It’s bitter outside. Frostbite only takes about 15 minutes to set in, and it’s cold enough that I’m genuinely concerned. Right outside my building, as I fend off a strong gust of wind, someone I don’t recognize says hello and wishes me a good morning. A few seconds later, Meyer B. passes me and also says good morning.
At the train station, on the platform, I recognize the bored girl I sat across from earlier this week. This time her tights are solid black, and she is wearing a bright pink hat. Walking towards my spot, I pass Ezra F. sitting and reading. Across the platform, a homeless man is laying on one of the benches and has covered himself using a gray sweatshirt with Hebrew lettering. It reads “Kobi’s Bar Mitzvah.”
Margie C. walks over just as the train pulls into the station and we board together. We chat a little about jetlag , a little about her attractions, and mostly about marriage and relationships in general. Margie is vivid as she speaks and often gestures with her hand. At one point, she practically whacks the newspaper out of an innocent bystander. We all laugh, and Margie asks if I will write about it in my blog.
Friday, January 29
Thursday, January 28
A Slew of Peeps
It's while waiting for the elevator that I notice the downpour of snow outside the hallway window. It looks beautiful, but the sky is menacing and I can feel the cold draft through the cracks in the window's frame. I get into the elevator and run into Mo H. twice. First, while throwing out the garbage - Willie the super is also down in the basement - and later in the lobby. Venturing outside and onto Bennett, I pass Shaindle S.
I stroll slowly to the station, and take in the fall of snowflakes. I even consider stopping to photograph them, but reluctantly I continue towards the train; I don't want to ruin this week's perfect streak of getting to work on time.
Ezra B. overtakes me on Overlook and I congratulate him on his recent engagement. He thanks me and mentions my blog, saying that he was thinking about the "Raise Plow" sign from yesterday's post. We chat some more before parting ways at the platform. While boarding the train I run into Doron S. He and his son are getting off and Doron waves and he bends down to take his son's hand.
At 59th, we pull into the local track. There is a another A train parked on the express track, numerous police offers strutting about. A stranger, who has also just gotten off the same train I was on, shoots me a look of wonder. Caroline M. walks by, and up the stairs to the exit. Both A trains pull out shortly afterward, a D arrives, and I continue on to another day of work. On time.
I stroll slowly to the station, and take in the fall of snowflakes. I even consider stopping to photograph them, but reluctantly I continue towards the train; I don't want to ruin this week's perfect streak of getting to work on time.
Ezra B. overtakes me on Overlook and I congratulate him on his recent engagement. He thanks me and mentions my blog, saying that he was thinking about the "Raise Plow" sign from yesterday's post. We chat some more before parting ways at the platform. While boarding the train I run into Doron S. He and his son are getting off and Doron waves and he bends down to take his son's hand.
At 59th, we pull into the local track. There is a another A train parked on the express track, numerous police offers strutting about. A stranger, who has also just gotten off the same train I was on, shoots me a look of wonder. Caroline M. walks by, and up the stairs to the exit. Both A trains pull out shortly afterward, a D arrives, and I continue on to another day of work. On time.
Wednesday, January 27
A New Sign
Having just missed the elevator, I take the stairs down to the lobby. Outside the building I see Avi N. walking back from synagogue, alongside someone else whose face I can't make out from the distance.On the corner of 186th Street and Overlook a primitive "Raise Plow" sign, painted on a plank of wood, has been attached to a lamppost. I am pondering its origin when a car pulls up next to me. My next door neighbor Shaindle S. rolls down the window and, as other cars behind her start honking, she asks if I can drop a letter into the mailbox for her. I happily oblige and use the opportunity to further examine the sign, which is actually just above the mailbox.
Further ahead, I see Nomi G. on her cell phone as she enters the train station. I make it to the platform and spot Sara R. at the bottom of the stairs. Her hair is perfectly straight. Walking to my spot, I pass Giti L. and she waves. I wave back and, continuing on, pass Nomi, who is now talking to someone else and doesn't notice me. The train pulls in just as I reach my spot.
