Is it Done?

Having taken care of a few random items, I am super late by the time I leave for work. On Overlook, I hear loud footsteps. Turning around, I’m surprised to see it’s Sara S. and even more surprised that I can hear her from a full block away. I wait for her to catch up and she tells me that she was up late watching skating championships.

Sara and I walk into the station together, passing Marc R. at the foot of stairs which lead down to the platform. Yaffa J. comes over and we all talk about lateness. When the train arrives, Yaffa walks towards her spot, while Sara and I ride together. We talk about various work projects, and I tell her how it has become common at my office to ask whether a project is done or “done d'done d'done done," meaning all the loose ends have been tied. It takes some effort, but I try not to think of all my loose ends, just days before heading out on vacation.

Back On

I can tell from the lights on the elevator panel that it’s headed in the opposite direction, so in an unusual maneuver I take the stairs to the lobby. I just don't have the time to wait.

Outside it's chillier than I thought it would be and not nearly as bright as I expected. I flip my sunglasses to the top of my head; it's the first time since the onset of spring that I wear them.

Michael Z. is walking, holding one of his children's hands, outside the A station. I first met him sixteen years ago but haven't spoken to him since, despite living in the same neighborhood for much of that time.

On the platform, a girl with a flowery white skirt is walking in front of me. She is wearing unseasonably dark fishnet stockings that simply do not belong with her solid flats.

I see Benny S. further up on the platform, the second day in a row. "We're back on," I say, referring to a recent conversation we had about how we always used to see each other on the train but then hadn't for a long time. "Yup," he responds, "we're back!"

Coincidence?

Downstairs on Bennett Ave, I see a bumper sticker on a 4x4 that reads "Silly boys, trucks are for girls." Walking to the train station, I pass Gilit H. on Overlook, as she tries to teach her daughter how to pronounce her own name.

I have a cup of hot peppermint tea in my hands, which I made before leaving for work, to try and soothe my stomach. The AM New York Guy says good morning as I walk into the station.

Benny S. is on the platform and waves. Just the other day, we had been talking about how we rarely see each other on the subway anymore. We get into different cars when the train arrives. My car is filled with the putrid smell of homeless man and at the next stop I switch, to the car where Benny is. He double takes, and I respond by waving my hand in front of my nose in a smelly gesture, and point to the other car. We laugh.

Flossaholic

Is it OK to floss in public? Because I roasted potatoes this morning, tasted one just before I left, and now there is rosemary wedged between two teeth.
I see Tzivia H. on 186th, and on Overlook a tall Israeli man asks, in Hebrew and into his cellphone, "are you dieting?" I can hear the leash on his poodle dangling as he pauses to let the dog poop and I pass him.

In the station, I can hear the train approach but I am too tired to run for it, and I am the first one onto the platform after the train pulls out. Walking really slowly towards my spot, I am passed by Estie H. and Yehuda B. Neither of them notice me.

I get a seat on the train even though it's crowded, and watch "Up In the Air," on my Blackberry, for most of the ride. At 59th, I bump into Daniel S. We both wave hello and I go back to my movie, starving for some coffee.

Phony Love

The lobby smells like toast, which doesn't make life better for those who have left home without breakfast. I hold the front door open for a neighbor who takes too long to reach it, then step out into gorgeous fresh air. Judy R. is walking her child down Bennett Avenue, which is drenched in a sunlight that hasn't been seen since September.

There is a cute girl outside the station, talking on her cellphone. I've seen her on the train many times before, often with her boyfriend and often arguing with him. "I don't need to make a lot of money," she says, "but it should be about work and effort."

Yonatan K. is sitting on the benches just behind the turnstiles. He doesn't notice me as I walk by and stroll down the stairs to the subway platform.

On the train, I sit next to a couple. The man, in gray suit and lavender tie, is glued to his iPhone. He has an oblong head and a short reddish beard, and his wife, who appears the older of the two, reminds me a of my first college girlfriend. I double-take to make sure it isn't actually her, and the man takes notice. She doesn't; she closes her eyes just as his return to his precious phone.

Red Mutter

Third floor resident Avi N. walks into elevator, just as I step out. Outside the building, another neighbor waves hello from across the street, while walking her baby up and down the block. She is an attractive young woman who’s name I still don’t know despite her moving in over two years ago.

At the station, the train arrives just as I walk down the stairs onto the platform. Despite the crowd, it’s easy to notice a young redheaded boy muttering all too loudly to himself. He is complaining about the sticky floor. A few middle seats are left but I choose to stand instead, leaning against the door and settling in for the ride.

No Vitamins Today

I let the cleaning lady into the apartment this morning and, after a short chat, I leave for work. Downstairs, I run into Willie, the super, and then into David M. across Bennett Ave.

