The Flip Side: Lizzie and Ted's Great Misadventure
Ted and Lizzie found the nearest empty park bench available, and took a seat. Having disembarked the subway three stops early, the two needed to figure out how to get to Anachronism Fest, the big steampunk convention. It was somewhere in Central Park. The question was where.
Lizzie felt embarrassed. Her phone’s GPS stopped working sometime the night before, and Ted’s phone wasn’t working at all. They also forgot to grab the paper map, which conveniently sat in their hotel room. Lizzie felt like they could wing it, having been a frequent visitor to Manhattan previous. No such luck; they were lost.
On the inbound flight the day before, Lizzie had bragged about how she felt like she knew Manhattan like the back of her hand, and perhaps she had lived there in a previous life. Today, she realized her folly. Everything was too bright, too noisy, and too little like the Manhattan she remembered.
Perhaps it was just jetlag or nerves. She wanted to have fun at Anachronism Fest. She had never attended a steampunk convention before, and didn’t know what to expect. She also wanted to impress Ted, but he’d been acting strangely all week. Distracted.
Going to Anachronism Fest was his idea, but now Lizzie wondered if she’d regret this. He spent most of his time fine tuning his persona, or tinkering with his dragon for Fest, disengaged from her. She worried that he was planning to break up with her. Funny, Lizzie felt like she was really beginning to fall in love with him too.
Lizzie managed to get directions from a fuchsia haired guy who was hanging out at the knish cart, so that was a good sign. As she headed back to Ted who had promised to hold down the fort at the park bench across the street the Grand Army Plaza, the fuchsia haired guy gave two tips. First, add mustard to the knish, because it was the New York way to eat one. Second, they could get to their destination easily on foot, and while it was about fifteen blocks, it was less of a hassle than trekking back to the subway.
Lizzie sat on the bench and handed Ted a knish with two packets of mustard. As he began to eat, she showed Ted a napkin with a rudimentary map drawn on it. She traced her finger over a dotted line.
“The guy that drew this said to walk up this way, past the pond and the zoo. Then we cross a street, and we’re at the mall portion of Central Park. That’s where the convention is,” Lizzie said.
“Sounds good to me,” Ted said between mouthfuls of knish. “He was right about the mustard. This is amazing!”
Lizzie pocketed the napkin, and began to unwrap the knish. She looked up and noticed how brilliant the sky seemed. There wasn’t a cloud anywhere. The sun’s reflection bounced off of walls of glass across the street, causing the eye to either look up into the endless blue sky, or down at the see of yellow taxis, busses and automobiles inching along the way- horns blaring. Somewhere in between stood the General Sherman’s gilded monument. Sherman seemed to stare at the couple from across the street in the Grand Army Plaza. He and the angel beside him seemed to give Lizzie and Ted a “Go, adventurers!” benediction. The angel next to Sherman waved reassuringly.
Worried that today would be entirely too hot, Ted and Lizzie opted for their lighter costumes. Ted left his coat at the hotel and opted for a tan and white pinstriped waistcoat, a white shirt, and tan trousers and a black ascot. Lizzie wanted to showcase her persona as ‘The Violinist,’ which meant deviating from the normal steampunk get up of cogs and sprockets and corsets. Instead, she opted for a summery light blue floor length sleek tea gown, and a strand of brass beads. On her head, she donned a blue headband, which framed her lavender curls nicely. She looked like a modern Clarisse Coudert Nast.
“Actually, could I see that map? I’ll hold it while you eat your knish.” Ted said. Lizzie nodded, and retrieved it from her pocket before resuming work on her snack.
Lizzie added a bit of mustard to her knish, closed her eyes, and took a bite. As the potato and mustard escaped the breading, she heard a distinctive popping sound, but she was sure it was not from the snack itself. Still, she did not open her eyes. She wanted to relish the savory potato in her mouth. She tasted a little bit of pepper, a hint of garlic, and felt the distinct texture of parsley in the creamy potato mixture, which contrasted sharply with the vinegary yellow mustard.
With each bite, Lizzie heard more pops. With each bite the world seemed to right itself again.
Ted tapped her on the shoulder.
