It may still be a while till the autumnal equinox, but for most New Yorkers this is this last week of summer. Maybe that’s why there are so many white pants about on my way to work today. There’s a well known rule that white pants are forbidden in the Northeast after Labor Day, and people are trying to squeeze as much summer as they possibly can into these final seven days. More beach, more outings, more summer flings. More white pants.
As I walk into the station I spot Scott S. about a block behind me. I can hear a train pulling into the station and there is a mad rush to through the turnstiles. I don’t understand, since the train is an uptown, but I get closer and I see there is also a downtown train and I run downstairs. I make the train, but only because it is being held at the station.
An Orthodox woman with a black top and flowery skirt runs into the train just as the doors start to close, and her red leather handbag gets caught in between. She grabs hold of the straps with both hands, leans back, and tries to pull it free, like a little girl playing tug of war. The woman is scolded by the conductor before the doors open just wide enough to free the bag.
Sitting across from me is heavy set Hispanic woman, wearing black pants and a black t-shirt with a blue sweater above it. The sweater does not match, and the metallic clasps on her sandals make me cringe when I notice them. The woman is eyeing me suspiciously. I eye back. She looks away momentarily then shuts her eyes for two minutes, and we repeat the process a few more times before she finally gets off.
At 59th I run into Sara S. and we talk about the weekend. She went parasailing with some friends and I went biking and visited my friend Rachel who has just moved into a new apartment. As far as end of summer activities are concerned, she definitely has me beat.
Monday, August 31
Friday, August 28
Rain Friday
It's raining but I am too lazy to carry an umbrella, and from the looks of it I can manage without. I see Aliza G. just outside my building. She is spending a few weeks out of town, at her parents, but came in for one night, to attend an interview.
On 186th I see Lisa K. and she waves from across the street. There is a woman in sporty clothes on the porch of 45 Overlook, presumably stretching before a run, but she actually seems to be engaged a full Pilates session. I keep walking and see the Station Homeless Guy in front of the entrance to the A. He asks for charity, and I wonder where his girlfriend is. Inside the station, I also begin to wonder if he is responsible for the putrid smell of urine that permeates the tunnel.
I go through the turnstiles and down to the platform, where Alisha K. is thoroughly engaged, like other Orthodox subway-riding women, in her morning payers. I walk down to my spot, praying the rain will have stopped by the time I get out.
On 186th I see Lisa K. and she waves from across the street. There is a woman in sporty clothes on the porch of 45 Overlook, presumably stretching before a run, but she actually seems to be engaged a full Pilates session. I keep walking and see the Station Homeless Guy in front of the entrance to the A. He asks for charity, and I wonder where his girlfriend is. Inside the station, I also begin to wonder if he is responsible for the putrid smell of urine that permeates the tunnel.
I go through the turnstiles and down to the platform, where Alisha K. is thoroughly engaged, like other Orthodox subway-riding women, in her morning payers. I walk down to my spot, praying the rain will have stopped by the time I get out.
Thursday, August 27
Tounges and Hair
It's another day late to work. Although it's a drag just to get downstairs and out the building, I am excited my first full week back at work is now more than half over. Just outside I see Aliza B. but she is walking North on Bennett, away from the train station.
At the corner, I run into Mirele D. who greets me by sticking her tongue out. She is jolly as ever and the world would be so much better if we all could smile as much as Mirele does. I reach the next corner and the Con Ed crew from yesterday is still there.
To get a seat on the train, it's important to know exactly where on the platform to stand, but the real trick is to always know exactly where you are going to go once inside. That means quickly scouting out the car, even while it's still moving and before the doors open. The technique lands me a seat across from a young Asian women wearing striped pants and a pink short sleeve shirt.
The woman's hair is in a poof, an accidental spike of unwanted tresses and locks. She somehow realizes this and while glancing and me glancing at her, she pushes it down with her hand. The woman quickly checks her reflection in the window, then looks at me again and smiles.
At the corner, I run into Mirele D. who greets me by sticking her tongue out. She is jolly as ever and the world would be so much better if we all could smile as much as Mirele does. I reach the next corner and the Con Ed crew from yesterday is still there.
To get a seat on the train, it's important to know exactly where on the platform to stand, but the real trick is to always know exactly where you are going to go once inside. That means quickly scouting out the car, even while it's still moving and before the doors open. The technique lands me a seat across from a young Asian women wearing striped pants and a pink short sleeve shirt.
