Ah, tourists. Why anyone would travel to a winter clad New York, when the same money can get take them to the warm shores of San Juan or Miami Beach, is a mystery to me. Next to me on the bench, waiting for the A train, are two foreign women scouring through subway maps of Manhattan and site seeing coupon books. I'm trying to discern what language they are speaking when Miriam C. walks over.
Ken H. passes us on the platform and waves just as the train arrives. Miriam and I ride together to 59th street. I stick around to wait for the B or the D, and she walks makes the exit. She turns around for a moment, to say goodbye, and WACK! She slams right into a solid blue pillar. I yell "that's going in the blog" with a distinctly evil grin.
Wednesday, December 30
Tuesday, December 29
Famous Sightings
Anyone who reads my blog regularly knows that I am regularly late, and today is no exception. I have two additional stops before work - the garbage (and recycling) and the laundry. Awkwardly, I try to carry everything down at once and call for the elevator. Realizing just as I press ‘B’ that I have left gloveless, I run out and watch as the elevator descends without me. Its Godly punishment, and a few more precious minutes pass while I retrieve my gloves and get the elevator back.
On 186th Street I see Mor R. She is moving this week, and walking over to the new pad to clean up and wait for a furniture delivery. A mother and child, no older than 2, are walking past the scaffolding on the side of 110 Bennett, where all the cinder blocks and a Porta-Potty are kept. The child points to the blocks and asks what they are. The woman responds that "they are doing construction." Am I an overzealous non-parent for thinking this is a wildly stupid response? It doesn't answer the boy's question at all. How many two year olds know the meaning of the word construction? And who, exactly, are "they?"
On the train, I sit next to a person I am convinced is Webster. I try not to stare but the urge does not relent, so when a tube of Chapstick pops out of his bag and lands near me I am quick to pick it up and hand it back. I am thanked by what is a very distinctly female voice, not very Webster after all.
A homeless man walks by and asks us for change, then sits on a nearby bench to wait for the next stop. Next to him, a lunatic woman with a dirty yellow hat starts to mutter, gradually working up to a shout. She-Webster looks at me, then points to the woman and makes a "crazy" gesture by twirling her finger near her head. We both smile.
As I stand up to get off at 59th, She-Webster drops a glove without noticing. I point it out and she thanks me again, and wishes me a good day.
Ken H. is on the platform at 59th, looking engrossed in music as he shuffles ever so slightly and taps his foot. I like Ken and always enjoy talking to him, but I don't know if I should walk over to him. After all, it's still early by many - if not my employer's - standards.
Getting off at 47th, I see Ken again and he says hi. He is on his way to work, which is in the Newscorp building. I tell him I used to work for Newscorp and after a bit more chat we part ways. He heads to the office, I head for a bagel.
On 186th Street I see Mor R. She is moving this week, and walking over to the new pad to clean up and wait for a furniture delivery. A mother and child, no older than 2, are walking past the scaffolding on the side of 110 Bennett, where all the cinder blocks and a Porta-Potty are kept. The child points to the blocks and asks what they are. The woman responds that "they are doing construction." Am I an overzealous non-parent for thinking this is a wildly stupid response? It doesn't answer the boy's question at all. How many two year olds know the meaning of the word construction? And who, exactly, are "they?"
On the train, I sit next to a person I am convinced is Webster. I try not to stare but the urge does not relent, so when a tube of Chapstick pops out of his bag and lands near me I am quick to pick it up and hand it back. I am thanked by what is a very distinctly female voice, not very Webster after all.
A homeless man walks by and asks us for change, then sits on a nearby bench to wait for the next stop. Next to him, a lunatic woman with a dirty yellow hat starts to mutter, gradually working up to a shout. She-Webster looks at me, then points to the woman and makes a "crazy" gesture by twirling her finger near her head. We both smile.
As I stand up to get off at 59th, She-Webster drops a glove without noticing. I point it out and she thanks me again, and wishes me a good day.
