Farewell and Goodbye

Aliza G. is meeting me downstairs. We‘re both running late, and she phones to tell me she can’t wait too long, but I get there before she leaves. The two of us walk and talk. On Overlook I spot Esther A. in the distance, then see Yosef M. as well.

In the tunnel, Aliza says hello to someone I don’t recognize. We reach the platform and Avi H. walks by, then Sara S. emerges from the top of the stairs. Aliza says hello to another passerby just as the train arrives. I run in and save a row of benches so that Aliza and Sara and I can all sit together. Aliza stays behind as Sara and I get off at Columbus Circle. We switch to the Orange line and take that to Rockefeller Center, where she enters her building through an underground tunnel and I walk out onto 48th street.

Sometimes, I do odd things. For the past 365 days I have kept a running blog of every single train I have ridden to work. I hope you have enjoyed reading this blog as much as I have enjoyed writing it, but now it’s time to move on to something else. Thank you to the dear friends who encouraged me and sent me bits of fan mail. To the rest you, you can stop running the other away when you see me in the morning.

Sticky and Sound

Someone dropped a rosemary stalk, in the elevator, and a straw too.  The floor's also pretty sticky, and when I get out my shoes feel glued to the ground for the next couple of steps.  Outside, one of the old ladies who live in my building is sitting in the courtyard on a lawn chair.  I wish her a good morning and she heartily responds with blessings for a good day.

Rachel L. swings past the intersection of Overlook and 186th, and I catch up to her right before the subway entrance.  Rabbi B. is also nearby and says hello. Rachel and I walk through the tunnel and down to the platform, then into Jenny R. who forgets that I exist while talking to Rachel about her recent engagement.  When the train arrives, I try to convince Rachel that since she works on 47th, she should be at the southern end of the platform, where she can get out right on 47th, instead of 50th, where she will get out if she is in the back.  She is set in her ways, however, and I walk alone to the other end.

Ominous Weekly

I'm super late once again. There seems to be no way around it; without jetlag assistance, I'm hopeless. Downstairs at the lobby, a neighbor holds the door open for someone else but not for me, and I can't help but wonder if it’s an ominous sign of the day approaching.

I text Aliza to see if she wants to take the subway together, since she usually leaves at this hour, but it turns out she’s running even later than me so I head over to the station alone. At the entrance, I see Josh C. pacing around, as if he is waiting for someone.

On the platform I walk past Yaffa J. She is saying the morning prayers and doesn’t see me. Neither does Karen L. when I walk by her. The train arrives quickly and I find a seat, don my headphones, and get ready to watch the next episode of "True Blood" on my phone.

Exhaustion

A few drinks too many last night, and I am suffering from exhaustion this morning as I leave for work.   It’s not that I drank too much, just that I was out too late and didn’t get enough sleep.  My legs are having trouble coordinating with each other, which is particularly stressful as the JP Morgan Chase Corporate Challenge is tonight.

For breakfast, I take a package of rice cakes with me and I eat half of it on the way to the subway, wrapping up the other half and throwing it into my backpack alongside sneakers and shorts.

On the platform, I see Malka S.  sporting a baby carriage (child inside).  As soon as the train arrives, I scout for the most comfortable seat and swiftly enter a deep sleep, all the way to Columbus Circle.

No Rush

Down at the lobby, I run into Menachem M. He moved into the building a relatively short time ago, but we know each other from a trip to Russia back in 2004.  He is dressed nicely, with a backwards baseball cap that can barely contain his lengthy hair.  We exchange morning pleasantries and I head outside, where I recognize a grown man to be a former Moshava camper. I was his bunk counselor and have no idea how he can look the same two decades later.

Badly in need of caffeine, I stop off at Dunkin' Donuts, leaving a voicemail for an x-girlfriend on the way.  At the counter, I ask the woman for no sugar, then change my mind and ask for a spoonful. This seems to aggravate the young lady.

Walking to the train, I realize how late I am but it’s OK.  It's going to be a very long day and I am in no rush to get it started.

Sticky Situation

The "True Blood" season 3 premiere is loaded on my phone and ready to go. I just need to avoid people at all costs; if I start watching as soon as I get on the subway, I should be able to finish the entire episode before I get to work.

Its unusual how the vampire culture has entranced the modern audience. This leaves me, a fan of vampires long before their Americanization (I own a copy of the original Bram Stroker film, starring Bela Lugosi, from 1931) with a bit of scorn and disdain. I remember a time when vampires were the evil, soulless creatures that haunted the night. Today's undead wimps couldn't beat My Little Pony in a wrestling match if their lives depended on it. At least they’ve managed to gain a great deal of sexiness in the transformation.

After saying goodbye to my cleaning woman I run into my next door neighbor, wish him a good morning, and head downstairs. In the lobby Mo H. bolts past me, holding his tefillin in one hand and his E.M.T. radio in the other. I can't tell if he's on an emergency call or just late to minyan, or both.

