Laryngitis

I’m officially sick this morning. I feel OK, even the bit of cold from yesterday seems to have subsided, but there is no voice to be heard of. I can feel the swelling in my larynx and when I try to speak, nothing comes out at all. It’s an experience I haven’t felt since grade school but since I feel fine I cough it up to talking too much at dinner last night. I make tea and take it with me on the way out, in a Dixie Grab N’ Go cup. It’s a tip I picked up a few years ago from Caryn, who makes her own coffee for the subway ride.

On Overlook, near the corner of 186th, I see Aviva P. heading towards the station. I get into the station and down to the platform, and pass her as I walk to my usual spot. I walk by David S. too. He smiles and waves. David M. is also here, and he nods when I walk by him a moment later.

There is a saxophone player on the platform today. He is wearing white button down shirt with a New York sweatshirt over it, and dark blue jeans. A gray felt hat matches the sweatshirt. The sax case, open on the floor in front of him, is draped with an American flag and has a few dollars in it.

On the train, there is no chance of a seat. A young woman is standing next to me, reading FT Wealth with a copy of today’s Financial Times folded behind it. She has straight brown hair, brushed to her right, with giant ears poking out each side. Her lip is terribly bitten, and she continues to chomp on them as she reads. I bite my own lip for a second, and am surprised to find it rather soothing, the way I imagine smoking cigarettes must feel to addicts. I bite the other side, then, amidst momentary relaxation, remind myself I already have enough bad habits already.