At 59th, I sit on a bench to wait for one of the Orange-line trains. I think that’s Bonnie G. who has just passed me, in a pristine white coat and high heels; she walked by too quick to tell. I'll email her later and find out.
Tuesday, January 26
Still On Time
I leave my apartment at 8:02 on the dot, just as soon as NY1's Weather on the Ones is over. My jacket hung open and toting a coffee filled Dixie cup, I walk down Bennett towards the train station.
I am pondering risqué Unix commands when Shifra A. drives by in her black SUV. Just waiting for the cars to pass so I can cross, I don't notice her until she waves. At the entrance to the station, I see Avi C. He is a few feet ahead of me and I don't think he notices. I am friendly with his older brother and don’t really know him that well, but we spent much of last Sukkot together.
On the train, I sit across from a girl I recognize from synagogue. She has funky diamond-knit tights, a gray plaid skirt, and a puffy black coat. She looks utterly bored.
The woman next to me, reading "The Kite Runner," is pressing her right thigh against mine. I inch away slightly and notice the dirt stains on her white coat. Just then, a new song comes on. "What's the meaning of life?" Gabriella Cilme asks me through my headphones. I start to wonder.
I am pondering risqué Unix commands when Shifra A. drives by in her black SUV. Just waiting for the cars to pass so I can cross, I don't notice her until she waves. At the entrance to the station, I see Avi C. He is a few feet ahead of me and I don't think he notices. I am friendly with his older brother and don’t really know him that well, but we spent much of last Sukkot together.
On the train, I sit across from a girl I recognize from synagogue. She has funky diamond-knit tights, a gray plaid skirt, and a puffy black coat. She looks utterly bored.
The woman next to me, reading "The Kite Runner," is pressing her right thigh against mine. I inch away slightly and notice the dirt stains on her white coat. Just then, a new song comes on. "What's the meaning of life?" Gabriella Cilme asks me through my headphones. I start to wonder.
Monday, January 25
Jetlag and Gym
Due entirely to jetlag, I was up at 3:30 A.M. and as I leave for the gym, I think about the last time I worked out. It was way back on December 12th, and the jetlag may be exactly what I need to work it back into my morning routine.
I leave my apartment carrying my laptop case, a cup of coffee, and an umbrella. The coffee is Starbucks House Blend, freshly brewed in my own kitchen, and is there to satisfy my caffeine addiction (the urge doubles whenever I return from Israel). The umbrella is there because it's raining, hard.
It's also very windy. Earlier, a full bottle of shampoo was blown off the bathroom windowsill. To protect against the elements, I am wearing my navy blue down jacket, and have reattached the hood, which I rarely use.
At the station, I buy a metrocard and make it to the platform just before the train arrives. I am easily able to get a seat, but am still surprised to see this many people on board so early in the morning. I rest my coffee cup on the seat next to me while I fiddle with the music on my Blackberry. However, I am careful to remove it before the next stop, in case someone wants to sit there.
Across from is me a thin, blond girl with many bags and blue Land's End coat on her lap. She is wearing a pretty flower-patterned shirt and purple pants. I can't help but notice she is also wearing a thumb ring. The pattern is too far away to decipher, but whatever it is, I like it.
The girl's large head and small face makes her nose look bigger than it is. Her eyes look sad and worn, as if she'd been crying or not sleeping enough. She nods away while studying handwritten notes on some unknown topic.
A man is giving out religious pamphlets, and I appreciate that, noticing my yamika, he skips past me. "Thank you, Jesus loves you," he says to those who take. He speaks in Spanish or English.
As the train ride progresses and I get closer to Midtown, I prepare myself for the return to work, working out, and a whole slew of new leaves I am about to turn.
I leave my apartment carrying my laptop case, a cup of coffee, and an umbrella. The coffee is Starbucks House Blend, freshly brewed in my own kitchen, and is there to satisfy my caffeine addiction (the urge doubles whenever I return from Israel). The umbrella is there because it's raining, hard.