Sara K. leaves her building on 186th, and on Overlook I see Rabbi H. looking into the engine of his station wagon. Once inside the train station, Newspaper Guy says hello as I walk past him. Doron S. is also there, running after his son, and doesn't notice me or the fact that he’s wearing same coat as me.

A short woman with curly hair and a leather jacket smiles at me at bottom of stairs. Margie C. is also on the platform, and we ride the train together, discussing random topics. Of particular interest is the source of the strange smell in the car.

At 59th, I see Doron again, sans child, but still don’t get a chance to say hello. I transfer to the B, and get off near the bagel store, where I run into Will Y. To my deep dismay, they are out of vitamin water.

Delayed

Through no fault of my own, I am utterly late to work. Having been delayed upon entry to JFK last night, I arrived home at 4:00 A.M this morning, about seven hours later than I'd intended to.

At 10:20, when I leave my apartment, there is no time to make coffee and no energy to wait till Midtown. I skirt around the corner to Dunkin' Donuts even though I despise their coffee.

The train is full, but at this hour it’s a completely different set of riders. These are the start-up yuppies, the artists, and the students. One girl, wearing dark jeans and a gray down coat, is all too friendly. She asks an elderly Asian woman if it would be ok to sit next to her before taking the seat, and then compliments the scarf of another girl nearby. The scarf, when I look, turns out to really be quite pretty, made of a golden colored twill with black swirls and studded beads. Maybe there’s something to learn from the this crowd after all.

Memory Lane

With a significant amount of garbage to get rid of, I head down to the basement and see Antonio when I get there. I make the drop and as I get back into the elevator in run into Judy R.  She tries, almost unsuccessfully, to squeeze a double wide stroller out through its doors.

On 186th street, I see the wife of a local Rabbi who has randomly friended me on Facebook. We don’t say hello as I pass her.

I drop my tax return in the mail at the corner and make it the rest of the way to the platform and on to the next train. It’s pretty late and the subway is hardly crowded. A blonde woman next to me is working on a crossword puzzle clipped from the paper, leaning on a textbook about corporate finance. On the opposite side a father is reading his daughter a book "face to face with cheetahs" and they discuss the amazing eyes of the cheetah. This thought - a discussion of feline eyes - brings back memories of someone I used to know a long time ago.

Rushing and Running

I’m late for work so I rush downstairs. I can hear many children playing at the playground on 186th and Bennett. On Bennett, Rebbitzen H. is running up the street. She lives in my building and in all my years here I’ve never seen her run.

I walk to the train station, head through the turnstiles and see Aviva P. at the bottom of the stairs leading to the platform. At my usual spot I realize I still need to get breakfast so I walk to my "other" spot, the one that lets out closer to the bagel store. Tired and sleepy, I drift off as soon as I get on the train.

Selling Point

One of my neighbors, riding down with me in elevator, asks if I know any Java programmers but it’s unclear if he is asking about an open position that is available or someone who can fill an open position. Either way I don’t.

I get out on the basement level and Willie, the building super, gets in. I quickly mention that the faucet in my tub is still leaking a bit. In the courtyard I bump in Antonio, and then walk to the laundromat. On my way in, I notice Rabbi S. at the nearby bus stop. On my way out, after dropping off the laundry, I see that he is gone. Another bus is arriving though, and I take it to 184th street.

Josh S. leaves his building on 184th and I follow behind as he walks towards the subway. The A.M. New York Lady is no longer at the station, replaced by a more mild-mannered distributor (can you call them salespeople if the paper is free?).

I am still behind Josh when I reach the stairs. He tosses something into the garbage, and then I lose him on the platform. David M. is also here on the platform.

Nearby I spot a young woman in a gray wool coat, a black skirt, and attractive boots. Her hair is auburn and contrasts with fantastically bright green eyes. She is an Orthodox Jew, saying her morning prayers and swaying gently back and forth as she recites the words.

An announcement is made about the next train just as a drop of water from the leaky ceiling lands on my pinky. I get on the train when it arrives and at 175th a former coworker of mine, from years ago, boards the same car as me. I pretend not to recognize him, as he is probably doing the same and too far away to speak to in any case. At 59th I switch to the B train, and see Scott S.

Tirade

One of the neighbors on my floor, an elderly man, gets into the elevator with me. We talk mostly about the weather and when I get outside it is super sunny and warm. Up ahead I spot Shlomo D. and as I turn the corner onto 186th I run into Shuli S. She says hello. I reach Overlook and run into Avi H. as well, and we both wave as we pass each other.

I see Shlomo again, entering 37 Overlook just as I am about to catch up to him. On the platform, I see a redheaded girl whom I recognize but can't quite place. She eyes me surreptitiously as I get ready to board, on my way to a meeting at Microsoft’s New York headquarters.

