ACT 2, SCENE 8
SETTING: We are in the Office of the Mayor, the lights are dimmed. A ceiling fan spins dimly, dimming the light of the light attached to the spinning ceiling fan. Things are dim. There I am, dimly lit in the corner — a ghost.
Mayor de Blasio: It’s over, isn’t it?
The ghosts of all former mayors are present, only Mayor Bloomberg is visible. Bloomberg, greyed and wrinkly, stands center stage.
Mayor Bloomberg: It’s been a long 8 years, hasn’t it Bill?
Mayor DeBlasio: Not long enough. If only I had more time…I could’ve…
Mayor Bloomberg: Yes, Bill, we all feel the same.
Ghost of Mayor Ed Koch: It’s true, I’m still not sure how I was doing.
Ghost of Mayor Dinkins: There’s a time and a place for these worries, but that time has passed. Rest now, Bill, don’t trouble yourself.
Mayor de Blasio: But, I can go back, right?
Ghost of Mayor LaGuardia: It’s unwise, Bill.
Ghost of Mayor Giuliani: Don’t tell him what’s wise and unwise, you’re named after a damn airport.
Mayor DeBlasio: But it was so much simpler back then, everything was. Oh, I just want to see it again, the city as it was! Please, Mike, let me see it again!
Mayor Bloomberg: Ok, Bill. Let’s go.
We are transported to the glorious year of 2013, the year in which the city voted in favor of prosperity, forward-thinking policy, and me! The air is cleaner, the city is buzzing with activity. Obama’s presence is felt, yet unseen. (Note: Contact Barack to see if he would be interested in replacing Bloomberg’s role, neither of them are returning my calls.)
Mayor de Blasio: Look, Mike! Look at them, all so happy and hopeful! They put their faith in me, they put their faith in lil’ ol’ Bill! Why there’s you! And there’s Bill and Hillary! Golly, what I wouldn’t give to talk to them! There’s Letitia, I could say the same about her! “Hey, Titia’, keep an eye on Andy’s hands!” Everyone is facing me, no one is turned away…
Hillary Clinton: Well, I wish I could get this kind of reception!
Bill Clinton: There’s something about that boy!
Chuck Schumer: We need a de Blasio in the Senate! Or, maybe, in the White House?
The gathered party leaders converse among themselves, discussing my potential place in their liberal pantheon. I walk up to them, but my presence is not acknowledged.
Mayor Bloomberg: They won’t be able to hear you, Bill. No one can.
Mayor de Blasio: I know…it’s just…
Mayor Bloomberg: You wish you could stop it. You wish you could stop yourself from taking the job.
Mayor de Blasio: I do. Is it wrong to think that?
Mayor Bloomberg: Not at all, we’ve all felt that. Except for Rudy, those were his “Wonder Years.”
Mayor de Blasio: I want it to be like before — when I was an idea rather than a reality! When I actually believed that I could keep the hearts of New Yorkers aflame with the good ol’ de Blasio charm. When people were intimidated by my height.
Mayor Bloomberg: You are incredibly tall, they can’t take that away from you.
Mayor de Blasio: Thank you, Mike. I am.
Mayor Bloomberg: But Bill, you know what’s important to remember?
Mayor de Blasio: What, Mike?
Mayor Bloomberg: They don’t realize how good they had it with you. They’ll realize that, with only a few flaws, you were that steady partner who kept things balanced in their lives. Their rock.
Mayor de Blasio: Their rock…
The lights dim, the crowds bearing signs in support of me flow out to the sides of the stage. Mayor Bloomberg takes leave. Only I remain. A single spotlight points directly at me, one that will be big enough to cover the length of me. (Note: I am 6' 5", taller than Stephen Curry.)
Mayor de Blasio: Goodbye, New York. Goodbye to the smell of your roasted nuts. Goodbye to your pizza, so messy and greasy. Goodbye to you people who get angry at people who like to keep their hands clean and their clothes grease-free. Goodbye Yankee hat, thank God. Goodbye subway, goodbye taxis! Goodbye to bike riding in the fresh Brooklyn morn’! Oh, New York, you’re too wonderful for anyone to manage you!
I am lowered into the stage, gracefully. We should leave a few moments here for the audience to temper their sniffling, as this is an emotional moment, which is a moment where people tend to cry. Mike (Or Barack, God willing) takes center stage.
Mayor Bloomberg: Most everyone is asleep in New York City, except Mayor Adams. He is in New Jersey. The street lights buzz with a hum of resilience, the city has weathered worse before. Chris Cuomo has caught the train for Albany, forgetting that his brother no longer resides there. There are stars crisscrossing the sky, but they remain unseen by the folks in New York City. One does manage to break through the light pollution, straining itself hard to be seen for 16 hours. And the people of this town should probably get some rest, but they choose not to. Well, it’s 11 o’clock now. You folks should get some rest, or not. You can always go dancing now that those pesky Cabaret Laws have been repealed. See? Even though he’s gone, we should always be thanking him. Goodnight.
(I haven’t decided if I should come out to deliver one more monologue regarding my Presidential run, it might seem forced and out of nowhere. Will revisit.)