It's also very windy. Earlier, a full bottle of shampoo was blown off the bathroom windowsill. To protect against the elements, I am wearing my navy blue down jacket, and have reattached the hood, which I rarely use.
At the station, I buy a metrocard and make it to the platform just before the train arrives. I am easily able to get a seat, but am still surprised to see this many people on board so early in the morning. I rest my coffee cup on the seat next to me while I fiddle with the music on my Blackberry. However, I am careful to remove it before the next stop, in case someone wants to sit there.
Across from is me a thin, blond girl with many bags and blue Land's End coat on her lap. She is wearing a pretty flower-patterned shirt and purple pants. I can't help but notice she is also wearing a thumb ring. The pattern is too far away to decipher, but whatever it is, I like it.
The girl's large head and small face makes her nose look bigger than it is. Her eyes look sad and worn, as if she'd been crying or not sleeping enough. She nods away while studying handwritten notes on some unknown topic.
A man is giving out religious pamphlets, and I appreciate that, noticing my yamika, he skips past me. "Thank you, Jesus loves you," he says to those who take. He speaks in Spanish or English.
As the train ride progresses and I get closer to Midtown, I prepare myself for the return to work, working out, and a whole slew of new leaves I am about to turn.
Friday, January 15
Makes Me Wonder
I swear I'd like to slug that AM New York peddler square across the face. Every morning, she has the same stupid banter as I walk into the station.
Rabbi G. is on the platform and says hello. On the train, I lean on one of the doors. There is a seat nearby, occupied by none other than the bag of the passenger in the next chair. Clad in a plethora of winter clothing, it's difficult to say whether the passenger is male or female. It is, however, quite evident from facial characteristics and other various signs that the passenger is developmentally disabled.
A woman asks the passenger to move the bag so she can sit. She is answered with a frighteningly blank stare. Another woman walks over and also asks to sit, and the passenger tantrums momentarily, twice punching the wall and letting loose a gargantuan groan. Then, without a word, the passenger removes the bag. Neither of the two women wants to take the seat, however, and it is a third woman, boarding at the next stop, who takes it without incident.
It makes me sad, and I start to wonder about many things in life. The train arrives at 59th and I step off, spotting Doron S. in the distance. On 6th Avenue, while walking to Milk and Honey for breakfast, I see Yochanan A. I don't think he notices me and I just walk by, in a rush to get to work on time. Then it suddenly occurs to me - the passenger was wearing pink. She was a woman.
Rabbi G. is on the platform and says hello. On the train, I lean on one of the doors. There is a seat nearby, occupied by none other than the bag of the passenger in the next chair. Clad in a plethora of winter clothing, it's difficult to say whether the passenger is male or female. It is, however, quite evident from facial characteristics and other various signs that the passenger is developmentally disabled.
A woman asks the passenger to move the bag so she can sit. She is answered with a frighteningly blank stare. Another woman walks over and also asks to sit, and the passenger tantrums momentarily, twice punching the wall and letting loose a gargantuan groan. Then, without a word, the passenger removes the bag. Neither of the two women wants to take the seat, however, and it is a third woman, boarding at the next stop, who takes it without incident.
It makes me sad, and I start to wonder about many things in life. The train arrives at 59th and I step off, spotting Doron S. in the distance. On 6th Avenue, while walking to Milk and Honey for breakfast, I see Yochanan A. I don't think he notices me and I just walk by, in a rush to get to work on time. Then it suddenly occurs to me - the passenger was wearing pink. She was a woman.
Thursday, January 14
Beautiful Nightmares
Dumping the garbage on the way down, I head outside via the open courtyard behind the basement exit. The air on Bennett Ave. is fresh, calm, and strangely serene. For the nth time this week, I run into Ezra F. near my building. Walking slowly, and thinking of the song "Falling Slowly" (simply because it rhymes), I take my time getting to the station.
