Somnolence in the City

I love my balcony.

In an apartment that can best be described as spatially spartan, my balcony is a saving grace: a gateway to the fresh air and a sliver of sky. I take deep breaths there. It’s a great place to just sit, and since I have very relaxing lounge chairs—they lean back so that it’s almost like you’re in the cockpit of a spaceship—it is also a good place to nap.

Generally, my naps have taken place on lazy Saturdays or Sundays, when a book just can’t keep my eyelids aloft. It’s generally a brief one too, since there are built-in alarms outside. Birds, planes overhead, the occasional honking horn.

The other night, however, I had come home from happy hour. As is the custom, the ‘hour’ stretched into several, over which time I had a few drinks. When I came home, I went out on the balcony to just look up at the glare-muzzled stars above.

Instead, I fell asleep.

About 50 windows have a clear view of my balcony. There are spread symmetrically, like white-paned dominoes, over the back of an apartment building that faces the back of mine. There’s no reason to believe that anyone be looking down at me from these glassy perches. But if they did, they would see a sprawled body in his Friday clothes, mouth open in a muted snore, bared before the world in alfresco slumber until about 6:30am.

But hey, if they want to watch, let them watch. I’ll take regular outdoor naps, and spend nights under the stars if that’s what the people want. It’ll be the latest reality TV extravaganza—and we’ll call it “Somnolence in the City.” Can’t be any worse than all the other reality shows, and I’d get paid to sleep. Win-win.

alternate reality

I have reached a point where I think television network executives may be playing a trick--a perpetual prank to see who's paying attention.

Did I really see an ad for “Deal or No Deal—Spring Break!” last night on television?

Did I see an ad for a show called “Farmer Wants a Wife” in which several city beauties come to the farm and vie for a farmer’s affections?

Is there really a television show called “Deion and Pilar Sanders: Prime Time Love”? Was there really a sequel to “I Love New York” and “Flavor of Love” and “Rock of Love”?

I am not, nor have I ever been, a fan of reality TV (maybe one of the reasons I don’t have cable). I thought it would fade away. It hasn’t. It’s probably more popular now than ever, or at least that’s how it seems--and everyone seems to like watching it but me. The writer’s strike gave these shows an opening, and they started multiplying like rabbits. Now, they are everywhere.

Thankfully, the writer’s strike is over. And 30 Rock last night was a brilliant episode making fun of reality TV. Ahhh…. I’m not alone.