Ken H. is on the platform at 59th, looking engrossed in music as he shuffles ever so slightly and taps his foot. I like Ken and always enjoy talking to him, but I don't know if I should walk over to him. After all, it's still early by many - if not my employer's - standards.
Getting off at 47th, I see Ken again and he says hi. He is on his way to work, which is in the Newscorp building. I tell him I used to work for Newscorp and after a bit more chat we part ways. He heads to the office, I head for a bagel.
Monday, December 28
Subway Prayers
Walking outside this morning, late for work, I realize I have forgotten to wear my 180's (knock offs) or a hat. It's not that cold, but my ears are still wet from the shower and I wish I had something to cover them with. I pass Ilanit H. on the sidewalk in front of my building and head towards the train station. A small woman on the corner is walking a beast of a dog.
On the platform stairs, I hold onto a banister for a moment and feel something sticky beneath my palms. It's gum, chewed and disgusting. The wad is old enough not to stick to me, but without any Purell handy I have something else to add to my wish list.
Yair M. is also on the platform. On the train, I sit across from a girl with big brown hair. Her denim skirt was first to give her away as an Orthodox Jew, and now she is also reading from a Hebrew prayer book. I see so many Orthodox girls and women praying on the subway, I often wonder what they would do in the suburbs. Is davening one of the check boxes on traffic tickets, or would it just fall under reckless driving? The girl gets off at 125th street, just as “Come Sail Away” starts playing on my Blackberry.
On the platform stairs, I hold onto a banister for a moment and feel something sticky beneath my palms. It's gum, chewed and disgusting. The wad is old enough not to stick to me, but without any Purell handy I have something else to add to my wish list.
Yair M. is also on the platform. On the train, I sit across from a girl with big brown hair. Her denim skirt was first to give her away as an Orthodox Jew, and now she is also reading from a Hebrew prayer book. I see so many Orthodox girls and women praying on the subway, I often wonder what they would do in the suburbs. Is davening one of the check boxes on traffic tickets, or would it just fall under reckless driving? The girl gets off at 125th street, just as “Come Sail Away” starts playing on my Blackberry.
Thursday, December 24
T'Was The Night Before
It's officially very cold outside. I walk to the train station and see Mrs. H. near the entrance, grabbing a copy of AM New York. Ariel F. is also at the entrance, just inside, speaking on her cell phone.
Past the tunnel Estie T. is buying a metrocard. As I walk through the turnstile, Rebecca G. walks out and says hello. She works at the nearby Yeshiva University.
On the platform, right at the bottom of the stairs, I see Sara S. She smiles. It's her birthday today, and Sara looks like she is dressed to celebrate. A black shirt, gray skirt, and sexy red scarf are immediately noticeable. Her boots are black, with a furry trim at the top.
Someone is playing classical music further up on the platform, but Sara has been listening to "All Star" on her iPod. We ride the train together, discussing everything from the trips to weddings to the meaning of life.
We switch to the D train at 59th and then get off at Rockefeller. I walk to Milk and Honey to get a bagel, and on the corner of 5th I run into one of my neighbors. I don't say hello, since I don't really know her, then make my way to Starbucks and finally to the office, the last day before the long weekend.
Past the tunnel Estie T. is buying a metrocard. As I walk through the turnstile, Rebecca G. walks out and says hello. She works at the nearby Yeshiva University.
On the platform, right at the bottom of the stairs, I see Sara S. She smiles. It's her birthday today, and Sara looks like she is dressed to celebrate. A black shirt, gray skirt, and sexy red scarf are immediately noticeable. Her boots are black, with a furry trim at the top.
Someone is playing classical music further up on the platform, but Sara has been listening to "All Star" on her iPod. We ride the train together, discussing everything from the trips to weddings to the meaning of life.
We switch to the D train at 59th and then get off at Rockefeller. I walk to Milk and Honey to get a bagel, and on the corner of 5th I run into one of my neighbors. I don't say hello, since I don't really know her, then make my way to Starbucks and finally to the office, the last day before the long weekend.
