Beautiful Nightmares

Dumping the garbage on the way down, I head outside via the open courtyard behind the basement exit. The air on Bennett Ave. is fresh, calm, and strangely serene. For the nth time this week, I run into Ezra F. near my building. Walking slowly, and thinking of the song "Falling Slowly" (simply because it rhymes), I take my time getting to the station.

"Current events, everything that's going on in the world, right here in AM New York." The woman holds out a newspaper and shoves it close to my nose. It's a daily event now.

The train pulls into the station just as I reach the stairs leading down to the platform. From the top, I can see Sara R. though she doesn't see me. Trying to get as close to my spot as possible, I pass Josh and Malka S. I try to say hi, but they don't see me either. When the doors open, I board right behind Kara G.

The door we came through closes, and Kara leans on it, while I lean on the door directly across from her. The advantage of my side is that it will open at the next two stops, but not again before I get off. It's a bit of investment for a better ride.

Kara is wearing an elegant gray coat and has a matching plaid bag slung over her right shoulder. Her gloves are the kind with a flip-over mitt that can expose fingertips, a style that seems to have become very popular in light of text messaging and full keyboard phones.

Nearby I can hear "Sweet Dreams, or a Beautiful Nightmare" playing through someone else's very loud headphones. I wish I was still in bed, getting some dreaming of my own for a little bit longer. I am daydreaming, at least, alerted as such by a beautiful smile from a young woman in who's direction I must have been blindly staring at. Funny thing, to be daydreaming about night-dreaming.

Jam Packed

Right outside my building I see Ezra F.  He says hello and I cross the street, on my way to the subway.  When I reach Overlook, I look back towards 187th and I can see Ruthie W. walking with her husband.

The platform is packed.  Marc R. is here and nods to me; I say hello and continue walking, through a myriad of people, towards my spot.   Passing Kara G. I wave, and she smiles in return.  Jon E. is standing near my spot when I reach it.

An A train comes and goes without stopping.  There are numerous announcements about mechanical delays on the A line as the station continues to fill with impatient passengers.  When another train finally arrives it is already packed with people and I spend the ride squashed between a small man of questionable scent and the very large purse of a woman. 

Viagra Vacation

It’s the third day in row forgoing Starbucks for my own brew, but with less time available this morning (snooze malfunction), I have to take it on the go. The cup is warm in my palms.

Ezra F. is on Bennett Avenue, most likely on his way to synagogue. I walk to the station and on my way down the steps I see Josh S. near the turnstiles. I want to get to my spot so I don’t wait to say hello. On the platform, I pass Zippy K. and then Kara S. She waves.

Sarah M. is also on the platform. I ask her to hold my coffee while I finish typing an email on my Blackberry, and by the time I’m done the train arrives. We board together and speak mostly about the same thing we did last time we took the train together – travel and vacations. She tells me how, on a recent trip to Israel, her plane made an emergency landing in Rome. On the way back, she got stuck in Brussels and made friends with a fellow Washington Heights resident, whom she recognized at the airport. They toured together for several hours, until the trouble at Newark ended and their flight was able to take off. Our conversation ends, just before I get off at 59th street, with a discussion about her profession, pharmaceutical advertising. Though Viagra is one of her firm’s clients, she does not have that account.

Starlight, Starbright

A new set of leaves have fallen to the ground and, outside, it still feels like Fall. Technically, it is Fall, but I recall the days before global warming, when November was full of snow. I'm typing into my Blackberry on Bennett when a woman, pushing a baby carriage, apparates less than two feet in front of me and startles the hell out of me. Embarrassment unavoidable, at least I am able to swerve out of the way in time.

Henry R. is standing on the corner of 186th Street. He seems preoccupied and walks right past me. On Overlook I see Ezra F. who also walks right by me. A few feet behind I notice Sara R. We wave.

Kara S. is on the platform, saying the morning prayers. Being the beginning of the Hebrew month, today's service is a bit longer than usual. I continue walking towards my spot and Adam F. passes me. That make it three days in a row that I run into him. Weird.

At 59th, I see Luba K. and she waves with a giant smile. "Good morning, Ely!" she says as she climbs the stairs. It's nice to see a familiar face so bright this early in the morning.

Shoe Circle

On my way through the turnstiles I see Michael P. walking out. At least I think it’s him. Having not seen him in about a decade it’s difficult to tell, and I also can’t quite imagine what he ‘d be doing in my neighborhood, but I’m pretty certain it was him.

On the platform, I see Kara G. saying her morning prayers and wave. She says hi. I also see the guy from my office building, who lives near me and who’s name I can’t ever remember. Further on down the platform, I see Zehava K. She is afraid to talk to me, and there are no seats left on the bench, so I just wander about. A cute blond in a denim skirt tells her boyfriend he looks “really sharp” (he does), and, pointing to his sneakers, he asks if she likes his new “ten-ees.” When the train pulls in, they kiss goodbye and he walks towards the front.

Zehava is also wearing a denim skirt, although not nearly as short or as tight as the blond. I ask about her sandals, which have a cute flower near the big toe. She bought them in Israel two summers ago and wore them every day. We board the train and agree to zone out – Zehava listens to her iPod and reads the paper, I turn on my Blackberry and fade.

Baby Talk

Walking to the subway, I see Kara G. near the corner of 184th and Overlook. She does not see me, and I continue on inside.

At the platform, I see Malka S. and Shosh P. talking and I join them, surprised to see Shosh on the subway this early. When we board the train there is one empty seat left. Malka says she is getting off soon, and Shosh doesn't want to sit, so I go take it.

The person to the left of the empty seat is large. She is taking up an extraordinary amount of space, holding the morning paper with hers arms wide apart and her legs spread too far. I sit but she is dormant and still - she does not pull herself inward, she does not lean over onto the divider. I try, but am defeated; I cannot squish into this space.

I join Malka and Shosh again, to find the conversation is now focused heavily on baby talk. Crawling and cruising, babysitting and schooling. Malka's son has just started nursery and, while fun at first, he has discovered that it is an ongoing, daily event that he no longer wants to attend. This is the true male species at its best. Offer us something great and we will cherish it forever. Ask us to keep it, and it will be promptly rejected.