“Sweetheart, open your eyes a sec,” Ted said softly in her right ear. Grudgingly, she swallowed the knish and opened her eyes. Everything was different.
The air felt much cooler, causing Lizzie to shiver a little. The once endless blue sky was now obscured by dense dark clouds, which threatened to rain. Things were quieter too.
Ted cleared his throat. “Did you hear those popping sounds?” he asked.
Lizzie nodded, taking another bite of knish. She looked across the plaza to Sherman, who seemed to sparkle despite the overcast skies. The angel at his side looked angelic, as if given new life. Beneath, a Ford Model T puttered along East 59th.
“Look at that!” Lizzie said, elbowing Ted in the arm.
“Something’s wrong. They’re all like that. Look up at the buildings. It’s like we stepped through a portal.”
She looked up. No more were the tall glass facades to fence Ted and Lizzie in of the Manhattan they knew. Rather, these buildings looked distinctly shorter, browner, and almost Victorian in style. Lizzie nearly dropped her knish.
“Woah,” she said.
Pedestrians strolled past them into Central Park, one or two paused to point at Lizzie’s lavender locks and giggle. Noting the stares, Ted offered his hat.
“They’ll stop staring,” he said.
Lizzie refused the hat, and reached into a bag.
“I have my own, thanks.” She pulled out a small blue hat adorned with a peacock feather, and adjusted it on her head.
A gust of wind picked up, and carried a newspaper with it. Ted scrambled to catch it, hoping for a hint of something to explain their shift into wherever they were. He caught it, and tried to fold it up neatly. Glancing at the front page, he gasped.
Lizzie stood, and Ted ran to her. “Look!” Ted pointed. “Either we just got our hands on an antique, or-“
It was The New York Times, dated Friday, June 15, 1917. Headlines announced progress in the War, America’s new alliance with Russia, and that songwriter Irving Berlin was one of the latest drafted for the U.S. Army.
“What the?” Lizzie paused. She surveyed the area again. A man in a crisp blue suit was walking toward her, fiddling with his bowler hat to keep it from blowing away with the breeze. She rushed to approach him.
“Pardon me, Sir?”
The man looked up and tipped his hat to her.
“Madame?” He said softly.
“Please tell me today’s date? I’ve seemed to have forgotten, and well, I’m worried we’ve missed a luncheon with our friends,” she stammered.
The man smiled. “Why it’s Friday the fifteenth. Does that help?”
“Not Thursday then?” Lizzie frowned.
“Afraid not,” the man said with a shake of his head. “Oh, perhaps you might help me now?”
“Of course,” Ted said, as he strode to Lizzie’s side.
“Have you seen a young blonde haired man around here? About as tall as myself, winning smile, most likely wearing a blue suit?”
Lizzie and Ted glanced at each other. “Sorry,” Ted said, “We were busy studying this map and eating knishes to notice anyone like you describe. Wait- who gave us directions?”
“He had fuchsia hair and wore shorts,” Lizzie said.
“Oh, right,” Ted said. “Unfortunately, we haven’t.”
“Well, if you do, please tell him to call on his mate Bertram? He missed our luncheon as well,” the man said. He tipped his bowler once more, and walked away.
“Think we should follow him?” Ted asked. “You may be fine with all of this, but I’m trying really hard not to panic right now. Did we really just go back in time a full century?”
Lizzie smiled. “I wish! Maybe he’s just a very good actor. I feel a little relieved, truthfully.”
“Relieved?” Ted’s eyes widened. “Liz, this is not even possible, save for stories of fiction like ‘Fire Watch,’ or ‘Star Trek’ or ‘Outlander’ or-“
“We’re here for a steampunk convention called Anachronism Fest, and you’re worried about ending up in the past now? This is the stuff of dreams, Theodore! We can leave our lives behind, and try out this fantasy adventure on for size as a team! We’re ‘The Violinist and Marionettist,” not strange niche cosplayers with our heads in the clouds! This!” Lizzie gesticulated wildly, “Is seriously awesome!”
“I need to sit down,” Ted sighed, and sloughed off to the park bench. Lizzie frowned. “Oh no! He totally planned to break up with me,” she thought. She made her way to the bench, and sat next to Ted.