Wednesday, December 23
Holiday Late
I head down to the basement this morning, looking for Willie, the superintendent. His dogs start to bark wildly when I enter the area in front of his apartment and he opens the door before I get a chance to knock. Having expected Con Edison, he is surprised to see me, and is thankful and full of well-wishes when I hand him a card and holiday tip.
Exiting the building, I mail some letters and head for the train. At 186th street, I can hear the shouts and shrills of schoolchildren in the recess yard, having already started the day at the nearby school.
The subway platform is eerily empty, save for a high school class that is lined up against the wall. I realize how incredibly late I am but am at least confident about being able to get a seat, which I do. The conductor on the train has a Chinese accent. He also, quite annoyingly, overly elongates his ‘S’ sounds, saying "ssssssstand clear of the closing doors" at every stop.
Exiting the building, I mail some letters and head for the train. At 186th street, I can hear the shouts and shrills of schoolchildren in the recess yard, having already started the day at the nearby school.
The subway platform is eerily empty, save for a high school class that is lined up against the wall. I realize how incredibly late I am but am at least confident about being able to get a seat, which I do. The conductor on the train has a Chinese accent. He also, quite annoyingly, overly elongates his ‘S’ sounds, saying "ssssssstand clear of the closing doors" at every stop.
Tuesday, December 22
Leaving On Time
My cleaning lady is like Alice from the Brady Bunch. She is a part of the family, and after catching up with her for twenty minutes, I set off for work.
At the station, Newspaper Guy waves to me, then glances at a large group of Orthodox Jewish teens gathered at the metrocard vending machines.
Zippy K. is on the platform. I doubt she remembers me, but last year she came to my place with her cousin and we watched a movie.
The train arrives and I stand at the doors, peering through the glass, scope out the available seats, and decide on the best choice before the doors have opened. Everyone slowly files in, I get my seat, and try to mentally prepare for the day. It dawns on me I might actually arrive on time to work.
At the station, Newspaper Guy waves to me, then glances at a large group of Orthodox Jewish teens gathered at the metrocard vending machines.
Zippy K. is on the platform. I doubt she remembers me, but last year she came to my place with her cousin and we watched a movie.
The train arrives and I stand at the doors, peering through the glass, scope out the available seats, and decide on the best choice before the doors have opened. Everyone slowly files in, I get my seat, and try to mentally prepare for the day. It dawns on me I might actually arrive on time to work.
Monday, December 21
Winter Is Upon Us
It's fitting, for the first day of Winter, that snow is on the ground. Two feet of sparkly white flowers that came down over the weekend have turned a muddy slush lining the sidewalk and have congregated on the street corners, beyond the boundaries of where building supers are required to shovel.
The slush is impossible to avoid, even with the most careful selection of a route. By the time I reach Overlook, on the way to the train, my feet are already moist. Turning left and looking behind me, towards 187th, I see Tzippy H. in large boots that cover most of the bottom half of her jeans. She is wearing a dark coat and a warm green hat.
On the platform I recognize a girl from synagogue and her mouth suddenly opens agape with surprise. She greets another girl, whom I also recognize, with a big hug. I spot Aliza B. sitting on a bench and say hi. Yonatan K. is also on the platform, as is Adina S.
Adina and I board and ride together. She spends half the ride on her morning prayers and then I give her a full account of the Mt. Sinai panoply fundraiser. We chat some more and I get off at 59th, late to work but ready to start the week.
The slush is impossible to avoid, even with the most careful selection of a route. By the time I reach Overlook, on the way to the train, my feet are already moist. Turning left and looking behind me, towards 187th, I see Tzippy H. in large boots that cover most of the bottom half of her jeans. She is wearing a dark coat and a warm green hat.
On the platform I recognize a girl from synagogue and her mouth suddenly opens agape with surprise. She greets another girl, whom I also recognize, with a big hug. I spot Aliza B. sitting on a bench and say hi. Yonatan K. is also on the platform, as is Adina S.
Adina and I board and ride together. She spends half the ride on her morning prayers and then I give her a full account of the Mt. Sinai panoply fundraiser. We chat some more and I get off at 59th, late to work but ready to start the week.