"Current events, everything that's going on in the world, right here in AM New York." The woman holds out a newspaper and shoves it close to my nose. It's a daily event now.
The train pulls into the station just as I reach the stairs leading down to the platform. From the top, I can see Sara R. though she doesn't see me. Trying to get as close to my spot as possible, I pass Josh and Malka S. I try to say hi, but they don't see me either. When the doors open, I board right behind Kara G.
The door we came through closes, and Kara leans on it, while I lean on the door directly across from her. The advantage of my side is that it will open at the next two stops, but not again before I get off. It's a bit of investment for a better ride.
Kara is wearing an elegant gray coat and has a matching plaid bag slung over her right shoulder. Her gloves are the kind with a flip-over mitt that can expose fingertips, a style that seems to have become very popular in light of text messaging and full keyboard phones.
Nearby I can hear "Sweet Dreams, or a Beautiful Nightmare" playing through someone else's very loud headphones. I wish I was still in bed, getting some dreaming of my own for a little bit longer. I am daydreaming, at least, alerted as such by a beautiful smile from a young woman in who's direction I must have been blindly staring at. Funny thing, to be daydreaming about night-dreaming.
"Current events, everything that's going on in the world, right here in AM New York." The woman holds out a newspaper and shoves it close to my nose. It's a daily event now.
The train pulls into the station just as I reach the stairs leading down to the platform. From the top, I can see Sara R. though she doesn't see me. Trying to get as close to my spot as possible, I pass Josh and Malka S. I try to say hi, but they don't see me either. When the doors open, I board right behind Kara G.
The door we came through closes, and Kara leans on it, while I lean on the door directly across from her. The advantage of my side is that it will open at the next two stops, but not again before I get off. It's a bit of investment for a better ride.
Kara is wearing an elegant gray coat and has a matching plaid bag slung over her right shoulder. Her gloves are the kind with a flip-over mitt that can expose fingertips, a style that seems to have become very popular in light of text messaging and full keyboard phones.
Nearby I can hear "Sweet Dreams, or a Beautiful Nightmare" playing through someone else's very loud headphones. I wish I was still in bed, getting some dreaming of my own for a little bit longer. I am daydreaming, at least, alerted as such by a beautiful smile from a young woman in who's direction I must have been blindly staring at. Funny thing, to be daydreaming about night-dreaming.
Wednesday, January 13
Jam Packed
Right outside my building I see Ezra F. He says hello and I cross the street, on my way to the subway. When I reach Overlook, I look back towards 187th and I can see Ruthie W. walking with her husband.
The platform is packed. Marc R. is here and nods to me; I say hello and continue walking, through a myriad of people, towards my spot. Passing Kara G. I wave, and she smiles in return. Jon E. is standing near my spot when I reach it.
An A train comes and goes without stopping. There are numerous announcements about mechanical delays on the A line as the station continues to fill with impatient passengers. When another train finally arrives it is already packed with people and I spend the ride squashed between a small man of questionable scent and the very large purse of a woman.
The platform is packed. Marc R. is here and nods to me; I say hello and continue walking, through a myriad of people, towards my spot. Passing Kara G. I wave, and she smiles in return. Jon E. is standing near my spot when I reach it.
An A train comes and goes without stopping. There are numerous announcements about mechanical delays on the A line as the station continues to fill with impatient passengers. When another train finally arrives it is already packed with people and I spend the ride squashed between a small man of questionable scent and the very large purse of a woman.
Tuesday, January 12
New Playlist
Plan A was to get to work early. I'm four minutes late for Plan B, which is to get to work on time. Outside my apartment, the building reeks of paint, and I'm happy to get outside. The cold air causes my eyes to water, and I can barely make out a neighbor sitting inside a double parked car, engine idling. Across the street, one of the neighborhood Shatnez testers is walking towards down Bennett with a backpack strapped around his shoulders. Is he housecalling?
