Judy R. gets into the elevator on the second floor with her two children (double stroller). She tells them I'm very friendly with their uncle Ari and they should say hi, which they do. I say hi back and give a friendly wave just before getting out on the lobby floor. I'm in the wrong lobby. It's 9:04 A.M. and I thought I'd be walking into my office building by now, but it appears I'm still at home.
On 186th, an Orthodox Jewish girl pulls her skirt down a bit lower. She keeps doing this till we reach the train station, or at least until I lose her at the turnstiles.
In an effort to avoid anyone I know and finish reading an article on the Borukhova case, I use the catwalks above the tracks to reach my spot. Looking down below I spot Suri G. and wonder what she's doing here, since she lives further downtown. Mental note: get the gossip.
On the train I grab a seat next to Ronnie S. who is so engrossed in his phone that he barely acknowledges me, even when I say hello. I'm not easily offended though, and by the time he puts his phone away and takes out a Sefer, I've already forgotten and opened my New Yorker.
Showing posts with label Judy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Judy. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 9
Thursday, March 18
Phony Love
The lobby smells like toast, which doesn't make life better for those who have left home without breakfast. I hold the front door open for a neighbor who takes too long to reach it, then step out into gorgeous fresh air. Judy R. is walking her child down Bennett Avenue, which is drenched in a sunlight that hasn't been seen since September.
There is a cute girl outside the station, talking on her cellphone. I've seen her on the train many times before, often with her boyfriend and often arguing with him. "I don't need to make a lot of money," she says, "but it should be about work and effort."
Yonatan K. is sitting on the benches just behind the turnstiles. He doesn't notice me as I walk by and stroll down the stairs to the subway platform.
On the train, I sit next to a couple. The man, in gray suit and lavender tie, is glued to his iPhone. He has an oblong head and a short reddish beard, and his wife, who appears the older of the two, reminds me a of my first college girlfriend. I double-take to make sure it isn't actually her, and the man takes notice. She doesn't; she closes her eyes just as his return to his precious phone.
There is a cute girl outside the station, talking on her cellphone. I've seen her on the train many times before, often with her boyfriend and often arguing with him. "I don't need to make a lot of money," she says, "but it should be about work and effort."
Yonatan K. is sitting on the benches just behind the turnstiles. He doesn't notice me as I walk by and stroll down the stairs to the subway platform.
On the train, I sit next to a couple. The man, in gray suit and lavender tie, is glued to his iPhone. He has an oblong head and a short reddish beard, and his wife, who appears the older of the two, reminds me a of my first college girlfriend. I double-take to make sure it isn't actually her, and the man takes notice. She doesn't; she closes her eyes just as his return to his precious phone.
Thursday, March 11
Memory Lane
With a significant amount of garbage to get rid of, I head down to the basement and see Antonio when I get there. I make the drop and as I get back into the elevator in run into Judy R. She tries, almost unsuccessfully, to squeeze a double wide stroller out through its doors.
On 186th street, I see the wife of a local Rabbi who has randomly friended me on Facebook. We don’t say hello as I pass her.
I drop my tax return in the mail at the corner and make it the rest of the way to the platform and on to the next train. It’s pretty late and the subway is hardly crowded. A blonde woman next to me is working on a crossword puzzle clipped from the paper, leaning on a textbook about corporate finance. On the opposite side a father is reading his daughter a book "face to face with cheetahs" and they discuss the amazing eyes of the cheetah. This thought - a discussion of feline eyes - brings back memories of someone I used to know a long time ago.
On 186th street, I see the wife of a local Rabbi who has randomly friended me on Facebook. We don’t say hello as I pass her.
I drop my tax return in the mail at the corner and make it the rest of the way to the platform and on to the next train. It’s pretty late and the subway is hardly crowded. A blonde woman next to me is working on a crossword puzzle clipped from the paper, leaning on a textbook about corporate finance. On the opposite side a father is reading his daughter a book "face to face with cheetahs" and they discuss the amazing eyes of the cheetah. This thought - a discussion of feline eyes - brings back memories of someone I used to know a long time ago.
Wednesday, December 9
Kix and Drinks
The only thing I hate carrying more than a bag is an umbrella. Sure, it keeps its bearer dry, but it’s so awkward to carry around in crowded subway car. Even someone lucky enough to get a seat has nowhere comfortable to store it during the ride. On the few occasions, like today, where the rain is so fierce that I must take one, I usually end of leaving them at work for want of not carrying them back.
In fact, I have only one umbrella left at home – a medium size semi automatic with a hooked handle. Right outside my building, fidgeting to get it open, I see Judy R. walk by, pushing one child in a stroller and her eldest lagging a few feet behind. He is proudly holding up a colorful brolly of his very own.
The rain is really pouring down, making me grateful for the three scaffolds along the way: 115 Bennett, 110 Bennett, and finally the one right outside the train station. I stop underneath the last one to undo my umbrella and Emily T. is there, talking on her cell phone. “I love you,” she says, and heads inside.
