Anyone who reads my blog regularly knows that I am regularly late, and today is no exception. I have two additional stops before work - the garbage (and recycling) and the laundry. Awkwardly, I try to carry everything down at once and call for the elevator. Realizing just as I press ‘B’ that I have left gloveless, I run out and watch as the elevator descends without me. Its Godly punishment, and a few more precious minutes pass while I retrieve my gloves and get the elevator back.
On 186th Street I see Mor R. She is moving this week, and walking over to the new pad to clean up and wait for a furniture delivery. A mother and child, no older than 2, are walking past the scaffolding on the side of 110 Bennett, where all the cinder blocks and a Porta-Potty are kept. The child points to the blocks and asks what they are. The woman responds that "they are doing construction." Am I an overzealous non-parent for thinking this is a wildly stupid response? It doesn't answer the boy's question at all. How many two year olds know the meaning of the word construction? And who, exactly, are "they?"
On the train, I sit next to a person I am convinced is Webster. I try not to stare but the urge does not relent, so when a tube of Chapstick pops out of his bag and lands near me I am quick to pick it up and hand it back. I am thanked by what is a very distinctly female voice, not very Webster after all.
A homeless man walks by and asks us for change, then sits on a nearby bench to wait for the next stop. Next to him, a lunatic woman with a dirty yellow hat starts to mutter, gradually working up to a shout. She-Webster looks at me, then points to the woman and makes a "crazy" gesture by twirling her finger near her head. We both smile.
As I stand up to get off at 59th, She-Webster drops a glove without noticing. I point it out and she thanks me again, and wishes me a good day.
Ken H. is on the platform at 59th, looking engrossed in music as he shuffles ever so slightly and taps his foot. I like Ken and always enjoy talking to him, but I don't know if I should walk over to him. After all, it's still early by many - if not my employer's - standards.
Getting off at 47th, I see Ken again and he says hi. He is on his way to work, which is in the Newscorp building. I tell him I used to work for Newscorp and after a bit more chat we part ways. He heads to the office, I head for a bagel.
1 comments:
Ely, speaking from experience, you can tell a kid anything. And whether they understand it or not, most of the time they'll just accept it. You can get away with a lot that way.
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