City Life, Part Nine: Pilgrimage To Oprah
Is That All There Is?
Thursday nights, I work at La Sardine, a French bistro, exactly across the street from the entrance to Harpo Studios. Not a shift goes by there that I don't see several women stop suddenly, eyes and mouth agape, beneath the sign that reads: "The Oprah Winfrey Show".
Sometimes cars driving by slam on their brakes. The female passengers pile out, abandoning their vehicles in mid-street, leaving the doors open.
Sometimes they ask me if I've ever seen Oprah. The answer is, "Yes; one time in eight months."
They "oo", "ah", take pictures, hug each other, occasionally shed tears and otherwise just stand there beatified as if they were witnessing The Second Coming of Christ.
Or, maybe they're just tired and disappointed that they came all this way only to find the doors to Harpo Studios locked and me standing in front of a French restaurant.
Sometimes I cry for the same reasons.