Thursday, December 17
The Cold Draws Near
The elevator is taking too long so I head down the stairs instead. A blast of cold air punches into me as soon as I step outside. I wonder if I should have worn a hat. They've started removing the scaffolding at 115 Bennett, so that the roof and mesh panels are gone but the frame is still intact. It looks funny.
My ears are partially frozen by the time I reach the station. Up ahead, I see my next door neighbor Avraham S. Down on the platform, I see a girl I know who's name I can't for the life of me remember. She waves and I wave back. Benny S. is also on the platform and I wave to him too.
On the train I sit next to a young girl wearing psychedelic jeans and a tie-dye sweatshirt. Her nails are painted, albeit chipped, in a bright sky blue, and she is wearing a square pink hat with a furry brim and ears. She is listened to music on a Blackberry with is covered in a pink phone condom lined with gemstones. I slip on my own headphones and fade slowly back to a drifty sleep.
My ears are partially frozen by the time I reach the station. Up ahead, I see my next door neighbor Avraham S. Down on the platform, I see a girl I know who's name I can't for the life of me remember. She waves and I wave back. Benny S. is also on the platform and I wave to him too.
On the train I sit next to a young girl wearing psychedelic jeans and a tie-dye sweatshirt. Her nails are painted, albeit chipped, in a bright sky blue, and she is wearing a square pink hat with a furry brim and ears. She is listened to music on a Blackberry with is covered in a pink phone condom lined with gemstones. I slip on my own headphones and fade slowly back to a drifty sleep.
Wednesday, December 16
Ouch
There is a small but significant part of my toenail missing. Not nearly as bad as the story - told on the Big Show this morning - about a 6’7” minister who’s legs were cut off so that he might fit into a coffin, but still unpleasant nonetheless.
Heading downstairs and out to the train station, I run into Baruch H. in the lobby. A volunteer EMT, he says good morning and asks how I am (I refrain from mentioning the toenail). Judy R. is pushing a stroller just outside the building.
At the station, I head down to the platform and see Ezra H. at the foot of the steps. He is carrying a backpack and a Banana Republic bag, and is reading on his phone. He seems engrossed, so I don’t say hello and head towards my spot. I take the A to 59th, then switch to the orange line and exit at Rockefeller. On the stairs I hear someone say my name and turn around. It’s Adina L. We chat for a short moment and then I head out onto 47th and make my way towards the bagel shop.
Heading downstairs and out to the train station, I run into Baruch H. in the lobby. A volunteer EMT, he says good morning and asks how I am (I refrain from mentioning the toenail). Judy R. is pushing a stroller just outside the building.
At the station, I head down to the platform and see Ezra H. at the foot of the steps. He is carrying a backpack and a Banana Republic bag, and is reading on his phone. He seems engrossed, so I don’t say hello and head towards my spot. I take the A to 59th, then switch to the orange line and exit at Rockefeller. On the stairs I hear someone say my name and turn around. It’s Adina L. We chat for a short moment and then I head out onto 47th and make my way towards the bagel shop.
Tuesday, December 15
Never On Time
I am not surprised to find that today is one of those days, again. Why can't I get it together and get to work on time? Not that I don't put my hours in, but when my coworkers leave at 5 and I've got another two hours to go, it always leaves me feeling a little lumpy inside.
On the subway platform I run into Malka S. I stop to say hello and we exchange pleasantries, then I head to my spot. The train arrives and I board next to an extraordinarily tall woman. Not just tall by Jewish standards (Jewish woman are not known for their height) but by almost all accounts. She reminds me of the Netherlands, where the average female height is 3" taller than in the U.S.
A loud, high pitched laughter coming from the other side of the car fills the air. I look over and see it is coming from a large group of female youngsters. As I shift about, the man next to me begins to mutter in Italian, and continues muttering every time I move or even breath too deeply. He is tall and balding, and dressed preppy in brown woolen slacks and a brown corduroy coat, slung over a blue button down oxford. Penny loafers finish the look, but I am hardly impressed.