On 186th, I spot Marc R. in a dark trench coat. Inside the station, the same over-aggressive AM New York woman that was there yesterday is once again trying to pawn papers away on account of the free coupons inside.
I get to the turnstiles and down to the platform, walk to my spot and slip my headphones on. Last night I copied a whole slew of new songs onto the Blackberry. Pink Floyd's "Waiting for the Worms" is the first song to come on.
Yael B. walks by and waves. I see David M. nearby, but I'm not sure if he sees me. I lean back against the wall as Malka S. also passes and waves.
On the train, there are no seats but I get the spot at the end of the car, so I can lean on the door. "Mary's in India" is playing when I feel a knock behind me. Stepping aside, I watch the conductor exit the control booth and walk about eight feet into the car, then ask a teenage boy to give up his seat for an elderly woman. The woman thanks the conductor, but insists she is OK. The boy is relieved. By the time the entire exchange is over I'm on to another song, Pink's "Stupid Girls". The conductor returns to the booth and closes the door behind him.
Walking from Rockefeller to the office, I see someone wearing the same exact coat as Aliza and I think of her. She works afternoons and doesn’t normally get up this early, which makes me jealous. I text her. I’m not entirely evil; she asked me to give her a wakeup call, though technically that would not be for another five minutes.
On 186th, I spot Marc R. in a dark trench coat. Inside the station, the same over-aggressive AM New York woman that was there yesterday is once again trying to pawn papers away on account of the free coupons inside.
I get to the turnstiles and down to the platform, walk to my spot and slip my headphones on. Last night I copied a whole slew of new songs onto the Blackberry. Pink Floyd's "Waiting for the Worms" is the first song to come on.
Yael B. walks by and waves. I see David M. nearby, but I'm not sure if he sees me. I lean back against the wall as Malka S. also passes and waves.
On the train, there are no seats but I get the spot at the end of the car, so I can lean on the door. "Mary's in India" is playing when I feel a knock behind me. Stepping aside, I watch the conductor exit the control booth and walk about eight feet into the car, then ask a teenage boy to give up his seat for an elderly woman. The woman thanks the conductor, but insists she is OK. The boy is relieved. By the time the entire exchange is over I'm on to another song, Pink's "Stupid Girls". The conductor returns to the booth and closes the door behind him.
Walking from Rockefeller to the office, I see someone wearing the same exact coat as Aliza and I think of her. She works afternoons and doesn’t normally get up this early, which makes me jealous. I text her. I’m not entirely evil; she asked me to give her a wakeup call, though technically that would not be for another five minutes.
Monday, January 11
Hustle and Bustle
I haven’t left my apartment early, nor have I left it late. I am leaving precisely on time, which might explain all the unusual hustle and bustle downstairs when I exit the building. It seems all of Washington Heights is on their way to work or school. At the entrance to the A train, a woman insists on giving me an AM New York, explaining that it’s free and has clip-able coupons inside. I decline.
I see Tall Jewish Girl, the second day in a row, sitting on one of the benches in the platform. Closer to my spot, I take my own bench-seat and Shuli B. walks by, saying hello as she does.
On the train, a very large Black man is sitting next to me, but, being on an end seat, I am not squished or wedged. The man is wearing striped brown pants and a twill beret, a heavy corduroy jacket covering most of the rest of him. The woman caddy corner to us is coughing incessantly, sniffling and snuffling without pause (and without tissue) for two stops. Avoiding further exposure, I stand up and walk to the doorway, even though I know it will mean standing the entire ride.
When I get off the train, I head towards Milk and Honey for a bagel and coffee. It’s the first day since New Year’s I don’t eat breakfast at home. I expected to buy a yogurt at the kiosk in the lobby of my office, but there is still time to spare for a proper meal instead. Afterwards, I run into Ezra T. I know him from college and we must work in the same neighborhood, since I run into him from time to time. I’m glad to see he has managed to retain a full head of hair after all these years.
I see Tall Jewish Girl, the second day in a row, sitting on one of the benches in the platform. Closer to my spot, I take my own bench-seat and Shuli B. walks by, saying hello as she does.
