TGIF

Fridays, for the working class, are simply paradoxical. Just hours away from the weekend, and yet the previous days rest so heavily that proper function becomes a rare commodity. Coupled with lack of sleep and grim weather, there is little need to speak to anyone before 10 AM, yet just steps outside my apartment I'm already greeted by my first hello. It's Ezra F. and he's most likely heading back from the morning services. He's a nice chap but I'm glad he keeps his pace and doesn't stick around for the long haul.

Across the way Aliza B. is leaving her building. I see her often and a week or two of consecutive Aliza-spotting is not unheard of. She once baked delicious brownies with a coffee topping which I remember to this day.

Turn to Overlook Terrace and there is Adi G. giving Yosefa S. another lesson in bicycling. I am impressed with Yosefa's persistence and Adi's patience, though from the looks of it I still think Adi would be safer if she too were wearing a helmet. I chat with them a bit, and Yosefa reminds me she is learning to bike so she can get around Amsterdam when she goes next month with some friends. I am annoyed because I was supposed to go on that trip but the dates changed on me.

Getting into the station there is a tall thin woman with painted eyebrows, wearing a green tanktop and loose jeans. She is talking to the newspaper salesman and I overhear her saying she is from San Fransico, which for some reason elicits from him the response of "badda bing badda boom" accompanied by a grunt. What have I been missing in San Fransisco? Is there something I should know about? Why haven't I been to San Fransisco?

On the platform Aliza is talking to a couple. I recognize them from synagogue, and I've met the guy a few times but his name escapes me today. In the distance I recognize someone else who I've met before. She is a friend of my friend Anna and I am always stricken by how much taller she is than most of the other Jewish women I know. I can't remember her name either and I wonder if its part of Friday syndrome.

I'm still waiting for the train when the Frisco chick passes me by. I see now that her eyes are glassy and she is twitching oddly as she hums a tune. Her badda bing has already fallen under a greater influence but I am not stirred. Judge no one on Friday mornings.