The Nook

I love jetlag. I’ve been up since 2:30 AM but I’m finally leaving for work on time. On the way to drop off some laundry I see Eric B. as he exits from synagogue. On the way back, I pass David H. and he says hello as I walk by. Simone G. is in the distance too, but she is too far to see me.

I stop at Dunkin’ Donuts for a medium coffee with lots of milk, then make my way through a sudden misty drizzle to the train station. On Overlook I see Jon E. and then run into him again on the platform. He says hello and I ask what paper he’s reading. It’s AM New York. He uses it as a metric for train speed; if he is done with it by 59th street he knows the train has been moving slow.

Taking a seat on a bench, I notice the woman next to me is using a Nook. Even in New York City, striking up a conversation with a stranger can take a bit of balls, but I do it anyway and ask about the device. She tells me she loves it, that it is the best purchase she has ever made. Her father bought the Kindle and hates it, though the Kindle comes with more freebies and promos.

The screen, when I glance down at it, seems incredibly sharp. She says it’s easy on the eyes, and that new downloads take only a few seconds. I ask her about the “feel” of a book and she tells me that is one thing she does miss. Interestingly, she will still buy the print edition of a book, just to keep on her shelf, even after she has read it on the Nook. I mention that I do the same for music and movies that I have downloaded. The train arrives and I thank her just before boarding and finding a seat.

Snip, Snip

It’s strange how I’ve called in late this morning, so that I can attend the bris of my friends’ newborn son, and yet I’ll probably arrive at work earlier than usual. When I leave the bris, which is at the synagogue just across the street from my building, I run into Eric B. who is walking outside. He nods when he sees me and I wave hello in response. Further on, at 186th, I see another familiar face. I don’t know his name, but I met him a few years ago at my friend Talia’s dinner table, and he is a certified lunatic. I don’t bother to say hi and keep walking towards the train station.

Normally, I don’t mind signs posted along the street on lampposts or the big blue mailboxes. They are there to relay information which is, presumably, of interest to someone, if not to me. What I can’t stand, however, are the long forgotten, long irrelevant adverts. Case in point: a flyer about garage sale that took place last week, a poster describing an open house two weeks ago, and a giant placard asking me to vote for a such-and-such candidates, months after the election. Doesn’t the Department of Sanitation employ individuals to clean up this mess of expiration? I enter the station, quickly realizing this could be my last opportunity to moonlight as a masked vigilante, keeping Manhattan streets safe from aging signs while the rest of the city sleeps.