Tears rolled down Ted’s face, startling Lizzie.
“Should I give you space?” she asked, clasping her hand in Ted’s. He shook his head.
“Look, the timing is way off, but I really need to do this now, before the day goes any further sideways,” Ted said, taking his hand back from Lizzie. Feeling rebuffed, she stood, and took a step back. Suddenly, everything seemed wrong, and she felt tears sting her eyes.
“I had wanted to wait for later, but maybe it’s for the best that I do this now,” Ted stood and took a step closer to Lizzie. “How do I do this?”
“You’re dumping me?” Lizzie’s face flushed red, and tears rolled down in earnest.
“What? No! I want you to- uh, will you marry me? Do I kneel? Do I just clasp your hands in mine? Do I ask you over champagne at the masquerade? This has been bugging me all week, and I’m blowing it, aren’t I?”
“You wait until we’re in the middle of 1917 to break up with me?” Lizzie tried not to yell. “Why would you do something like this? You want to ruin New York for me? My first fest? And you’re asking to - wait, did you say ‘marry’?”
“I’ll kneel,” Ted muttered to himself. He lowered himself, and offered a velvet box to Lizzie, whose mouth had fallen open. This was definitely unexpected. Suddenly, things fell into place.
“Assuming we never make it back, and even if we do, I really want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Ted said.
“That’s cheesy, but YES!” Lizzie’s tears fell quickly, but she was smiling now. No regrets, she thought. A small group of onlookers had paused to watch the proposal. They applauded as Ted slipped a ring on his betrothed’s finger.
Author notes: Lizzie's costume was inspired by Clarisse Coudert.
Irving Berlin was drafted for WWI in 1917, and it was big news. While serving, he wrote songs meant to inspire men to enlist. The song "For Your Country and My Country" would become a hit in July that year.
Bertram appears courtesy of roina_arwen, and appears in our intersection pieces from Week 18. You can read about him here, here, and here.
The fuchsia haired giver of directions is Syd, who also appeared in this story from Week 18.
The knish is a very yummy snack. Here's a recipe that you can try at home.
Thanks to zedmanauk for acting as a beta. Thank you for reading!
Lizzie felt embarrassed. Her phone’s GPS stopped working sometime the night before, and Ted’s phone wasn’t working at all. They also forgot to grab the paper map, which conveniently sat in their hotel room. Lizzie felt like they could wing it, having been a frequent visitor to Manhattan previous. No such luck; they were lost.
On the inbound flight the day before, Lizzie had bragged about how she felt like she knew Manhattan like the back of her hand, and perhaps she had lived there in a previous life. Today, she realized her folly. Everything was too bright, too noisy, and too little like the Manhattan she remembered.
Perhaps it was just jetlag or nerves. She wanted to have fun at Anachronism Fest. She had never attended a steampunk convention before, and didn’t know what to expect. She also wanted to impress Ted, but he’d been acting strangely all week. Distracted.
Going to Anachronism Fest was his idea, but now Lizzie wondered if she’d regret this. He spent most of his time fine tuning his persona, or tinkering with his dragon for Fest, disengaged from her. She worried that he was planning to break up with her. Funny, Lizzie felt like she was really beginning to fall in love with him too.
Lizzie managed to get directions from a fuchsia haired guy who was hanging out at the knish cart, so that was a good sign. As she headed back to Ted who had promised to hold down the fort at the park bench across the street the Grand Army Plaza, the fuchsia haired guy gave two tips. First, add mustard to the knish, because it was the New York way to eat one. Second, they could get to their destination easily on foot, and while it was about fifteen blocks, it was less of a hassle than trekking back to the subway.
Lizzie sat on the bench and handed Ted a knish with two packets of mustard. As he began to eat, she showed Ted a napkin with a rudimentary map drawn on it. She traced her finger over a dotted line.
“The guy that drew this said to walk up this way, past the pond and the zoo. Then we cross a street, and we’re at the mall portion of Central Park. That’s where the convention is,” Lizzie said.
“Sounds good to me,” Ted said between mouthfuls of knish. “He was right about the mustard. This is amazing!”