Last Day of the Week

I head downstairs and on Bennett Avenue I see Shifra A. getting out of her black SUV. She is wearing a gray overcoat and stomping across the street in high decibel heels. She asks “what's up?” as I wave. Up ahead at the corner I see Sarah F.

At the station, I can hear the train approaching but continue my calm pace as others run towards it. I don’t reach it in time, but none of them do either. At the bottom of steps I see Doron S. with his little boy.

Isaac D. is also on the platform, fishing through his knapsack. He doesn't see me as I walk by towards my spot. When I get there, I find Yael B. right next to me and she says hello.

There is a soft saxophone playing at the far end of the platform. It is pleasant, but muffles an announcement about an approaching downtown train which was already difficult to hear.

Constitutional

The clock keeps ticking as I wait for Willie to come upstairs and get my key, so he can fix my leaky faucet later in the day.  At 8:15, I call him and it turns out he had an emergency to deal with.  He apologizes and sends Antonio to fetch the key.

While walking to the subway, I send emails to a few friends who are coming with me to a taping of the Daily Show later tonight. I won four VIP tickets at a Mount Sinai Panoply and want to arrange where we’ll be meeting.

Inside the station, Newspaper Guy says hello.  Marc R. is at the foot of the stairs and also says hi.  He asks if he’ll be mentioned in my blog and we briefly discuss the new draft of the Mount Sinai constitution.  Marc led a campaign against the first draft, which failed to be voted in by the synagogue membership.  He tells me that not all his issues have been addressed in the latest revision, but the most important ones were and feels comfortable with it.

I start walking towards my spot and pass Zippy K. sitting on bench while listening to music and sipping coffee from a Dixie cup.  She waves hello.  Sara R. is also nearby and says hi. Today, her hair is wavy. I wonder what is she doing in the middle of the platform; she is always near the stairs. 

David M. waves as I pass him and the train arrives just as I get to my spot.

Flying Solo

As I exit my apartment building, hurrying for work, Anat C. walks in and says hello.  She works in my building, in an office on the first floor, so I occasionally run into her there.  Outside, the weather has turned sour again.

I'm pretty late already, and the subway platform is practically empty. On board the train, a tan man in blue jeans and a brown coat has fallen asleep while standing. There are a few other people in the car, including one woman I recognize from synagogue, but the person that grabs my attention most is a tall African American man.   He is dressed entirely in black leather, save for a gray overcoat and knitted gloves.  Even his fedora is leather.  Walking aimlessly about and muttering to himself, the man is still able to hold the command of presence that is all too typical in New York City.  He notices me and, through darkened sunglasses, shoots a dirty look in my direction.

Screwdriver

It’s still early when I head down to the basement, where I can exit through the building’s back door and head to the laundromat.  Downstairs I run into Willie, the building superintendent, and we have a lengthy conversation about my leaky faucet and the exterminator schedule.  Antonio, who is working on a project to install a supporting bracket for every air conditioner in the building, is also in the basement.  He recently finished my air conditioners and I let him know that he left his screwdriver at my place, and Willie jokes that every apartment has a remnant of Antonio’s toolbox.

At the laundromat, I ask if they will press pants without cleaning them.  The woman tells me they will do it for $3.00 instead of the usual $4.50 though sadly, they won’t wash-without-press for $1.50.

On my way to the station I realize I am wearing brown shoes and a very decisively brown outfit, and ponder the thought of people color coordinating Yamikas as well, in a Jewish metro-sexual kind of way.  On the platform, I say hi to Yoni S. and slap him five.  He is wearing sunglasses (although they might be transition lenses) and, still being winter outside, I sneer at them.  When the train arrives, I get a seat and settle in, and think about the updates I will need to give at my 9:30 meeting.

Myriad of People, Myriad of Thoughts

The problem with a loose shoelace is that once you untie and re-tie, you must do it again to the other shoe even if the other show was perfectly fine to begin with. The urge is simply uncontrollable, and it's exactly what I do, propping my foot up on a stoop at the corner of 186th and Overlook.

I run into Yael B. in the tunnel that leads to the station and say hello. She waves briefly as she passes me. I also see Harriet T. near the metrocard machines. "Don't you go writing about me in your blog!" she hollers after me, smiling, as I enter the turnstiles.

The platform is crowded and I pass a myriad of faces belonging to people that are familiar (mostly from synagogue) but whom I don't actually know. I let one of them, a pale skinned girl with dark hair and features, get ahead of me into the train.

At 59th, the D Train arrives quickly, giving me plenty of time to pick up breakfast before work; I even get a seat. As I sit down for the short ride, I start to look forward to what will hopefully be a great new week.