Hustle and Bustle

I haven’t left my apartment early, nor have I left it late. I am leaving precisely on time, which might explain all the unusual hustle and bustle downstairs when I exit the building. It seems all of Washington Heights is on their way to work or school. At the entrance to the A train, a woman insists on giving me an AM New York, explaining that it’s free and has clip-able coupons inside. I decline.

I see Tall Jewish Girl, the second day in a row, sitting on one of the benches in the platform. Closer to my spot, I take my own bench-seat and Shuli B. walks by, saying hello as she does.

On the train, a very large Black man is sitting next to me, but, being on an end seat, I am not squished or wedged. The man is wearing striped brown pants and a twill beret, a heavy corduroy jacket covering most of the rest of him. The woman caddy corner to us is coughing incessantly, sniffling and snuffling without pause (and without tissue) for two stops. Avoiding further exposure, I stand up and walk to the doorway, even though I know it will mean standing the entire ride.

When I get off the train, I head towards Milk and Honey for a bagel and coffee. It’s the first day since New Year’s I don’t eat breakfast at home. I expected to buy a yogurt at the kiosk in the lobby of my office, but there is still time to spare for a proper meal instead. Afterwards, I run into Ezra T. I know him from college and we must work in the same neighborhood, since I run into him from time to time. I’m glad to see he has managed to retain a full head of hair after all these years.