The woman's hair is in a poof, an accidental spike of unwanted tresses and locks. She somehow realizes this and while glancing and me glancing at her, she pushes it down with her hand. The woman quickly checks her reflection in the window, then looks at me again and smiles.
Wednesday, August 26
Yellow Sweater
As soon as I walk out the building, it seems to be a busy morning all around me. Workers are climbing up and down the wobbly ladder leaning against the scaffolding at 110 Bennett, a woman is training her dog with a large stick, and at the corner of Overlook and 186th a there is full size Con Edison crew, complete with tractor, that has dug up a large chunk of the ground. The putrid smell of gas is in the air all around me.
Rebecca S. is nearby and we meet up across the street. She is wearing a bright yellow scarf sweater except it’s not a sweater, it’s a t-shirt. She tells me it’s called a “t-shirt with a scarf.” It looks great and I want to photograph it for my blog, but Rebecca won’t let.
We both walk into the station together, chatting more about her clothes and random other topics. On the platform, I see Benny S and wave. Rebecca sees a friend that is moving into a new apartment this week, and stops to chat with him for a moment. Then we run in Zehava K. and I stop to talk to her. As the train arrives, Rebecca continues further on, towards the front, by herself.
Zehava gets a seat and I stand next to her. She asks about my trip and if I got to see Matt in Israel. Matt left Israel the day I arrived there, I tell her, and he left New York the day I got back, but we did manage to catch each other for about an hour right after I landed. She also tells me she thinks Rebecca’s shirt is great and I should mention it in my blog. When a seat finally opens up across from Zehava, I grab it, and she slips on her headphones I slip mine on too. Holding up my Blackberry for her to see I’m listening to the soundtrack from Once, which I know she loves, I slowly fade into “Falling Slowly.”
Rebecca S. is nearby and we meet up across the street. She is wearing a bright yellow scarf sweater except it’s not a sweater, it’s a t-shirt. She tells me it’s called a “t-shirt with a scarf.” It looks great and I want to photograph it for my blog, but Rebecca won’t let.
We both walk into the station together, chatting more about her clothes and random other topics. On the platform, I see Benny S and wave. Rebecca sees a friend that is moving into a new apartment this week, and stops to chat with him for a moment. Then we run in Zehava K. and I stop to talk to her. As the train arrives, Rebecca continues further on, towards the front, by herself.
Zehava gets a seat and I stand next to her. She asks about my trip and if I got to see Matt in Israel. Matt left Israel the day I arrived there, I tell her, and he left New York the day I got back, but we did manage to catch each other for about an hour right after I landed. She also tells me she thinks Rebecca’s shirt is great and I should mention it in my blog. When a seat finally opens up across from Zehava, I grab it, and she slips on her headphones I slip mine on too. Holding up my Blackberry for her to see I’m listening to the soundtrack from Once, which I know she loves, I slowly fade into “Falling Slowly.”
Tuesday, August 25
Willow
It’s nice that the heat has really broken. It’s still summer in New York City, but the wave of disgusting mugginess is finally over. I walk briskly to the station and catch the train just as it is pulling in. Miriam B. is here. She gets a seat right next to Jon E. who says hello. I sit across from them, but Miriam still takes a moment to ask about my recent trip to Israel.
Daniel F. walks right by me. He says hello to some other bloke on the train but then moves on. I am pretty sure he saw me, so I wonder if he just didn’t recognize me, or if he didn’t say hello because he is now engaged to one of my recent X’s best friends, somehow turning me off limits.
Next to me is an young Orthodox Jewish man, heavy set with blondish hair and stubbly cheeks. He has on blue jeans, a t-shirt, and sandals. He keeps trying to talk the girl next to him and show her things on his Blackberry, but she seems irritated each time. She is content to listen to her IPod, which is wrapped in a cloth case that, were it not form fitted around a piece of modern technology, might be three or four decades old. Finally she takes the Blackberry from his hand, read for a few seconds, and bursts out laughing. They spend the rest of the time chatting.
Across from me Miriam has settled in with her own IPod and is reading Soap Digest. Jon, in his beige shorts and red t-shirt, is reading The Economist, and on Miriam’s other side a woman is read Yoga Magazine. I take out the New Yorker and join them, music playing on my Blackberry in the background.
At 59th, I switch to the D train. There is a middle-aged man standing near me, tall and broad, with a pony tail of gray streaked hair. He turns around and I see his hair is thinning at the top and he has a thick mustache hanging above his lips, along with large round glasses and a wide belt. What really stands out though, is a necklace constructed of a standard metallic link chain, with a large Jewish star attached at the front. In one hand, the man is carrying today’s paper. In the other, bunches of willow stalks sprouting from a large shopping bag.