On the train, a very large Black man is sitting next to me, but, being on an end seat, I am not squished or wedged. The man is wearing striped brown pants and a twill beret, a heavy corduroy jacket covering most of the rest of him. The woman caddy corner to us is coughing incessantly, sniffling and snuffling without pause (and without tissue) for two stops. Avoiding further exposure, I stand up and walk to the doorway, even though I know it will mean standing the entire ride.
When I get off the train, I head towards Milk and Honey for a bagel and coffee. It’s the first day since New Year’s I don’t eat breakfast at home. I expected to buy a yogurt at the kiosk in the lobby of my office, but there is still time to spare for a proper meal instead. Afterwards, I run into Ezra T. I know him from college and we must work in the same neighborhood, since I run into him from time to time. I’m glad to see he has managed to retain a full head of hair after all these years.
Friday, January 8
Slippery When Wet
It snowed overnight, and it’s still flurrying when I get downstairs, small snowflakes landing on my glasses. The ground is slippery, and on 186th street a little girl is pretending to skate on the ice while holding her father’s hands. He tells her that on the weekend he’ll take her skating in a real rink.
I see Jon E. up ahead at the corner of 186th and Overlook, along with Tall Jewish Girl, who I see all the time. I reach the station and run into Malka S. at the entrance. As I enter, she is on her way out, and wishes me a good morning.
Miriam C. is on the platform, just at the bottom of the stairs. I almost don’t recognize her all hooded up in her navy coat. We chat for a while, until I hear the train coming and make for my usual spot.
I see Jon E. up ahead at the corner of 186th and Overlook, along with Tall Jewish Girl, who I see all the time. I reach the station and run into Malka S. at the entrance. As I enter, she is on her way out, and wishes me a good morning.
Miriam C. is on the platform, just at the bottom of the stairs. I almost don’t recognize her all hooded up in her navy coat. We chat for a while, until I hear the train coming and make for my usual spot.
Thursday, January 7
Viagra Vacation
It’s the third day in row forgoing Starbucks for my own brew, but with less time available this morning (snooze malfunction), I have to take it on the go. The cup is warm in my palms.
Ezra F. is on Bennett Avenue, most likely on his way to synagogue. I walk to the station and on my way down the steps I see Josh S. near the turnstiles. I want to get to my spot so I don’t wait to say hello. On the platform, I pass Zippy K. and then Kara S. She waves.
Sarah M. is also on the platform. I ask her to hold my coffee while I finish typing an email on my Blackberry, and by the time I’m done the train arrives. We board together and speak mostly about the same thing we did last time we took the train together – travel and vacations. She tells me how, on a recent trip to Israel, her plane made an emergency landing in Rome. On the way back, she got stuck in Brussels and made friends with a fellow Washington Heights resident, whom she recognized at the airport. They toured together for several hours, until the trouble at Newark ended and their flight was able to take off. Our conversation ends, just before I get off at 59th street, with a discussion about her profession, pharmaceutical advertising. Though Viagra is one of her firm’s clients, she does not have that account.
Ezra F. is on Bennett Avenue, most likely on his way to synagogue. I walk to the station and on my way down the steps I see Josh S. near the turnstiles. I want to get to my spot so I don’t wait to say hello. On the platform, I pass Zippy K. and then Kara S. She waves.
Sarah M. is also on the platform. I ask her to hold my coffee while I finish typing an email on my Blackberry, and by the time I’m done the train arrives. We board together and speak mostly about the same thing we did last time we took the train together – travel and vacations. She tells me how, on a recent trip to Israel, her plane made an emergency landing in Rome. On the way back, she got stuck in Brussels and made friends with a fellow Washington Heights resident, whom she recognized at the airport. They toured together for several hours, until the trouble at Newark ended and their flight was able to take off. Our conversation ends, just before I get off at 59th street, with a discussion about her profession, pharmaceutical advertising. Though Viagra is one of her firm’s clients, she does not have that account.