On the subway platform I run into Malka S. I stop to say hello and we exchange pleasantries, then I head to my spot. The train arrives and I board next to an extraordinarily tall woman. Not just tall by Jewish standards (Jewish woman are not known for their height) but by almost all accounts. She reminds me of the Netherlands, where the average female height is 3" taller than in the U.S.
A loud, high pitched laughter coming from the other side of the car fills the air. I look over and see it is coming from a large group of female youngsters. As I shift about, the man next to me begins to mutter in Italian, and continues muttering every time I move or even breath too deeply. He is tall and balding, and dressed preppy in brown woolen slacks and a brown corduroy coat, slung over a blue button down oxford. Penny loafers finish the look, but I am hardly impressed.
Monday, December 14
I Hate Monday
There are few things more hated than Monday mornings. As I head out to the laundromat, I notice that there has been yet another increase in the amount of dog poo left on the sidewalks.
I pass Mt. Sinai and see people chatting outside, among them Marc R. Services must have just ended. On the way back, after dropping off the laundry, I see Adina L. and her husband Yaki R. on the corner, near Key Food. Heading towards the train station and passing my own building, I run into some of my neighbors who are schmoozing among themselves. I see Ezra F. across the street.
On Overlook, I see David H. go into the station ahead of me. A few seconds later I walk in to find the station smelling a strange mix of urine and lemon scented cleaning solution.
I am late to work and wondering if, as is usual at this hour, I'll run into Adina S. I turn around and, eerily, she is right behind me. "You're late" she admonishes. Yehuda B. passes us on the platform and waves hello. Adina and I take the train together, talking about the recent array of Chanukah parties in the neighborhood, and I tell her all about a very drunken Rock Band after-party at my place on Saturday night. She does not sound sorry to have missed it.
I pass Mt. Sinai and see people chatting outside, among them Marc R. Services must have just ended. On the way back, after dropping off the laundry, I see Adina L. and her husband Yaki R. on the corner, near Key Food. Heading towards the train station and passing my own building, I run into some of my neighbors who are schmoozing among themselves. I see Ezra F. across the street.
On Overlook, I see David H. go into the station ahead of me. A few seconds later I walk in to find the station smelling a strange mix of urine and lemon scented cleaning solution.
I am late to work and wondering if, as is usual at this hour, I'll run into Adina S. I turn around and, eerily, she is right behind me. "You're late" she admonishes. Yehuda B. passes us on the platform and waves hello. Adina and I take the train together, talking about the recent array of Chanukah parties in the neighborhood, and I tell her all about a very drunken Rock Band after-party at my place on Saturday night. She does not sound sorry to have missed it.
Friday, December 11
All Bets Are Off
The Black Eyed Peas "I Got a Feeling" is stuck in my head this morning, after hearing it twice last night - once at the company holiday party and a second time at the after party. Surprisingly, I didn't drink too much but, not surprisingly, I am late to work nonetheless. I will lose my bet with Colleen, the receptionist, that I can get to work on time despite a very late night out.
At the entrance to the train station, a women with a baby carriage is passing just ahead of me and I rush to hold the doors open for her, and she thanks me profusely for it. It's nice to be appreciated, even for something so insignificant and which any decent citizen would easily have done just as well.
I walk past Jill V. on the platform and board the train when it arrives, taking a seat next to a woman in a full length fur coat and matching fur hat. As if that isn't appalling enough, she is reading a Daily News article on Tiger Woods' sexual preferences. It's one article I prefer not to read over anyone's shoulder.
At the entrance to the train station, a women with a baby carriage is passing just ahead of me and I rush to hold the doors open for her, and she thanks me profusely for it. It's nice to be appreciated, even for something so insignificant and which any decent citizen would easily have done just as well.
I walk past Jill V. on the platform and board the train when it arrives, taking a seat next to a woman in a full length fur coat and matching fur hat. As if that isn't appalling enough, she is reading a Daily News article on Tiger Woods' sexual preferences. It's one article I prefer not to read over anyone's shoulder.
