Fools

The air outside is crisp this morning, it is finally starting to cool off. I'm tired, and the continuing construction at 110 Bennett is irritating.

At the station, a large group exits the elevator from Fort Wash. The platform rumbles with the sound of a moving train and they all run for it en masse, realizing only seconds later that it was headed uptown.

Rabbi B. is sitting on a bench near the bottom of the steps and says good morning. A sizable crowd has gathered on the platform and when a C train rolls onto the tracks everyone lines up, confused (only the A normally stops here), but hoping to get on. The train continues past the station.

A woman, a sort of blond version of the TV character Detective Beckett, bites into a muffin then places it back into a brown paper bag. She's reading a photocopied article titled "The Gregorian: a Tool For Assessment and Intervention in Child Welfare." Her dark, pressed pants are worn over thick boots, the outline of which shows clearly from beneath her knees till her ankles.

Yehuda B. passes by, poised in sharp gray longcoat, and issues a standard military salute. I respond with a head nod.

On the train, a young Asian is holding the musical book "Rhythmic Training” in one hand and air-conducting with the other, his head swaying with each stroke and his floppy hair following just behind. He is wearing sandals. Many on the train are eyeing him, some even giggling.

I switch at 59th, then exit the subway at Rockefeller, stopping off at Starbucks and then Milk and Honey. On line at M&H, I’m surprised to recognize the man ahead of me as the same man that was ahead of me on the Starbucks line. He orders a bagel with egg and cheese. I order my bagel with cream cheese, and it arrives first. Smug, I pay and head for work.