Wednesday, January 6
Slopes
I’ve been trying to keep my New Year’s resolution but it seems with every day I slip a little further, leaving the apartment a bit later each morning. I’m also still suffering from “did I leave it on” syndrome with my new coffee machine, still only three days old.
The train arrives as I head down the steps to the platform. I think I spot Raizelle A. at the bottom of the stairs, though I'm not certain it’s her. She has a wheelie suitcase and looks at me, as if she's also trying to place who I am. Further down Emily L. is boarding the train. I walk past her and board as well, suddenly finding myself in a jam-packed train. Amidst the crowd, my earphones slip in, and I slip away.
The train arrives as I head down the steps to the platform. I think I spot Raizelle A. at the bottom of the stairs, though I'm not certain it’s her. She has a wheelie suitcase and looks at me, as if she's also trying to place who I am. Further down Emily L. is boarding the train. I walk past her and board as well, suddenly finding myself in a jam-packed train. Amidst the crowd, my earphones slip in, and I slip away.
Tuesday, January 5
Deeply Cold
It's early and it's cold. The streets are quiet, devoid of people save for myself and an Asian woman in a long blue overcoat. I start to wonder if getting to work on time will be healthy for my blog.
At the train station, the scene is mostly the same. A few scattered passengers here and there, waiting at the platform. Everyone is dressed for warmth. A slew of winter fabrics are on display - goose feather jackets, wool overcoats, and an array of gloves, boots, and hats. Further down I see David M. wearing a black Russian ushanka. He gets my vote for both warmth and fashion.
On the train I slip my headphones on, and slide my own gray wool hat over them. Hitting the shuffle button on my Blackberry starts streaming Styx's "Lady 95" into my ears. I am deeply weary, tired mentally and physically despite a full night's sleep and only one day back after a long weekend. I close my eyes and wait for the morning caffeine to get working.
At the train station, the scene is mostly the same. A few scattered passengers here and there, waiting at the platform. Everyone is dressed for warmth. A slew of winter fabrics are on display - goose feather jackets, wool overcoats, and an array of gloves, boots, and hats. Further down I see David M. wearing a black Russian ushanka. He gets my vote for both warmth and fashion.
On the train I slip my headphones on, and slide my own gray wool hat over them. Hitting the shuffle button on my Blackberry starts streaming Styx's "Lady 95" into my ears. I am deeply weary, tired mentally and physically despite a full night's sleep and only one day back after a long weekend. I close my eyes and wait for the morning caffeine to get working.
Monday, January 4
A New Year Begins
The prospect of returning to a five day workweek after the holiday season is never an enticing one. Leaving my apartment, I wonder if I might have left my new coffee machine on by accident. I’ve only used it twice and haven’t quite gotten used to it yet, and I don’t remember anything about an automatic turn-off in the manual.
I’m holding the book “Brisingr” in my hands. My neighbor, in the elevator, asks if I like it. I tell him I find it entertaining , but that it’s no literary masterpiece. He saw the movie “Eragon”, based on the first book in the series, and didn’t like it. I couldn’t agree more.
I get to the station, walk through the tunnel, and - hearing the train arrive as I pass the turnstiles - make a run for it. I am surprised to be out of breath by the time I get to the platform and onto the train, but I do make it on board before it leaves the station. I am well on the way to getting to work on time – my New Year’s resolution.
I’m holding the book “Brisingr” in my hands. My neighbor, in the elevator, asks if I like it. I tell him I find it entertaining , but that it’s no literary masterpiece. He saw the movie “Eragon”, based on the first book in the series, and didn’t like it. I couldn’t agree more.
I get to the station, walk through the tunnel, and - hearing the train arrive as I pass the turnstiles - make a run for it. I am surprised to be out of breath by the time I get to the platform and onto the train, but I do make it on board before it leaves the station. I am well on the way to getting to work on time – my New Year’s resolution.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)