Thursday, December 10
All Dressed Up
Tonight is the company holiday party and I'm wearing a suit. I've also put on my fancy winter coat, the only one I own which extends below the jacket of a suit. It's also my warmest coat, and at today's temperatures I would have worn it regardless. I head down to the basement to throw out the garbage and run into Willie, the building superintendant, in the elevator. We wish each other a good day and I head out the back door, running into Willie again as I walk around the block to the front of the building.
At the train station I see Nomi M. standing near the entrance, talking on her cell. I smile and wave to her, and she waves back with the pinky of the hand holding the phone.
The train arrives right away and I board. Just as the doors are closing, I am jabbed by a horrible stench. The source is immediately obvious - a homeless man sleeping nearby. I head to the opposite end of the car, where the smell is somewhat tolerable, and hear a mother tell her child "don't worry, we'll move to another car at the next stop."
Sitting across from me is a woman in a plaid blue coat, brown corduroy pants, silver shoes, and giant sunglasses. A white knitted beret covers her hair, which is large, full of dreads, and painted blue to match to the coat. She is covering her mouth and nose with a handful of dreadlocks to avoid the stench wafting from the other side of car.
Dido's "Mary's in India" starts to play over my headphones, and it reminds me of someone I cared for long ago.
At 59th, I see Benny S. on the platform, as well as Suri G. She usually takes the 1 train but today it was having issues and she is on the 8th avenue line instead. I had just seen Suri the other night at a Cuban-Jewish event hosted by the JDC, which we both attended. The B train arrives and I get on, leaving Suri behind to wait for the A.
Wednesday, December 9
Kix and Drinks
The only thing I hate carrying more than a bag is an umbrella. Sure, it keeps its bearer dry, but it’s so awkward to carry around in crowded subway car. Even someone lucky enough to get a seat has nowhere comfortable to store it during the ride. On the few occasions, like today, where the rain is so fierce that I must take one, I usually end of leaving them at work for want of not carrying them back.
In fact, I have only one umbrella left at home – a medium size semi automatic with a hooked handle. Right outside my building, fidgeting to get it open, I see Judy R. walk by, pushing one child in a stroller and her eldest lagging a few feet behind. He is proudly holding up a colorful brolly of his very own.
The rain is really pouring down, making me grateful for the three scaffolds along the way: 115 Bennett, 110 Bennett, and finally the one right outside the train station. I stop underneath the last one to undo my umbrella and Emily T. is there, talking on her cell phone. “I love you,” she says, and heads inside.
On the platform I see Emily again, as well as David M. who passes me and wishes me a good morning. Next to me on the bench is an Orthodox Jewish woman with a light blue bandana covering her hair. She is eating what looks like Kix and milk, out of a plastic cup. The train doesn’t come for a long time, and the platform starts to crowd. An announcement about the next train being out of service turns out to be incorrect, however, and I board alongside a cute girl who’s name I don’t know but that’s been written about in my blog before.
At 175th, an elderly woman with dyed hair and thick glasses get on the train. She stands next to me and, being the quintessential “grumpy old woman”, starts muttering and cursing when the train doesn’t immediately move. The conductor announces for someone at the font to stop holding the doors open, and the woman increases her rants. Although comic and somewhat enjoyable, I put my headphones on to ignore. That is when she smiles at me, the sweetest old-woman smile possible. In an instant she has become the angelic grandmother, and I am sad to see her get off just one stop later.
A scruffy middle aged man takes her spot next to me. He is well dressed, business casual, but his eyes are terribly bloodshot and his breath wreaks so powerfully of alcohol that one might imagine he’s come straight from the bar without ever stopping at home last night. He is reading Metro NY while strangely licking his lips, and once or twice he coughs violently enough that I think he might throw up on me. I turn up the volume on my music and push my body into the wall behind me – as far away from the drunkard as it can go.
In fact, I have only one umbrella left at home – a medium size semi automatic with a hooked handle. Right outside my building, fidgeting to get it open, I see Judy R. walk by, pushing one child in a stroller and her eldest lagging a few feet behind. He is proudly holding up a colorful brolly of his very own.