Walking down the steps to the platform, a woman stops abruptly. She is quite tall, and lanky, with light gray pants an elegant sleeveless top. She has stepped in gum, and in her struggle to dislodge it from the bottom of her sandal she has created a stringy mess that spans both feet, two stairs, and the banister. When she sees I've noticed she starts to crack up and we both have a good laugh to start the day.

Tremors

It's a dreary day out, and a bag full of heavy laundry doesn't help the scene. On the way to the laundromat, I see Will A. exiting from the synagogue, and Jeremy S. (presumably having just left synagogue as well) across the street. On the way back, I pass David H. and we both wave.

The next stop is Dunkin' Donuts but the line for coffee is too long so I walk out and head over to the train station. Along the way I run into Meyer B. and he offers a salute. I nod in response.

In the tunnel, a wide Hispanic woman in a green shirt and gray capris is sporting the world's loudest flip flops. The sound of each step she take radiates through the station like a minor earthquake. Past the turnstiles and all the way on the other side of the platform, I can still hear the clickety clack of her pacing.

The train is crowded, but I manage to get a seat; it’s a few more minutes of respite before the work week begins.

An Early Start

Even without Jetlag, I can sometimes leave the apartment early. I'm excited to get to work on time, not because I love work so much but because the sooner I get there the sooner I'll leave and the sooner my weekend will start.

On 186th I spot Sara K. going into her building. We wave and I continue on, seeing Ezra F. from across the street when I reach Overlook.

A bald cop holds the door open for me at the station. On the platform I run into Josh and Malka S. I'd normally stop and chat with Josh for a while (he is one of my favorite fellow techies and an old time friend) but I don't want to interrupt their conversation.

The train is crowded and I'm standing shoulder to shoulder with a few people, including a pregnant woman of about my height. She is wearing a gray maternity size t-shirt, black pants, and flat shoes. Her fingers are chunky. Some nearby offers their seat to the pregnant woman but she declines.

I switch trains at 59th and get off at Rockefeller. Exiting the station, on my way to get some breakfast, I unexpectedly run into Aliza B. She says hi and asks how I'm doing and we chat for a brief moment before she turns off onto 46th street and I continue on my way.

Part of the Club

It's always a bit strange to walk out into your hallway and be greeted by a giant, albeit old, washing machine. I'm not sure what it's doing there, but it's there. In the elevator I run into one of my neighbors and we briefly discuss BP stock prices, and right outside the building I see Mo H.

On the platform, a short woman in loose black pants is reading the New Yorker. I've been reading it religiously for over a decade, often while riding the subway, and I think it’s probably the best magazine this side of the Mississippi (and the other). The thing about the New Yorker is that when you subscribe, you don't just get a new magazine. You become part of the club. This can have a profound effect of arrogance, and when you see someone else reading it, there is wide slew of emotions that emanates.

On the one hand one enjoys being part of any group, especially one that feels so exclusive. On the other hand, we all like to believe we are the only ones with the intellectual prowess to belong to this club. So, who is this woman and why does she think she can read my magazine? I don't know, and I'll never find out, because the train arrives and I get on, forgetting about her black pants and shiny new issue.

Lobbying for Time

Judy R. gets into the elevator on the second floor with her two children (double stroller). She tells them I'm very friendly with their uncle Ari and they should say hi, which they do. I say hi back and give a friendly wave just before getting out on the lobby floor.  I'm in the wrong lobby. It's 9:04 A.M. and I thought I'd be walking into my office building by now, but it appears I'm still at home.

On 186th, an Orthodox Jewish girl pulls her skirt down a bit lower. She keeps doing this till we reach the train station, or at least until I lose her at the turnstiles.

In an effort to avoid anyone I know and finish reading an article on the Borukhova case, I use the catwalks above the tracks to reach my spot. Looking down below I spot Suri G. and wonder what she's doing here, since she lives further downtown. Mental note: get the gossip.

On the train I grab a seat next to Ronnie S. who is so engrossed in his phone that he barely acknowledges me, even when I say hello. I'm not easily offended though, and by the time he puts his phone away and takes out a Sefer, I've already forgotten and opened my New Yorker.

Le Pensuer

When a shiny minivan pulls up next to me on 186th street, I think at first that the car is just parking. It is, but it turns out Gershon S. is the driver and, after spotting me through the windshield, starts honking like a madman. We chat for a while and he tells me about his new upstart business, Hudson Heights Restoration.

Zehava K. walks by and I join up with her. She wants to hear all about Matt's wedding in Israel, which I attended in May. I spot Lisa K. on Overlook while talking to Zehava, and we also pass Rabbi B. He waves. When we reach the platform, Uri M. walks by and says hello.

Zehava looks ponderous and I want her to assume the position of Le Penseur, to photograph for my blog, but she doesn't agree. On the train, she grabs a seat but I stand, preferring that to squeezing between two fairly large people on the bench across from her. At 59th, we both get off and wave goodbye.

