WHO: Pan & Echo WHEN: Sunday mid-day (March 30th) WHERE: Central Park; near the Reservoir Bridge WHAT: Flowers for everyone. A reunion. WARNINGS:Probably none.
The weather was awful.
Pan was kind enough not to be inclined toward cursing Persephone for it, or anyone else for that matter; it was probably down to the whole 'polar vortex' thing, which he also didn't approve of even remotely. But no one had asked him. (Surely they should have, considering how obviously important he was, but -- no? No? Fine.) The thing was, his plans were all off, because it was supposed to be spring enough, even in New York, that it was comfortable to wander about outside. Inhabit the park as he did every season. Make his students wander around and write about things.
Hand people flowers, sometimes while dancing a bit.
Well, the weather was staying awful -- whole it had finally hit forty-eight degrees, it was still the sort of overcast rain-any-second cloudy that most people found dismal and depressing, even as the flowers were trying to come out of their buds and Central Park was really doing its best to take the strange climate hit and move through it.
Pan made it his duty, therefore, to cheer people up. It was finally warm enough, if liable to start raining again at any moment, and with the wind chill it didn't feel like it was forty-eight degrees.
So he wore all-weather boots, and a raincoat, and set out with arms full of fresh lilies and his pipes.
In almost no time at all, people were definitely cheered up; he sat at the entrance to the Reservoir Bridge, on the edge of the bridge, thankfully not falling backward, playing cheerful songs and having absolutely no method of financial collection with him. So he didn't get tips. (He didn't want them.) He got smiles, instead. From the people who liked the music, from the people he handed small bunches of lilies to.
And a couple of people even recognized him from Broadway, said to each other "hey isn't that that guy?" or asked him for his autograph; he'd stop playing, obliging, and then go back.
When the rain ceased, he did a couple of little dances; children and a few Stomp performers joined in, once, and then the rain started again, and he was back to playing, and passing out lilies. Everything he did was certainly always a show, and he didn't miss a face -- anyone who crossed that bridge got, at the very least, a smile.