November Rain

December took me by surprise today. Isn't November a month that should have 31 days, despite the song we learn as children? At least the air, when I get downstairs, feels more like winter.

I walk to the A station and through the turnstiles. Jenny R. is in front of me, walking down the stairs, but she doesn't see me. On the platform, I see the curly hair girl I met two weekends ago, her name now completely escapes me. She waves. Also on the platform is Caryn L. She is sitting on a bench, reading. She doesn't see me and I continue walking to my spot, board the train, and get to work on time for a change.

Anime

Legally speaking, pedestrians always have the right of way. This well known, ill adhered-to rule should at least be respected on rainy days. That is why I am angry at a Family San Juan livery driver who cuts me off at the crosswalk, pulling up just too far for me to jump ahead before he turns at the stop sign.

I walk into the station, Aviva P. not too far behind. By the time we reach the turnstiles she has caught up and says hello. On the platform, Tzippy H. is waiting patiently for the train but misses me as I walk by. Caryn L. is also there, and she waves from the distance.

On the train, I sit next to a middle aged woman wearing striped gray pants, cowboy boots, and a long blue coat with a tan trim and big buttons. Most striking about her is that she is watching a Japanese cartoon on her iPod. The show, or movie, has lots of sword fighting, kissing, and the giant eyes typical of Anime. It's odd to see someone her age interested in cartoons, with the technical knowhow to mobilize them, and with the geekdom to watch them in public. I think there's open position in my department I want to tell her about.

One Big Happy Family

Walking towards the train station, I see Mrs. H. talking to Gilit H. at the corner, near the Breuer’s elementary school. Walking behind me is the guy who works in my office building who’s name I don’t know. Aliza B. is also somewhere behind me.

I enter the station, and the smell of urine is a bit stronger than usual. The guy from my office passes me in the tunnel, and then I pass him back on the stairs, heading down to the platform.

The platform is replete with familiar faces. David M. is standing close to the edge, looking out for the next train, and Caryn L. is sitting on one of the benches. Benny S. is talking to a girl; I can’t quite make out who she is. When the train arrives they board the same car as I do, as does Lisa K. I disappear to the corner and watch TV on my phone.