Lizzie pocketed the napkin, and began to unwrap the knish. She looked up and noticed how brilliant the sky seemed. There wasn’t a cloud anywhere. The sun’s reflection bounced off of walls of glass across the street, causing the eye to either look up into the endless blue sky, or down at the see of yellow taxis, busses and automobiles inching along the way- horns blaring. Somewhere in between stood the General Sherman’s gilded monument. Sherman seemed to stare at the couple from across the street in the Grand Army Plaza. He and the angel beside him seemed to give Lizzie and Ted a “Go, adventurers!” benediction. The angel next to Sherman waved reassuringly.
Worried that today would be entirely too hot, Ted and Lizzie opted for their lighter costumes. Ted left his coat at the hotel and opted for a tan and white pinstriped waistcoat, a white shirt, and tan trousers and a black ascot. Lizzie wanted to showcase her persona as ‘The Violinist,’ which meant deviating from the normal steampunk get up of cogs and sprockets and corsets. Instead, she opted for a summery light blue floor length sleek tea gown, and a strand of brass beads. On her head, she donned a blue headband, which framed her lavender curls nicely. She looked like a modern Clarisse Coudert Nast.
“Actually, could I see that map? I’ll hold it while you eat your knish.” Ted said. Lizzie nodded, and retrieved it from her pocket before resuming work on her snack.
Lizzie added a bit of mustard to her knish, closed her eyes, and took a bite. As the potato and mustard escaped the breading, she heard a distinctive popping sound, but she was sure it was not from the snack itself. Still, she did not open her eyes. She wanted to relish the savory potato in her mouth. She tasted a little bit of pepper, a hint of garlic, and felt the distinct texture of parsley in the creamy potato mixture, which contrasted sharply with the vinegary yellow mustard.
With each bite, Lizzie heard more pops. With each bite the world seemed to right itself again.
Ted tapped her on the shoulder.
“Sweetheart, open your eyes a sec,” Ted said softly in her right ear. Grudgingly, she swallowed the knish and opened her eyes. Everything was different.
The air felt much cooler, causing Lizzie to shiver a little. The once endless blue sky was now obscured by dense dark clouds, which threatened to rain. Things were quieter too.
Ted cleared his throat. “Did you hear those popping sounds?” he asked.
Lizzie nodded, taking another bite of knish. She looked across the plaza to Sherman, who seemed to sparkle despite the overcast skies. The angel at his side looked angelic, as if given new life. Beneath, a Ford Model T puttered along East 59th.
“Look at that!” Lizzie said, elbowing Ted in the arm.
“Something’s wrong. They’re all like that. Look up at the buildings. It’s like we stepped through a portal.”
She looked up. No more were the tall glass facades to fence Ted and Lizzie in of the Manhattan they knew. Rather, these buildings looked distinctly shorter, browner, and almost Victorian in style. Lizzie nearly dropped her knish.
“Woah,” she said.
Pedestrians strolled past them into Central Park, one or two paused to point at Lizzie’s lavender locks and giggle. Noting the stares, Ted offered his hat.
“They’ll stop staring,” he said.
Lizzie refused the hat, and reached into a bag.
“I have my own, thanks.” She pulled out a small blue hat adorned with a peacock feather, and adjusted it on her head.
A gust of wind picked up, and carried a newspaper with it. Ted scrambled to catch it, hoping for a hint of something to explain their shift into wherever they were. He caught it, and tried to fold it up neatly. Glancing at the front page, he gasped.
Lizzie stood, and Ted ran to her. “Look!” Ted pointed. “Either we just got our hands on an antique, or-“
It was The New York Times, dated Friday, June 15, 1917. Headlines announced progress in the War, America’s new alliance with Russia, and that songwriter Irving Berlin was one of the latest drafted for the U.S. Army.
“What the?” Lizzie paused. She surveyed the area again. A man in a crisp blue suit was walking toward her, fiddling with his bowler hat to keep it from blowing away with the breeze. She rushed to approach him.
“Pardon me, Sir?”
The man looked up and tipped his hat to her.
“Madame?” He said softly.
