I'm a softy for the Softee

After moving back to Manhattan three years ago, I came to the conclusion that there was only so much snow I could handle. Before that I was living in San Juan, Puerto Rico, and needless to say I was quite spoiled when it came to weather conditions. Don’t get me wrong, I was born and raised in New York City and there is no other place in the world like it. The Lower East Side of Manhattan is my hometown and a place that I’ve lived on and off for over ten years. But what once used to be the highlight of winter vacation, is now something I lose interest in very quickly. Sure, the first snowfall of the season is beautiful and romantic, especially on a brisk Manhattan evening, but after a while it loses its luster. By February I am absolutely sick of it and I can get excited just at the thought of spring arriving. Even the process of registering for the spring semester gets me excited because I know soon enough it’s going to be April and soon after summer vacation is upon me. And for the last two years, something simply amazing has happened in the middle of February; a magical phenomenon that cannot be explained in words, only in the sounds of its sweet euphoric existence. On Wednesday, Feb. 11, at 6:07PM, as I was typing aimlessly away on my laptop, I heard the greatest sound I have ever associated with New York City spring time: The Mister Softee Ice Cream Truck. Yes, I did. I could not believe my ears. I had to stop what I was doing and sit back and hear the mystical and magnifying melody as the sound waves flowed through my ears like a lullaby of season’s change. If you spent your childhood in New York City and have no idea what I am talking about, then shame on you! I spent many adolescent spring and summer afternoons chasing after the Mister Softee truck with my wrinkled dollar bill (ice cream used to be cheap back in the 90’s, go figure) trying to buy that one piece of frozen bliss that I would devour as fast as the speed with which I ran after that damn truck. And while I rarely purchase ice cream from Mister Softee these days, I always get a giant smile on my face when I hear the music of the moving joy machine and I see children lined up to purchase that vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles. There is nothing that signals spring’s arrival more innocently and more vividly than the Mister Softee Ice Cream truck coming out of its six month slumber to make its way around my neighborhood. I don’t have to see, smell, or feel anything. All I have to do is hear it. A thirty second loop of a song older than my parents tells me all I need to know: Spring is coming and I can’t wait!