Daniel F. walks right by me. He says hello to some other bloke on the train but then moves on. I am pretty sure he saw me, so I wonder if he just didn’t recognize me, or if he didn’t say hello because he is now engaged to one of my recent X’s best friends, somehow turning me off limits.
Next to me is an young Orthodox Jewish man, heavy set with blondish hair and stubbly cheeks. He has on blue jeans, a t-shirt, and sandals. He keeps trying to talk the girl next to him and show her things on his Blackberry, but she seems irritated each time. She is content to listen to her IPod, which is wrapped in a cloth case that, were it not form fitted around a piece of modern technology, might be three or four decades old. Finally she takes the Blackberry from his hand, read for a few seconds, and bursts out laughing. They spend the rest of the time chatting.
Across from me Miriam has settled in with her own IPod and is reading Soap Digest. Jon, in his beige shorts and red t-shirt, is reading The Economist, and on Miriam’s other side a woman is read Yoga Magazine. I take out the New Yorker and join them, music playing on my Blackberry in the background.
At 59th, I switch to the D train. There is a middle-aged man standing near me, tall and broad, with a pony tail of gray streaked hair. He turns around and I see his hair is thinning at the top and he has a thick mustache hanging above his lips, along with large round glasses and a wide belt. What really stands out though, is a necklace constructed of a standard metallic link chain, with a large Jewish star attached at the front. In one hand, the man is carrying today’s paper. In the other, bunches of willow stalks sprouting from a large shopping bag.
Red
I’m almost out of clean clothes, which is not a good thing considering I've reverted to my "late every day" schedule. I drop my laundry at the Laundromat, and the woman asks about delivery, to which I concede and then head back down Broadway. Behind me I catch the glimpse of a young woman in light colored shorts and a gray t-shirt. Her legs are long, and her hair is an intriguing, fiery red. I can't tell if it is natural or not but I am apprehensive to turn around and check. I do it anyway, sheepishly trying to look poised when I do, but it turns out she is too far away and the mystery persists. I slow my pace, then try again. Up ahead, near Key Food, I spot Avi Z. all dressed up for work. I can’t remember ever seeing him in anything but casual, except in synagogue.
Back on Bennett, I am almost entirely sure that is Ayala S. walking ahead in the distance, her back to me. Near the subway station, I spot Estie H. She is wearing a long black skirt and dark long sleeve shirt. I want to say hello but she is ahead of me and once inside she takes the upper catwalk above the platform. Once upon a time, I would frequently use the catwalk in the mornings, to avoid running into people. This was better than the risk of spending the entire commute forced to talk with some socially awkward neighbor I barely know. I don’t think she has even seen me, but for a moment I wonder if she is avoiding me on the catwalk.
On the platform, I am convinced I see Lisa K. until I am close enough to realize the person in question looks nothing like her. I do see Aliza B. who waves and asks how I’m doing. We board the train and there are no seats, but at least I get the best stand in the house – right next to the connecting doors at the end of the car. At 175th, Aliza gets a seat, not too far from where I’m standing and one stop later, I am lucky to get a seat of my own as well.
Back on Bennett, I am almost entirely sure that is Ayala S. walking ahead in the distance, her back to me. Near the subway station, I spot Estie H. She is wearing a long black skirt and dark long sleeve shirt. I want to say hello but she is ahead of me and once inside she takes the upper catwalk above the platform. Once upon a time, I would frequently use the catwalk in the mornings, to avoid running into people. This was better than the risk of spending the entire commute forced to talk with some socially awkward neighbor I barely know. I don’t think she has even seen me, but for a moment I wonder if she is avoiding me on the catwalk.
On the platform, I am convinced I see Lisa K. until I am close enough to realize the person in question looks nothing like her. I do see Aliza B. who waves and asks how I’m doing. We board the train and there are no seats, but at least I get the best stand in the house – right next to the connecting doors at the end of the car. At 175th, Aliza gets a seat, not too far from where I’m standing and one stop later, I am lucky to get a seat of my own as well.
Friday, August 21
The Last Day of the Week
It's early, and the streets are empty as I walk to the train in the morning breeze. I get to the station and down to the platform, and it is almost empty too. Somewhere towards the back a man is busking a tune on a saxophone, interrupted occasionally by the crazy rants of a homeless person across the tracks.
