A few drinks too many last night, and I am suffering from exhaustion this morning as I leave for work. It’s not that I drank too much, just that I was out too late and didn’t get enough sleep. My legs are having trouble coordinating with each other, which is particularly stressful as the JP Morgan Chase Corporate Challenge is tonight.
For breakfast, I take a package of rice cakes with me and I eat half of it on the way to the subway, wrapping up the other half and throwing it into my backpack alongside sneakers and shorts.
On the platform, I see Malka S. sporting a baby carriage (child inside). As soon as the train arrives, I scout for the most comfortable seat and swiftly enter a deep sleep, all the way to Columbus Circle.
Showing posts with label Malka. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Malka. Show all posts
Thursday, June 17
Friday, June 11
An Early Start
Even without Jetlag, I can sometimes leave the apartment early. I'm excited to get to work on time, not because I love work so much but because the sooner I get there the sooner I'll leave and the sooner my weekend will start.
On 186th I spot Sara K. going into her building. We wave and I continue on, seeing Ezra F. from across the street when I reach Overlook.
A bald cop holds the door open for me at the station. On the platform I run into Josh and Malka S. I'd normally stop and chat with Josh for a while (he is one of my favorite fellow techies and an old time friend) but I don't want to interrupt their conversation.
The train is crowded and I'm standing shoulder to shoulder with a few people, including a pregnant woman of about my height. She is wearing a gray maternity size t-shirt, black pants, and flat shoes. Her fingers are chunky. Some nearby offers their seat to the pregnant woman but she declines.
I switch trains at 59th and get off at Rockefeller. Exiting the station, on my way to get some breakfast, I unexpectedly run into Aliza B. She says hi and asks how I'm doing and we chat for a brief moment before she turns off onto 46th street and I continue on my way.
On 186th I spot Sara K. going into her building. We wave and I continue on, seeing Ezra F. from across the street when I reach Overlook.
A bald cop holds the door open for me at the station. On the platform I run into Josh and Malka S. I'd normally stop and chat with Josh for a while (he is one of my favorite fellow techies and an old time friend) but I don't want to interrupt their conversation.
The train is crowded and I'm standing shoulder to shoulder with a few people, including a pregnant woman of about my height. She is wearing a gray maternity size t-shirt, black pants, and flat shoes. Her fingers are chunky. Some nearby offers their seat to the pregnant woman but she declines.
I switch trains at 59th and get off at Rockefeller. Exiting the station, on my way to get some breakfast, I unexpectedly run into Aliza B. She says hi and asks how I'm doing and we chat for a brief moment before she turns off onto 46th street and I continue on my way.
Friday, April 30
Oil Spill
I head down to the basement with a gallon of canola oil but no clue how to dispose of it. I can’t throw it out, it’s in a plastic jug which needs to be recycled, and I can’t dump the contents into the sink or risk an oily slick forever lining the plumbing. Luckily, Willie is downstairs and tells me just to leave it on the floor, he’ll take care of it.
I leave the basement through the courtyard out back, taking Broadway instead of Bennett. Just outside, I bump into one of my neighbors, who wishes me a good morning. In front of Key Food, I see Anat C. who also wishes me a good morning.
Dunkin’ Donuts makes terrible coffee, and today the line is so long I really wonder why I didn’t just wait to get to midtown for some java. I suppose that after such a long week and such a short night I just need it now.
On 186th Street, at the corner of Bennett, Malka S. is crouching next to one of her children, while two other kids linger behind. The security guard, who works at the nearby elementary school, says to the child, "Ima [Hebrew for mother] will get mad if you go off the sidewalk.”
Aliza texts me about being late for an interview. Do I recommend waiting for the bus or hopping into a cab. I reach the station and run into Sarah F. “Twice in one week,” I say. She smiles and we both board the train.
I leave the basement through the courtyard out back, taking Broadway instead of Bennett. Just outside, I bump into one of my neighbors, who wishes me a good morning. In front of Key Food, I see Anat C. who also wishes me a good morning.
Dunkin’ Donuts makes terrible coffee, and today the line is so long I really wonder why I didn’t just wait to get to midtown for some java. I suppose that after such a long week and such a short night I just need it now.
On 186th Street, at the corner of Bennett, Malka S. is crouching next to one of her children, while two other kids linger behind. The security guard, who works at the nearby elementary school, says to the child, "Ima [Hebrew for mother] will get mad if you go off the sidewalk.”
Aliza texts me about being late for an interview. Do I recommend waiting for the bus or hopping into a cab. I reach the station and run into Sarah F. “Twice in one week,” I say. She smiles and we both board the train.
Thursday, January 14
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.
"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.
Tuesday, January 12
New Playlist
Plan A was to get to work early. I'm four minutes late for Plan B, which is to get to work on time. Outside my apartment, the building reeks of paint, and I'm happy to get outside. The cold air causes my eyes to water, and I can barely make out a neighbor sitting inside a double parked car, engine idling. Across the street, one of the neighborhood Shatnez testers is walking towards down Bennett with a backpack strapped around his shoulders. Is he housecalling?
On 186th, I spot Marc R. in a dark trench coat. Inside the station, the same over-aggressive AM New York woman that was there yesterday is once again trying to pawn papers away on account of the free coupons inside.
