From: nebusj-@-rpi-.edu   
      
   	Despite my repeated avowals that we would get a taxi back from   
   Daisy May's barbeque place we didn't.  It seemed like simple logic: we   
   were only a few streets south of Rockefeller Center, and we were just a   
   couple avenues to the west, and besides there weren't any taxis on the   
   street right here but if we kept walking we'd be closer regardless   
   whenever we did get a taxi.  And so before my father and I quite knew it   
   we were brushing up against those publishers with buildings that pretend   
   to be part of Rockefeller Center but nobody counts as such.  It was   
   getting nearer to half-past 2:30, with the line we were promised forming   
   no sooner than 3 pm.   
      
   	By the stairs to go up to the mezzanine level --- where we would   
   hopefully get tickets and line up to go in, a change from 1990s procedure   
   where we lined up by the elevators on the first floor --- was an   
   easel-supported sign for Late Night and several pages telling us that we   
   were about fifteen minutes too early and couldn't wait here because of   
   fire code regulations.   
      
   	At the risk of sounding cynical I suspect pages are told they may   
   use ``fire code regulations'' as authority to direct the public in any way   
   they wish.  But they were watching us and I know that means to go get out   
   of their line of attention for a while.   
      
   	So we went to the lower floor of Rockefeller Center where, it turns   
   out, my father had somehow never been and never considered going.  He   
    didn't realize it was full of shops, or restaurants, or Starbucks, which   
   he pointed out to me so that I would know that yes, my mother could get   
   Starbucks coffee here.  He found most fascinating a sushi place with some   
   nicely crafted plates of sushi on little foot bridges and the like.   
      
   	I did end up buying things here: at the ``Top of the Rock''   
   souvenir store I picked up some postcards but not a magnet, and wondered   
   about the ``Top of the Rock'' concession being as low as it is possible   
   for the public to get here.   
      
   	By now it had to be very nearly a quarter-hour, so we went back   
   to the mezzanine staircase where there was that sight both reassuring and   
   distressing: a crowd of people around the stairs, some of them going up.   
   Ahead of us.  210 seats.   
      
   --   
   								Joseph Nebus   
   ------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)