad again ...

This is all that we know of Sinbad's excellent New York adventure, and Allah is omniscient. So glory be to Him, whom the tides of time cannot waste away, nor does chance or change affect His sway. And peace be upon the Lord's Chosen One among His creatures, our Lord Mohammed, the Prince of humankind, through whom we send our prayers to our Lord for a good and divine end.