The latest recollection in my New York conversation was with an attorney; a lawyer. Actually there were two attorneys and two conversations. Here goes.
Both stick in my mind but the first to tell you about was on my flight home. This attorney was a fellow passenger and in the seat next to me. The flight was quite long and he seemed to sleep for most of it but towards the end we got into a bit of a conversation, with me asking about his line of work.
“I’m an attorney, a lawyer as you Brits say”
“Oh that’s interesting, what kind of law do you practice”
“Contract law” he said, a little apologetically “you know, everyone seems to think contract law is so dull and boring” he said
I replied with “well in my line of work, before I retired, I had quite a lot to do with lawyers, so I can certainly appreciate your profession”.
I explained I had worked for the Probation Service. In the early days I interacted with lawyers in court. Latterly I needed a different kind of lawyer, those who could help with contracts and some of the remedies I might have needed. I once even needed advice about copyright law.
I went onto explain that I had been sent on various training courses about contract law and had found it quite interesting. His eyes lit up. Furthermore, I explained, the lawyer who led the course was a retired contract lawyer and he made it sound all so interesting.
“It was so interesting, I remember thinking, if I ever get a second career, I think I’d go into law and probably contract law as it would suit the way my brain is wired” I said, as we started to descend through the clouds below.
His whole body language and tone changed, as if he was meeting a long-lost friend; someone who appreciated him for his work and life’s career. His tone had changed from the vaguely apologetic through to one of excitement. He went onto say how much he was taught about the British legal system and how this has shaped many of the legal systems around the world. The principle of being innocent until proven guilty, being tried by your peers and so on.
As we came through the clouds, we could see the green and pleasant land of England below. The aircraft leaned this way and then the other as we got lined up towards the final approach.
“I wish we could have more time to talk” he said. “When we land I’m transferring onto a different flight for my onwards journey, I could buy you a coffee and we can talk more, maybe? Actually will I be allowed to smoke anywhere in the airport, can I go outside? We can talk there, please?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know about smoking areas, or whether you will be allowed through security just to have a cigarette. Besides, I need to….”
And then his face dropped. He knew I wasn’t’t a long lost friend to hear him talk about the “beautiful nature of the lovingly created contracts which bring joy to the lives of my clients”
I felt quite bad at leaving him as I got off the plane. He was clearly wanting a friend who he could latch onto, someone who would listen to him talk about the law as a musician talks about that special instrument. I wished him well and he smiled, with a tiny quiver of his lip.
The other lawyer was a young man, perhaps late twenties. I met him on a train heading into Penn Street station, Manhattan. He was well dressed, though casual, also well groomed, you could just tell. He used crutches, although you could tell they were new to him, he certainly wasn’t a natural as he carefully moved around, making sure he kept his right foot off the ground.
“What happened, do you mind me asking?”
“Oh no, that’s not a problem. I’m happy to tell you although I’m sorry to say I’m not proud of what happened” he said
I looked a little puzzled, even raising my eye brows. “Go on….” I said
“I got drunk and fell over. That’s it, I fell over and hurt myself. Then I had to go to ER, the emergency room”
“Oh that’s code for Accident & Emergency isn’t it?” I asked, even though I knew the answer, it’s just I didn’t want to be too pushy.
“The truth is, my father passed away and I’m just travelling back from his funeral”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, I didn’t mean to pry” other people were starting to pay attention to our words as the train veered and rattled its way over different tracks, slowing down all the time and going from daylight to the gloom of the Hudson River tunnel.
The train arrived at Penn Street where we all had to get off the train. He said he needed to get up to the surface and take a cab. I offered to wheel his case, along with mine, as I could see he was going to have a real problem doing that – and probably falling over again. He thanked me and said he’d like to accept my offer.
As we made our way through the various passage ways, underground junctions in the incomprehensible station, up escalators and so on, we eventually made it to street level and the conversation continued.
“When I heard the news about my father, I couldn’t handle it, so I got drunk. I’m not used to liquor, strong liquor. I got so drunk I didn’t know what I was doing but then I fell over and broke a bone”
By now we were right by the place where a taxi could be flagged down. The driver helped him in, plus his bag and I wished him well. Off zoomed the yellow taxi, nothing as impressive as those huge old taxis, synonymous with those old movies where they growled around like humpbacked cockroaches. Instead it was a Toyota Prius, smart, efficient, but bland and not the material of movies at all.
Off he went into the craziness of the incredible city.
I do hope he’ll be okay.
