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.