I get on the train and run into Ariella G. She takes a seat next to Cassie F. who is already on board. Cassie is so engrossed in her book she doesn’t realize we are there. I stand next to the two of them and chat with Ariella. She is wearing a thin gray top with a black skirt and a gray-black scarf to match. She is wheeling a red and gray suitcase with her, and she tells me she is going to visit her grandmother for the weekend.
Cassie yelps when she finally notices us. It’s her last day at the summer job she’s been working, with two weeks of vacation before she start school again. Her coworkers are planning a surprise party for her, but she found out and just needs to decide how surprised she is going to act. For the occasion, she has dressed in a green shirt, with white stripes, and a long black skirt.
We chat some more untill I get off at 59th. Scattered on the platform floor are the remains of a newspaper coupon section, and a few people are surreptitiously eyeing them. Finally, one women bends down and saves $1 off her next purchase of Colgate.
I get on the train and run into Ariella G. She takes a seat next to Cassie F. who is already on board. Cassie is so engrossed in her book she doesn’t realize we are there. I stand next to the two of them and chat with Ariella. She is wearing a thin gray top with a black skirt and a gray-black scarf to match. She is wheeling a red and gray suitcase with her, and she tells me she is going to visit her grandmother for the weekend.
Cassie yelps when she finally notices us. It’s her last day at the summer job she’s been working, with two weeks of vacation before she start school again. Her coworkers are planning a surprise party for her, but she found out and just needs to decide how surprised she is going to act. For the occasion, she has dressed in a green shirt, with white stripes, and a long black skirt.
We chat some more untill I get off at 59th. Scattered on the platform floor are the remains of a newspaper coupon section, and a few people are surreptitiously eyeing them. Finally, one women bends down and saves $1 off her next purchase of Colgate.
Thursday, August 20
The Heat Is On
I’m not quite running late today, but considering how many hours I’ve already been awake I really should have left a long time ago. Jetlag, with a little bit of extra insomnia and the achy cold I picked up overseas make for a bad recipe and so I’m not particularly in the mood to get to work anytime soon. On the street, I start to flip through the songs on my blackberry and fail to notice the piece of scaffolding on the ground until I trip over it. Ezra F. is walking across the street.
I reach Overlook Terrace and I see the A Station Homeless Guy pushing his cart up the block towards me. His new girlfriend is still with him, she is clinging to his side. She has a stern look about her but he seems happier than I’ve ever seen him before. Closer up I can’t help but notice how much younger she is than him, and I think she must view him as a sort of protector in her unsheltered world.
I reach the turnstiles and get the infamous “insufficient fare.” It’s so hot and humid in the station that by the time I’ve purchased a new card I am sweating. Down at the platform the heat is worse and I slowly feel the antiperspirant start to give way. I am glad I use Dial.
Meyer B. is at the platform and starts speaking to me but I can’t hear him because my music is playing too loudly. I fumble to pull the headphones out of my ears and am able to piece to together that he has told me about four uptown trains that have passed and that a downtown train must be on the way soon. I have no idea why I find this funny but I start to chuckle and keep walking towards my spot. It’s so hot that I can’t stand still, and I start to pace even though I know it will actually make me hotter. I run into Marc R. and we wave to each other. Further on the platform I can see Yael B. talking to Simone G.
Nomi G. spots me and walks over. We start to chat about Chicago, weekend plans, holiday plans, and many other various topics. The train arrives and we board together and continue the conversation, but it’s so crowded that we keep bumping into each other. My left arm is sandwiched between my body and the door.
We are somewhere between 145th and 125th when the shot of Dayquil I took finally starts to kick in. At 59th, I say goodbye to Nomi and as I walk off the train she asks for the link to my blog.
On 48th street I spot Lovey E. and catch up to her. She works across the street from me and we try to get lunch together once a month or so but our schedules are such that I haven’t actually seen her in a really long time. I am surprised, and somewhat jealous, that she is wearing a t-shirt and when I ask about it, she tells me that she sometimes walks to work. She likes to wear comfortable clothes and then change when she gets there. I walk with her the rest of the way to her office and cut thru her lobby to get to my own building. There is nothing quite like that cool, crisp air conditioning as it strikes against me.
Wednesday, August 19
Back to Work
It barely 7 A.M. when I leave my apartment but I've been up for hours thanks to jetlag. I'm heading back to work already and not quite as refreshed as I should be following vacation. The temperature is hot and the air feels humid, particularly after having spent two weeks in what is essentially a desert. There is hardly anyone on the street yet.
I wonder if my metrocard has expired. It hasn't. I'd expect more people on the platform, even at this hour, since the 1 train is not running after the ceiling collapsed at the 181st street station. I see Marissa W. but she is engrossed in something or other so I just walk by.