Walking towards Park, I see my old girlfriend Debbie R. but by the time I recognize her, it's too late to say hello. As quickly as the fleeting summer nights so many, many years ago, she has disappeared into her office building.

Party Time

I've gotten used to leaving my apartment in the early hours so today, having overslept as much as I did, I'm surprised at how much light is out already. There's a fresh cool breeze though, which after yesterday's sweltering heat just about makes up for anything.

I head to the station, through the turnstiles, and down to the platform. Aviva P. is near the bottom of the stairs. As the train approaches, Ken H. walks by and we fist-five each other as he passes.

There are plenty of seats on the subway; I grab one and - finally off my video kick - start reading the New Yorker. I'm three months behind, but plenty of subway time to catch up.

At Rockefeller, as I get off the train, I spot Ilan K. in the distance. A guy who is very much defined by his curly hair, we have mutual friends and have met at various parties, including my some of my own birthday parties. And while the memory of those parties makes me want to head straight to any open bar, I follow the crowd up the stairs and to the office instead.

U Rock

I run into some neighbors in the elevator, then make my way to the garbage room where I dump a large bag of trash and some recycling. Heading out the back door, I mail some letters at the dropbox on 187th and Broadway and then to Dunkin' Donuts for a much needed cup of coffee. Being National Donut Day, I expected a longer line, and am surprised to find only two people ahead of me. The girl behind the counter pours milk into my coffee and asks if it's a good color. I tell her it’s great, and notice she's wearing a "U Rock" sticker on her left cheek. "Yea," she says, "I rock!"

Today is the first day, since I returned from Israel, that I woke up later than I wanted. I'll still make it to work on time, but I'll need to skip the gym and its unlikely I'll have time to go after work or during lunch.

At the station I run into Nomi G. and we ride a relatively uncrowded train together, discussing a large number of topics ranging from naked male yoga to California geology.

At 59th I get off and switch to the D train, but when the B arrives across the platform an announcement is made stating the B would be leaving first, so I hop across, making it inside just as the doors close.

Bump

I’m carrying a large shopping bag today, with an ergonomic Microsoft keyboard which I needed at the office but had accidentally shipped to my apartment instead. As I walk outside the building I run into Avi T. and we say good morning to each other. On the corner of 186th and Bennett, I also see Ezra F. We say hello. Near the entrance to the station I see Steven S. and wave to him too.

The station is scorching and everyone around me seems to have broken sweat, including the teenage girls with a miniscule denim skirt. Sitting next to me, her hair is in pigtails and she is working on a report about World War I. To my right several people are playing games or emailing on their phones. A girl with very large feet walks by.

On the train, I want to watch a movie I’ve downloaded to my Blackberry but the file is corrupt and it won't play, so I listen to music instead. At 59th The B is across the platform so I stride across. Some people run and one woman wallops into me. I can't hear what she says afterwards, because my music is on too loud, but at first I assume she has apologized, until I look at her expression. I think she might have been telling me I should watch out.

Travel Travails

My friend Rachel calls me while on my way to work to ask a few questions about Petra and Jordan, where she'll be visiting later this week. Standing outside the station, while still talking to her, a few familiar faces walk by but the only one I really know is Yehuda B. He waves and disappears inside.

On the platform, I find a seat on a bench near my spot. David H. walks by and waves. Uri H. and Avi H. also walk by, but don’t seem to notice me. Neither does Elisheva E. when she strolls past. I am left all alone to my thoughts, mostly consumed with Rachel’s trip as well as my friend Adina’s trip. She is also leaving today, for a month long cross country drive. I am jealous.

La Luna

I'm eating a Luna Bar. This is funny to me because the Luna Bar states that it's made specifically for women.  Don't men need calcium too? I wonder if the company's gain on the female demographic outweighs the loss on the male side.

Heading out of the building, I catch a glimpse of today's front page. Israel faces "international backlash" because Israeli commandos, while raiding a foreign vessel that broke through the Gaza blockade, were assaulted.  The commandos, initially armed with Paintball guns, were heavily outnumbered and were only given the OK to use their hand pistols when the men on board started attacking with knives, metal rods, and live ammunition.

On Overlook, Ben S. exits his building and rushes towards the station. My thoughts return to Luna’s marketing and leads me to think about how terrible most TV commercials have become. Madison Avenue has reached a new level of corn with some of its latest campaigns.

Hard to believe, but I am running late again. Not by much though and if the trains cooperate I will still make it to my morning yoga class.  I suppose all the recent travel has finally caught up with me (I fell asleep at 8:30 last night) and started to wear me out.

The train arrives shortly after I get to the station. The conductor's heavy Austrian accent makes me feel as though I might be riding in the next Bruno movie.  "One chundred and etee feerst strit. Stand chlear of the chlosing doors pleace."