The rain is really pouring down, making me grateful for the three scaffolds along the way: 115 Bennett, 110 Bennett, and finally the one right outside the train station. I stop underneath the last one to undo my umbrella and Emily T. is there, talking on her cell phone. “I love you,” she says, and heads inside.
On the platform I see Emily again, as well as David M. who passes me and wishes me a good morning. Next to me on the bench is an Orthodox Jewish woman with a light blue bandana covering her hair. She is eating what looks like Kix and milk, out of a plastic cup. The train doesn’t come for a long time, and the platform starts to crowd. An announcement about the next train being out of service turns out to be incorrect, however, and I board alongside a cute girl who’s name I don’t know but that’s been written about in my blog before.
At 175th, an elderly woman with dyed hair and thick glasses get on the train. She stands next to me and, being the quintessential “grumpy old woman”, starts muttering and cursing when the train doesn’t immediately move. The conductor announces for someone at the font to stop holding the doors open, and the woman increases her rants. Although comic and somewhat enjoyable, I put my headphones on to ignore. That is when she smiles at me, the sweetest old-woman smile possible. In an instant she has become the angelic grandmother, and I am sad to see her get off just one stop later.
A scruffy middle aged man takes her spot next to me. He is well dressed, business casual, but his eyes are terribly bloodshot and his breath wreaks so powerfully of alcohol that one might imagine he’s come straight from the bar without ever stopping at home last night. He is reading Metro NY while strangely licking his lips, and once or twice he coughs violently enough that I think he might throw up on me. I turn up the volume on my music and push my body into the wall behind me – as far away from the drunkard as it can go.
Tuesday, December 8
Shake It Up
I head downstairs and, at the corner of 186th and Bennett, I see Julie W. She is standing near the girls school and I try to get her attention but she doesn't see me. I continue towards the station and when I turn onto Overlook, I see Jon E. walking in the same direction.
At the station, I head through the turnstiles and down to the platform, then sit on a bench to wait for the train. A woman with short blond hair and blue eyes is sitting next to me. I can hear the music blasting through her iPod headphones as she sways her torso to the rhythm, occasionally shutting her eyes. She is wearing gray pants, brown loafers, and a long black overcoat, with sleeves that give way to sharp leather gloves.
Also nearby and also listening to music is another, younger, woman, short and with a head that is slightly large for her body. She is wearing giant headphones that can distract almost anyone from noticing how cute her black shoes are. They are the perfect match to her black scarf and black tights.
I notice a rat scurry on the track just before the train arrives.
At the station, I head through the turnstiles and down to the platform, then sit on a bench to wait for the train. A woman with short blond hair and blue eyes is sitting next to me. I can hear the music blasting through her iPod headphones as she sways her torso to the rhythm, occasionally shutting her eyes. She is wearing gray pants, brown loafers, and a long black overcoat, with sleeves that give way to sharp leather gloves.
Also nearby and also listening to music is another, younger, woman, short and with a head that is slightly large for her body. She is wearing giant headphones that can distract almost anyone from noticing how cute her black shoes are. They are the perfect match to her black scarf and black tights.
I notice a rat scurry on the track just before the train arrives.
Monday, December 7
New Suit
I hate carrying bags and normally try to avoid it at all costs. My new suit, however, has just been tested for shatnez, and in the process some sections of the seam were torn and now need to be repaired. Since I don’t trust any of the local talent, I’m carrying my bag - suit inside - to a midtown tailor.
Downstairs in the lobby, I run into Ilan R. with his child, and on 186th I see another parent. This time it’s Esther D. and her baby, being pushed inside a stroller. I turn onto Overlook and there is Sara S. walking towards the subway.
Sara and I walk to the station and onto the platform together. Waiting for the train, Ezra B. walks by and says hello. I also see Aviva P. and Emily L. but don’t point them out as Sara is clear her desire to avoid unnecssary morning coversations. On the train, we talk about Mt. Sinai politics, weekend plans, and various other random topics. After switching to the orange line, we end up at Rockefeller and I head towards the cleaners in the underground concourse.
