Same Old Song and Dance

Late again, though not as bad, it seems like this week has been much of a wash. Downstairs, some old Russian babushkas are chatting just inside the entrance to my building. They are blocking the door so I just stand there till one of them notices. “It’s OK” she says and motions for me to walk past. I shoot a look of wonder at her, and she realizes her cart is obstructing the door. “Sorry,” she says and moves it.

On the platform I see Jon E. and Yoni S. Neither of them notice me as I walk past them to my spot. On the train, a short man with a gray sweatshirt, black nylon pants, and a leather vest is sporting a spiky Mohawk and chatting with a friend a few seats down. I suppose the 80’s really are back, and I tune my Blackberry playlist to a set of 20 year old dance mixes.