I get to the turnstiles and down to the platform, walk to my spot and slip my headphones on. Last night I copied a whole slew of new songs onto the Blackberry. Pink Floyd's "Waiting for the Worms" is the first song to come on.
Yael B. walks by and waves. I see David M. nearby, but I'm not sure if he sees me. I lean back against the wall as Malka S. also passes and waves.
On the train, there are no seats but I get the spot at the end of the car, so I can lean on the door. "Mary's in India" is playing when I feel a knock behind me. Stepping aside, I watch the conductor exit the control booth and walk about eight feet into the car, then ask a teenage boy to give up his seat for an elderly woman. The woman thanks the conductor, but insists she is OK. The boy is relieved. By the time the entire exchange is over I'm on to another song, Pink's "Stupid Girls". The conductor returns to the booth and closes the door behind him.
Walking from Rockefeller to the office, I see someone wearing the same exact coat as Aliza and I think of her. She works afternoons and doesn’t normally get up this early, which makes me jealous. I text her. I’m not entirely evil; she asked me to give her a wakeup call, though technically that would not be for another five minutes.
On 186th, I spot Marc R. in a dark trench coat. Inside the station, the same over-aggressive AM New York woman that was there yesterday is once again trying to pawn papers away on account of the free coupons inside.
I get to the turnstiles and down to the platform, walk to my spot and slip my headphones on. Last night I copied a whole slew of new songs onto the Blackberry. Pink Floyd's "Waiting for the Worms" is the first song to come on.
Yael B. walks by and waves. I see David M. nearby, but I'm not sure if he sees me. I lean back against the wall as Malka S. also passes and waves.
On the train, there are no seats but I get the spot at the end of the car, so I can lean on the door. "Mary's in India" is playing when I feel a knock behind me. Stepping aside, I watch the conductor exit the control booth and walk about eight feet into the car, then ask a teenage boy to give up his seat for an elderly woman. The woman thanks the conductor, but insists she is OK. The boy is relieved. By the time the entire exchange is over I'm on to another song, Pink's "Stupid Girls". The conductor returns to the booth and closes the door behind him.
Walking from Rockefeller to the office, I see someone wearing the same exact coat as Aliza and I think of her. She works afternoons and doesn’t normally get up this early, which makes me jealous. I text her. I’m not entirely evil; she asked me to give her a wakeup call, though technically that would not be for another five minutes.
Friday, January 8
Slippery When Wet
It snowed overnight, and it’s still flurrying when I get downstairs, small snowflakes landing on my glasses. The ground is slippery, and on 186th street a little girl is pretending to skate on the ice while holding her father’s hands. He tells her that on the weekend he’ll take her skating in a real rink.
I see Jon E. up ahead at the corner of 186th and Overlook, along with Tall Jewish Girl, who I see all the time. I reach the station and run into Malka S. at the entrance. As I enter, she is on her way out, and wishes me a good morning.
Miriam C. is on the platform, just at the bottom of the stairs. I almost don’t recognize her all hooded up in her navy coat. We chat for a while, until I hear the train coming and make for my usual spot.
I see Jon E. up ahead at the corner of 186th and Overlook, along with Tall Jewish Girl, who I see all the time. I reach the station and run into Malka S. at the entrance. As I enter, she is on her way out, and wishes me a good morning.
Miriam C. is on the platform, just at the bottom of the stairs. I almost don’t recognize her all hooded up in her navy coat. We chat for a while, until I hear the train coming and make for my usual spot.
Tuesday, December 15
Never On Time
I am not surprised to find that today is one of those days, again. Why can't I get it together and get to work on time? Not that I don't put my hours in, but when my coworkers leave at 5 and I've got another two hours to go, it always leaves me feeling a little lumpy inside.
On the subway platform I run into Malka S. I stop to say hello and we exchange pleasantries, then I head to my spot. The train arrives and I board next to an extraordinarily tall woman. Not just tall by Jewish standards (Jewish woman are not known for their height) but by almost all accounts. She reminds me of the Netherlands, where the average female height is 3" taller than in the U.S.
A loud, high pitched laughter coming from the other side of the car fills the air. I look over and see it is coming from a large group of female youngsters. As I shift about, the man next to me begins to mutter in Italian, and continues muttering every time I move or even breath too deeply. He is tall and balding, and dressed preppy in brown woolen slacks and a brown corduroy coat, slung over a blue button down oxford. Penny loafers finish the look, but I am hardly impressed.
On the subway platform I run into Malka S. I stop to say hello and we exchange pleasantries, then I head to my spot. The train arrives and I board next to an extraordinarily tall woman. Not just tall by Jewish standards (Jewish woman are not known for their height) but by almost all accounts. She reminds me of the Netherlands, where the average female height is 3" taller than in the U.S.
A loud, high pitched laughter coming from the other side of the car fills the air. I look over and see it is coming from a large group of female youngsters. As I shift about, the man next to me begins to mutter in Italian, and continues muttering every time I move or even breath too deeply. He is tall and balding, and dressed preppy in brown woolen slacks and a brown corduroy coat, slung over a blue button down oxford. Penny loafers finish the look, but I am hardly impressed.
Wednesday, September 16
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.
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.
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