“Please tell me today’s date? I’ve seemed to have forgotten, and well, I’m worried we’ve missed a luncheon with our friends,” she stammered.
The man smiled. “Why it’s Friday the fifteenth. Does that help?”
“Not Thursday then?” Lizzie frowned.
“Afraid not,” the man said with a shake of his head. “Oh, perhaps you might help me now?”
“Of course,” Ted said, as he strode to Lizzie’s side.
“Have you seen a young blonde haired man around here? About as tall as myself, winning smile, most likely wearing a blue suit?”
Lizzie and Ted glanced at each other. “Sorry,” Ted said, “We were busy studying this map and eating knishes to notice anyone like you describe. Wait- who gave us directions?”
“He had fuchsia hair and wore shorts,” Lizzie said.
“Oh, right,” Ted said. “Unfortunately, we haven’t.”
“Well, if you do, please tell him to call on his mate Bertram? He missed our luncheon as well,” the man said. He tipped his bowler once more, and walked away.
“Think we should follow him?” Ted asked. “You may be fine with all of this, but I’m trying really hard not to panic right now. Did we really just go back in time a full century?”
Lizzie smiled. “I wish! Maybe he’s just a very good actor. I feel a little relieved, truthfully.”
“Relieved?” Ted’s eyes widened. “Liz, this is not even possible, save for stories of fiction like ‘Fire Watch,’ or ‘Star Trek’ or ‘Outlander’ or-“
“We’re here for a steampunk convention called Anachronism Fest, and you’re worried about ending up in the past now? This is the stuff of dreams, Theodore! We can leave our lives behind, and try out this fantasy adventure on for size as a team! We’re ‘The Violinist and Marionettist,” not strange niche cosplayers with our heads in the clouds! This!” Lizzie gesticulated wildly, “Is seriously awesome!”
“I need to sit down,” Ted sighed, and sloughed off to the park bench. Lizzie frowned. “Oh no! He totally planned to break up with me,” she thought. She made her way to the bench, and sat next to Ted.
Tears rolled down Ted’s face, startling Lizzie.
“Should I give you space?” she asked, clasping her hand in Ted’s. He shook his head.
“Look, the timing is way off, but I really need to do this now, before the day goes any further sideways,” Ted said, taking his hand back from Lizzie. Feeling rebuffed, she stood, and took a step back. Suddenly, everything seemed wrong, and she felt tears sting her eyes.
“I had wanted to wait for later, but maybe it’s for the best that I do this now,” Ted stood and took a step closer to Lizzie. “How do I do this?”
“You’re dumping me?” Lizzie’s face flushed red, and tears rolled down in earnest.
“What? No! I want you to- uh, will you marry me? Do I kneel? Do I just clasp your hands in mine? Do I ask you over champagne at the masquerade? This has been bugging me all week, and I’m blowing it, aren’t I?”
“You wait until we’re in the middle of 1917 to break up with me?” Lizzie tried not to yell. “Why would you do something like this? You want to ruin New York for me? My first fest? And you’re asking to - wait, did you say ‘marry’?”
“I’ll kneel,” Ted muttered to himself. He lowered himself, and offered a velvet box to Lizzie, whose mouth had fallen open. This was definitely unexpected. Suddenly, things fell into place.
“Assuming we never make it back, and even if we do, I really want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Ted said.
“That’s cheesy, but YES!” Lizzie’s tears fell quickly, but she was smiling now. No regrets, she thought. A small group of onlookers had paused to watch the proposal. They applauded as Ted slipped a ring on his betrothed’s finger.
Author notes: Lizzie's costume was inspired by Clarisse Coudert.
Irving Berlin was drafted for WWI in 1917, and it was big news. While serving, he wrote songs meant to inspire men to enlist. The song "For Your Country and My Country" would become a hit in July that year.
Bertram appears courtesy of roina_arwen, and appears in our intersection pieces from Week 18. You can read about him here, here, and here.
The fuchsia haired giver of directions is Syd, who also appeared in this story from Week 18.
The knish is a very yummy snack. Here's a recipe that you can try at home.
Thanks to zedmanauk for acting as a beta. Thank you for reading!