At my spot I see Estie R. sitting on a bench, with a new, tiny nose ring that looks great on her. She has been away for some time, in Africa and on then on the West Coast, but I don't get to hear much about the trip or what she did there. Instead we spend most of the time discussing a new building on the Upper West Side that she's planning to move in to. She gets off at 125th and I continue on to 59th, completely unprepared to face the day ahead.
I wonder if my metrocard has expired. It hasn't. I'd expect more people on the platform, even at this hour, since the 1 train is not running after the ceiling collapsed at the 181st street station. I see Marissa W. but she is engrossed in something or other so I just walk by.
At my spot I see Estie R. sitting on a bench, with a new, tiny nose ring that looks great on her. She has been away for some time, in Africa and on then on the West Coast, but I don't get to hear much about the trip or what she did there. Instead we spend most of the time discussing a new building on the Upper West Side that she's planning to move in to. She gets off at 125th and I continue on to 59th, completely unprepared to face the day ahead.
Monday, August 3
My Fare Lady
I'm a bit late and rushing as I go downstairs and run into the building superintendant. I've left the keys with him so he can install a new stove in my kitchen while I'm at work, and as I walk by he slaps me a high 5 and says we are all set to go.
At the station there is a small buildup of traffic at the turnstiles. A women in front of me is trying to get through but the message reads "Insufficient Fare." She tries again. Again. And again. Behind me, a man makes a clicking noise with his tongue against his front teeth, and follows it with a sigh. The fare on the card is still insufficient when she tries a fourth time. Finally, she doubles back to go get a new card and I see she is somewhat attractive. In her late 30's and rather tall, she is wearing uncreased navy pants and a white short sleeve shirt with an orange pattern. Her short, cropped hair is dyed blonde with red highlights.
David M. is on the platform and we wave good morning to each other as I pass him and head towards my usual spot. I also see Michael, whose last name I can never recall, sitting on a bench. He is blond and I remember him from an overseas summer study program we both attended. It was the summer between my Sophomore and Junior years at college, and although we ended up living in the same neighborhood, I don't think I have spoken to him since.
Down towards my spot there is a gentleman playing guitar and singing beautifully in Spanish . The guitar is old but the tone is crisp as the man picks at the strings, and his voice is both soothing and relaxing, a surprise in the New York City subway.
The train arrives, and I sit near a window. The lady with the insufficient fare sits next to me and it is now that I notice her brown leather flats, which have a gator skin pattern. She is of East European decent, or perhaps Russian, it is difficult to tell exactly. Like me, she spends most of the ride focused diligently on her blackberry.
Later, outside the bagel store, I see Chaim H. He is an old friend from college that I started running into when Cafe K stopped opening for breakfast, and I started going to Milk and Honey instead. As I head towards my office I think of the guitar player on the station and wish I had thought to drop some money in his case.
At the station there is a small buildup of traffic at the turnstiles. A women in front of me is trying to get through but the message reads "Insufficient Fare." She tries again. Again. And again. Behind me, a man makes a clicking noise with his tongue against his front teeth, and follows it with a sigh. The fare on the card is still insufficient when she tries a fourth time. Finally, she doubles back to go get a new card and I see she is somewhat attractive. In her late 30's and rather tall, she is wearing uncreased navy pants and a white short sleeve shirt with an orange pattern. Her short, cropped hair is dyed blonde with red highlights.
David M. is on the platform and we wave good morning to each other as I pass him and head towards my usual spot. I also see Michael, whose last name I can never recall, sitting on a bench. He is blond and I remember him from an overseas summer study program we both attended. It was the summer between my Sophomore and Junior years at college, and although we ended up living in the same neighborhood, I don't think I have spoken to him since.
Down towards my spot there is a gentleman playing guitar and singing beautifully in Spanish . The guitar is old but the tone is crisp as the man picks at the strings, and his voice is both soothing and relaxing, a surprise in the New York City subway.
The train arrives, and I sit near a window. The lady with the insufficient fare sits next to me and it is now that I notice her brown leather flats, which have a gator skin pattern. She is of East European decent, or perhaps Russian, it is difficult to tell exactly. Like me, she spends most of the ride focused diligently on her blackberry.
Later, outside the bagel store, I see Chaim H. He is an old friend from college that I started running into when Cafe K stopped opening for breakfast, and I started going to Milk and Honey instead. As I head towards my office I think of the guitar player on the station and wish I had thought to drop some money in his case.
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