Is it Done?

Having taken care of a few random items, I am super late by the time I leave for work. On Overlook, I hear loud footsteps. Turning around, I’m surprised to see it’s Sara S. and even more surprised that I can hear her from a full block away. I wait for her to catch up and she tells me that she was up late watching skating championships.

Sara and I walk into the station together, passing Marc R. at the foot of stairs which lead down to the platform. Yaffa J. comes over and we all talk about lateness. When the train arrives, Yaffa walks towards her spot, while Sara and I ride together. We talk about various work projects, and I tell her how it has become common at my office to ask whether a project is done or “done d'done d'done done," meaning all the loose ends have been tied. It takes some effort, but I try not to think of all my loose ends, just days before heading out on vacation.

Constitutional

The clock keeps ticking as I wait for Willie to come upstairs and get my key, so he can fix my leaky faucet later in the day.  At 8:15, I call him and it turns out he had an emergency to deal with.  He apologizes and sends Antonio to fetch the key.

While walking to the subway, I send emails to a few friends who are coming with me to a taping of the Daily Show later tonight. I won four VIP tickets at a Mount Sinai Panoply and want to arrange where we’ll be meeting.

Inside the station, Newspaper Guy says hello.  Marc R. is at the foot of the stairs and also says hi.  He asks if he’ll be mentioned in my blog and we briefly discuss the new draft of the Mount Sinai constitution.  Marc led a campaign against the first draft, which failed to be voted in by the synagogue membership.  He tells me that not all his issues have been addressed in the latest revision, but the most important ones were and feels comfortable with it.

I start walking towards my spot and pass Zippy K. sitting on bench while listening to music and sipping coffee from a Dixie cup.  She waves hello.  Sara R. is also nearby and says hi. Today, her hair is wavy. I wonder what is she doing in the middle of the platform; she is always near the stairs. 

David M. waves as I pass him and the train arrives just as I get to my spot.

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. 

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.

I Hate Monday

There are few things more hated than Monday mornings. As I head out to the laundromat, I notice that there has been yet another increase in the amount of dog poo left on the sidewalks.

I pass Mt. Sinai and see people chatting outside, among them Marc R. Services must have just ended. On the way back, after dropping off the laundry, I see Adina L. and her husband Yaki R. on the corner, near Key Food. Heading towards the train station and passing my own building, I run into some of my neighbors who are schmoozing among themselves. I see Ezra F. across the street.

On Overlook, I see David H. go into the station ahead of me. A few seconds later I walk in to find the station smelling a strange mix of urine and lemon scented cleaning solution.

I am late to work and wondering if, as is usual at this hour, I'll run into Adina S. I turn around and, eerily, she is right behind me. "You're late" she admonishes. Yehuda B. passes us on the platform and waves hello. Adina and I take the train together, talking about the recent array of Chanukah parties in the neighborhood, and I tell her all about a very drunken Rock Band after-party at my place on Saturday night. She does not sound sorry to have missed it.

The Heat Is On

I’m not quite running late today, but considering how many hours I’ve already been awake I really should have left a long time ago. Jetlag, with a little bit of extra insomnia and the achy cold I picked up overseas make for a bad recipe and so I’m not particularly in the mood to get to work anytime soon. On the street, I start to flip through the songs on my blackberry and fail to notice the piece of scaffolding on the ground until I trip over it. Ezra F. is walking across the street.

I reach Overlook Terrace and I see the A Station Homeless Guy pushing his cart up the block towards me. His new girlfriend is still with him, she is clinging to his side. She has a stern look about her but he seems happier than I’ve ever seen him before. Closer up I can’t help but notice how much younger she is than him, and I think she must view him as a sort of protector in her unsheltered world.

I reach the turnstiles and get the infamous “insufficient fare.” It’s so hot and humid in the station that by the time I’ve purchased a new card I am sweating. Down at the platform the heat is worse and I slowly feel the antiperspirant start to give way. I am glad I use Dial.

Meyer B. is at the platform and starts speaking to me but I can’t hear him because my music is playing too loudly. I fumble to pull the headphones out of my ears and am able to piece to together that he has told me about four uptown trains that have passed and that a downtown train must be on the way soon. I have no idea why I find this funny but I start to chuckle and keep walking towards my spot. It’s so hot that I can’t stand still, and I start to pace even though I know it will actually make me hotter. I run into Marc R. and we wave to each other. Further on the platform I can see Yael B. talking to Simone G.

Nomi G. spots me and walks over. We start to chat about Chicago, weekend plans, holiday plans, and many other various topics. The train arrives and we board together and continue the conversation, but it’s so crowded that we keep bumping into each other. My left arm is sandwiched between my body and the door.

We are somewhere between 145^th and 125^th when the shot of Dayquil I took finally starts to kick in. At 59^th, I say goodbye to Nomi and as I walk off the train she asks for the link to my blog.

On 48^th street I spot Lovey E. and catch up to her. She works across the street from me and we try to get lunch together once a month or so but our schedules are such that I haven’t actually seen her in a really long time. I am surprised, and somewhat jealous, that she is wearing a t-shirt and when I ask about it, she tells me that she sometimes walks to work. She likes to wear comfortable clothes and then change when she gets there. I walk with her the rest of the way to her office and cut thru her lobby to get to my own building. There is nothing quite like that cool, crisp air conditioning as it strikes against me.