Downstairs in the lobby, I run into Ilan R. with his child, and on 186th I see another parent. This time it’s Esther D. and her baby, being pushed inside a stroller. I turn onto Overlook and there is Sara S. walking towards the subway.
Sara and I walk to the station and onto the platform together. Waiting for the train, Ezra B. walks by and says hello. I also see Aviva P. and Emily L. but don’t point them out as Sara is clear her desire to avoid unnecssary morning coversations. On the train, we talk about Mt. Sinai politics, weekend plans, and various other random topics. After switching to the orange line, we end up at Rockefeller and I head towards the cleaners in the underground concourse.
Wednesday, December 2
The Lone Star State
Some people have no sense of where they are, and in particular when it comes to riders of New York City’s subway system. More specifically, I am often cutoff at the turnstiles and that is exactly what happens today as I swipe my metorcard and walk through. The man one turnstile to my right – middle aged, tall, and with a tennis racket emerging from his backpack – walks through on his side and then immediately moves in front of me, for no obvious reason and oblivious to the fact that I am there. I narrowly avoid colliding the handle of his racket.
On the platform I see Adina S. sitting on a bench and walk towards her. Emily T. is also near nearby. By the time I reach Adina, a train has pulled into the station and we board together. There are numerous available seats, but most are singles, and only one pair of adjacent seats is open. Emily unknowingly sits on one of them, leaving Adina and I to sit separately, and so instead we choose to stand. At the next stop, someone gets off the train, creating a new pair of adjacent seats, which we take.
Adina has been to Austin for the Thanksgiving weekend and we talk about her trip and compare notes about kosher food throughout Texas in general. I have been there many times for work and tell her the story about one particular trip with a Russian colleague who had flown in to join me on several meetings. Although I insisted it was unnecessary, he was kindly adamant on accompanying me along a forty minute drive to the nearest kosher restaurant. The second night was a repeat, I asserting once again that he need not join me, and he resolute that no one should eat alone. At dinnertime on the third and final night, he turns to me and says, in a thick Russian accent, “twice we go Kosher, tonight we go Hooters.”
On the platform I see Adina S. sitting on a bench and walk towards her. Emily T. is also near nearby. By the time I reach Adina, a train has pulled into the station and we board together. There are numerous available seats, but most are singles, and only one pair of adjacent seats is open. Emily unknowingly sits on one of them, leaving Adina and I to sit separately, and so instead we choose to stand. At the next stop, someone gets off the train, creating a new pair of adjacent seats, which we take.
Adina has been to Austin for the Thanksgiving weekend and we talk about her trip and compare notes about kosher food throughout Texas in general. I have been there many times for work and tell her the story about one particular trip with a Russian colleague who had flown in to join me on several meetings. Although I insisted it was unnecessary, he was kindly adamant on accompanying me along a forty minute drive to the nearest kosher restaurant. The second night was a repeat, I asserting once again that he need not join me, and he resolute that no one should eat alone. At dinnertime on the third and final night, he turns to me and says, in a thick Russian accent, “twice we go Kosher, tonight we go Hooters.”
Tuesday, December 1
November Rain
December took me by surprise today. Isn't November a month that should have 31 days, despite the song we learn as children? At least the air, when I get downstairs, feels more like winter.
I walk to the A station and through the turnstiles. Jenny R. is in front of me, walking down the stairs, but she doesn't see me. On the platform, I see the curly hair girl I met two weekends ago, her name now completely escapes me. She waves. Also on the platform is Caryn L. She is sitting on a bench, reading. She doesn't see me and I continue walking to my spot, board the train, and get to work on time for a change.
I walk to the A station and through the turnstiles. Jenny R. is in front of me, walking down the stairs, but she doesn't see me. On the platform, I see the curly hair girl I met two weekends ago, her name now completely escapes me. She waves. Also on the platform is Caryn L. She is sitting on a bench, reading. She doesn't see me and I continue walking to my spot, board the train, and get to work on time for a change.
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