On the platform I see Emily again, as well as David M. who passes me and wishes me a good morning. Next to me on the bench is an Orthodox Jewish woman with a light blue bandana covering her hair. She is eating what looks like Kix and milk, out of a plastic cup. The train doesn’t come for a long time, and the platform starts to crowd. An announcement about the next train being out of service turns out to be incorrect, however, and I board alongside a cute girl who’s name I don’t know but that’s been written about in my blog before.
At 175th, an elderly woman with dyed hair and thick glasses get on the train. She stands next to me and, being the quintessential “grumpy old woman”, starts muttering and cursing when the train doesn’t immediately move. The conductor announces for someone at the font to stop holding the doors open, and the woman increases her rants. Although comic and somewhat enjoyable, I put my headphones on to ignore. That is when she smiles at me, the sweetest old-woman smile possible. In an instant she has become the angelic grandmother, and I am sad to see her get off just one stop later.
A scruffy middle aged man takes her spot next to me. He is well dressed, business casual, but his eyes are terribly bloodshot and his breath wreaks so powerfully of alcohol that one might imagine he’s come straight from the bar without ever stopping at home last night. He is reading Metro NY while strangely licking his lips, and once or twice he coughs violently enough that I think he might throw up on me. I turn up the volume on my music and push my body into the wall behind me – as far away from the drunkard as it can go.
In fact, I have only one umbrella left at home – a medium size semi automatic with a hooked handle. Right outside my building, fidgeting to get it open, I see Judy R. walk by, pushing one child in a stroller and her eldest lagging a few feet behind. He is proudly holding up a colorful brolly of his very own.
The rain is really pouring down, making me grateful for the three scaffolds along the way: 115 Bennett, 110 Bennett, and finally the one right outside the train station. I stop underneath the last one to undo my umbrella and Emily T. is there, talking on her cell phone. “I love you,” she says, and heads inside.
On the platform I see Emily again, as well as David M. who passes me and wishes me a good morning. Next to me on the bench is an Orthodox Jewish woman with a light blue bandana covering her hair. She is eating what looks like Kix and milk, out of a plastic cup. The train doesn’t come for a long time, and the platform starts to crowd. An announcement about the next train being out of service turns out to be incorrect, however, and I board alongside a cute girl who’s name I don’t know but that’s been written about in my blog before.
At 175th, an elderly woman with dyed hair and thick glasses get on the train. She stands next to me and, being the quintessential “grumpy old woman”, starts muttering and cursing when the train doesn’t immediately move. The conductor announces for someone at the font to stop holding the doors open, and the woman increases her rants. Although comic and somewhat enjoyable, I put my headphones on to ignore. That is when she smiles at me, the sweetest old-woman smile possible. In an instant she has become the angelic grandmother, and I am sad to see her get off just one stop later.
A scruffy middle aged man takes her spot next to me. He is well dressed, business casual, but his eyes are terribly bloodshot and his breath wreaks so powerfully of alcohol that one might imagine he’s come straight from the bar without ever stopping at home last night. He is reading Metro NY while strangely licking his lips, and once or twice he coughs violently enough that I think he might throw up on me. I turn up the volume on my music and push my body into the wall behind me – as far away from the drunkard as it can go.
Monday, September 21
Old Friends
It's the first day of the week and, in fact, the first workday of the new (Jewish) year and I'm off to a bad start already. I should have been to work at least 10 minutes ago and I'm just now heading out to the subway.
Anat F. and Judy R. are out in front of my building, talking. Judy is very animated about something, and her son seems restless in his stroller.
At the corner of 186th and Overlook I run into Esther B. She is wearing a plaid shirt with a purple sweater over it, a denim skirt, and sneakers labeled "Star" on the lip. She is talking on the phone and after a minute or two apologizes that she is still on. I type away on my Blackberry as I wait and when she realizes I am blogging about her, she yells and runs away.
Further on Overlook, I run into Alice, an elderly woman that many can recognize from the local synagogue. She asks where I'm headed and since today is a Jewish fast day, she is surprised to learn that I am on my way to work. She bids me a good day and warns me to be careful lest I get faint on the job.
At 59th street I run into Yaffa Z. who is now Yaffa M. We used to be good friends and occasionally played racquetball together, but I haven't seen her in a couple of years. We do a quick catch up as we get onto the B train, and she gets off one stop later. I stay one till Rockefeller, already feeling the caffeine withdrawal.
Anat F. and Judy R. are out in front of my building, talking. Judy is very animated about something, and her son seems restless in his stroller.
At the corner of 186th and Overlook I run into Esther B. She is wearing a plaid shirt with a purple sweater over it, a denim skirt, and sneakers labeled "Star" on the lip. She is talking on the phone and after a minute or two apologizes that she is still on. I type away on my Blackberry as I wait and when she realizes I am blogging about her, she yells and runs away.
Further on Overlook, I run into Alice, an elderly woman that many can recognize from the local synagogue. She asks where I'm headed and since today is a Jewish fast day, she is surprised to learn that I am on my way to work. She bids me a good day and warns me to be careful lest I get faint on the job.
At 59th street I run into Yaffa Z. who is now Yaffa M. We used to be good friends and occasionally played racquetball together, but I haven't seen her in a couple of years. We do a quick catch up as we get onto the B train, and she gets off one stop later. I stay one till Rockefeller, already feeling the caffeine withdrawal.
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