Tourists

Ah, tourists.  Why anyone would travel to a winter clad New York, when the same money can get take them to the warm shores of San Juan or Miami Beach, is a mystery to me.  Next to me on the bench, waiting for the A train, are two foreign women scouring through subway maps of Manhattan and site seeing coupon books.  I'm trying to discern what language they are speaking when Miriam C. walks over.

Ken H. passes us on the platform and waves just as the train arrives.   Miriam and I ride together to 59th street.  I stick around to wait for the B or the D, and she walks makes the exit.  She turns around for a moment, to say goodbye, and WACK!  She slams right into a solid blue pillar.  I yell "that's going in the blog" with a distinctly evil grin.