Quiet Time

After a traumatic experience with a palmetto earlier this morning, I am not particularly overjoyed at the thought of yet another morning commute. The mugginess in the air does not help. On the way to the station I walk behind a young Hispanic girl in denim jeans and Ked-like shoes. She's wearing a blue jersey with "Posadas" printed across the back, and I wonder if it's a tribute to the capital city of the Misiones Province in Argentina, or to the famous Trotskyist Juan Posadas.

Inside the station I see Esther B. and Jenny R. talking at the bottom of the steps and join them just as the train pulls in. Rabbi B. is also there and he nods to me when I wave hello. I sit next to Esther and Jenny, and Jenny points towards the other end of the car where Aviel T. is sitting, not far from another familiar neighborhood face. I don't know him, but Esther tells me his name is Ariel. When she says "Ariel," I think she's referring to "Aviel" and I correct her but she repeats "Ariel". His name is Aviel, I say. She says no, the one in the blue shirt is Ariel, but Aviel and Ariel are both wearing blue. Eventually we sort it out.

Jenny asks where I work but like most people has never heard of the company and can't pronounce the name, so I give her my business card. She works downtown on the East side and loves her job. I notice that she is wearing a red headband that nicely matches her red handbag, which is draped over her black jumper. Esther is wearing a black top and a green sweater but I can't see her skirt at all because she has laid several books across her lap. We are not allowed to talk anymore, she says, because she has to study, lest her professor call on her during class. I protest, but she seems exceedingly tense so I let it go and turn to my Sudoku book to pass the time.

I get off at 59th and say goodbye to Jenny and Esther, and wiz by Aviva P. on the platform as I walk towards my spot.