LOGAN
Sunday morning begins with thanking a police horse named Pancakes.
Pancakes was the key to our first action item in Hazel’s plan that she’s calling Operation Lucky Charms.
As we made our way uptown on the subway, Hazel prepped me on our first order of business: securing a horseshoe for luck and protection.
That’s what led us to Central Park to ask a mounted police officer if he had any extra horseshoes on him or at the station. Apparently, that’s not how horseshoes work. I think this is about to be another Advil moment where Hazel doesn’t find what she’s looking for, lets it go, and moves on.
But she doesn’t. She’s persistent and asks if there’s another police horse nearby. This prompts the officer to contact the mobile horseshoe unit, which was currently on its way to meet an officer across the park.
Which is how we end up sprinting to the east side to watch a blacksmith change out the shoes on Pancakes. It didn’t take much convincing from Hazel to get them to agree to let us keep the horseshoe.
And now, Action Item #2 involves us crawling around on the grass looking for four-leaf clovers.
“They’re Celtic charms. Finding one is very rare. There are like, ten thousand three-leaf clovers for every single four-leaf,” Hazel explains, referencing the printout she’s brought along. “Look for general shapes. Four-leaf clovers will look more like squares, not triangles. I’ll be over there.” She points to an area half a football field away. “If you find one, give it to me, okay? That’s supposed to double your luck.”
She heads to her own patch of grass, leaving me to mine.
Never have I ever had to seek out luck. It’s always found me. But I’m open to trying, no matter how many questions I have about Hazel’s plan.
Two hours later, once Central Park looks like one giant, blurry square without a four-leaf clover in sight, we take a break.
Hazel releases a quiet groan as she pushes her knuckles into her lower back. She pulls her printed-out plan from her bag. “There are only twenty-five days until opening night,” she reminds me. “We should look for ladybugs while we’re here. What do you think our chances of seeing a shooting star are?”
“Rare, but not impossible.”
“Good, that’s the spirit.” She skims her list. “How do you feel about goldfish? You might need to adopt one. Getting a horse is probably out of the question.” She pauses and looks up at me for confirmation.
After a couple of seconds, I realize she’s serious and still waiting for an answer. “Mrs. Walker—my landlord—she probably wouldn’t allow it,” I say. “And we’ve already reached our one-horse limit for the building.”
“Maybe you need to move to a prewar. Heard they have a two-horse limit,” she teases. “Wait—Mrs. Walker, like Toffee’s owner, Mrs. Walker?”
I nod. “The one and only.”
“Okay, well, what about rabbits?” she asks. “I didn’t have it in me to add a rabbit’s foot to this list. But a real one with all its limbs, that might work.”
“Mrs. Walker might be okay with it, but I don’t think Toffee would be.”
Hazel sighs. “Fine. You can’t say I didn’t try.”
No. I can’t. It’s incredibly sweet how hard she’s trying.
“In some cultures, cats can ward off evil spirits and protect humans,” she says, tapping her thumb against her printout. “Maybe you need to keep Toffee with you at all times.”
“He’d love that.”
Hazel smiles. “It’d be terrible for the birds of New York City, but good for you.” She points to her sheet. “Pennies. If we find any, don’t walk on by. Pick that shit up! Only if you see heads, though. And if we find a rainbow, we should probably follow it.” She looks up at the sky, seemingly weighing in her mind the chances of seeing a rainbow on this sunny and cool October day.
“I’ll keep an eye out,” I promise. “You think these charms are actually going to work?”
“This is just Phase One. We need to get the obvious out of the way.”
There’s no way she believes in this stuff, and yet she’s going along with it. For me.
“You know the Charging Bull statue down on Wall Street?” she asks. “Rumor has it, rubbing its… you know… is supposed to be a good omen. Thoughts on that?”
Instead of going with “hard pass” like I want to, I say, “I’ll rub a bronze bull’s family jewels if I must.”
