Ariel’s Midnight Carriage ride was a mystical tour. Just after 1 a.m., as we were weaving our way around the West Side of the Park, past the Dakota Apartments where John Lennon was shot and killed, and near the Strawberry Fields memorial for him in the park, I heard a violin on a path playing a soft and beautiful version of “Imagine,” one of Lennon’s loveliest songs. I saw a young man standing off of the path playing the violent, as if it were for Maria and I, as if he were waiting for us.
Ariel stopped the carriage but said nothing. Nathan came closer and began playing some Beethoven, he seemed one with his violin, an extension of it. Ariel smiled at him, nodding. “Do you know Ariel?,” I asked. “I met him earlier,” he said, introducing himself as Nathan, a music student at the New School.
He was from Philadelphia, he said, he had come to New York to live and make his way as a classical violinist, to write and teach and play. His music was beautiful, and then he climbed into the carriage and serenaded Maria and I for 20 minutes or so as we walked under the beautiful canoply of shade trees that line the park, the stage were the big apartments lining one side of the park, the big and beautiful skyscrapers on the other, framing this wonderful surprise.
Nathan, it seemed, was there for us, was waiting for us. I have no idea how Ariel managed it, someone told me he often works with musicians in the park, Ariel has his secrets, like any mystic, he would only smile and nod. Listening to this gifted young violinist play for us as Ariel’s horse trotted so calmly and easily through the park was like being transported to another time and place.
The air was suffused with magic and memory and lights, reflections and fragrances, shadows and emotions. I asked Nathan to play “Imagine” again, and then he did, and then some more Beethoven, and the sound of the violin, sweet and mournful and romantic was timeless.
After awhile, he hopped off, shook hands and said goodbye, vanishing into the park like an angel who could transform himself into something else.
What, I asked Ariel, possessed him to be so thoughtful and generous to strangers, to love his horses and the park so much that he would be out riding us around at 2 a.m. like that, serenaded in this beautiful and surprising way. Who does that, who in this world goes to so much trouble to please people and touch their hearts.
We thought it was a dream, a vision, being in this beautiful place with such a sweet spirit, such beautiful music.
“The horses,” he said, “if you listen for them, they will do the same for you.”