I head downstairs and on Bennett Avenue I see Shifra A. getting out of her black SUV. She is wearing a gray overcoat and stomping across the street in high decibel heels. She asks “what's up?” as I wave. Up ahead at the corner I see Sarah F.
At the station, I can hear the train approaching but continue my calm pace as others run towards it. I don’t reach it in time, but none of them do either. At the bottom of steps I see Doron S. with his little boy.
Isaac D. is also on the platform, fishing through his knapsack. He doesn't see me as I walk by towards my spot. When I get there, I find Yael B. right next to me and she says hello.
There is a soft saxophone playing at the far end of the platform. It is pleasant, but muffles an announcement about an approaching downtown train which was already difficult to hear.
Showing posts with label Yael. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yael. Show all posts
Friday, March 5
Monday, March 1
Myriad of People, Myriad of Thoughts
The problem with a loose shoelace is that once you untie and re-tie, you must do it again to the other shoe even if the other show was perfectly fine to begin with. The urge is simply uncontrollable, and it's exactly what I do, propping my foot up on a stoop at the corner of 186th and Overlook.
I run into Yael B. in the tunnel that leads to the station and say hello. She waves briefly as she passes me. I also see Harriet T. near the metrocard machines. "Don't you go writing about me in your blog!" she hollers after me, smiling, as I enter the turnstiles.
The platform is crowded and I pass a myriad of faces belonging to people that are familiar (mostly from synagogue) but whom I don't actually know. I let one of them, a pale skinned girl with dark hair and features, get ahead of me into the train.
At 59th, the D Train arrives quickly, giving me plenty of time to pick up breakfast before work; I even get a seat. As I sit down for the short ride, I start to look forward to what will hopefully be a great new week.
I run into Yael B. in the tunnel that leads to the station and say hello. She waves briefly as she passes me. I also see Harriet T. near the metrocard machines. "Don't you go writing about me in your blog!" she hollers after me, smiling, as I enter the turnstiles.
The platform is crowded and I pass a myriad of faces belonging to people that are familiar (mostly from synagogue) but whom I don't actually know. I let one of them, a pale skinned girl with dark hair and features, get ahead of me into the train.
At 59th, the D Train arrives quickly, giving me plenty of time to pick up breakfast before work; I even get a seat. As I sit down for the short ride, I start to look forward to what will hopefully be a great new week.
Tuesday, February 2
Changing Everything
Although I might still make it to work on time, I haven’t left my apartment this late since my return from Israel. On Overlook, I run into Yael B. and wave, and further ahead I can see Yaakov L. entering the station.
The AM New York Lady is at the entrance, proclaiming that “they” are “changing everything.” She is howling about hospitals and the educational system. I seldom watch the news and rarely read the paper (if it’s important enough I will eventually hear about it) so I have no idea what she might be referring to. If I wanted to know, she tells me, I can read all about it in AM New York. I may not be able to stand this woman’s daily raves, but her perseverance is inspiring all the same.
While waiting for the train to arrive, Ari R. sits next to me on one of the benches. He is working towards and a degree in acupuncture and herbal medicine, and today is studying for a test in the configuration of the ear. This is his second advanced degree; I’m glad to be out of school, although work can be dauntingly overwhelming more often than not. This week is no exception, and I’m rushing to get to the office. The sooner I arrive, the sooner I can leave.
The AM New York Lady is at the entrance, proclaiming that “they” are “changing everything.” She is howling about hospitals and the educational system. I seldom watch the news and rarely read the paper (if it’s important enough I will eventually hear about it) so I have no idea what she might be referring to. If I wanted to know, she tells me, I can read all about it in AM New York. I may not be able to stand this woman’s daily raves, but her perseverance is inspiring all the same.
While waiting for the train to arrive, Ari R. sits next to me on one of the benches. He is working towards and a degree in acupuncture and herbal medicine, and today is studying for a test in the configuration of the ear. This is his second advanced degree; I’m glad to be out of school, although work can be dauntingly overwhelming more often than not. This week is no exception, and I’m rushing to get to the office. The sooner I arrive, the sooner I can leave.
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, November 13
Wind and Talk
Bill Evans, the Channel 7 meteorologist, said this morning that winds will be gusting to 50 miles an hour. For a bald guy that wears a yamika, this can spell trouble, but downstairs the air seems calm enough.
On the way to the train I pass a dollar bill on the floor but my uncaffeinated reflexes don't realize what it is until I am long past it. Even if I'd noticed in time, I'm not sure I would have picked it up. As a child, I had a joke bill that when folded on the ground looks exactly like U.S. $50, but once picked it up said something to the effect of "jokes on you."
I see Aliza B. walking towards the station as I'm walking inside. I've known since yesterday I'd see her. That's because I saw Aliza yesterday morning, and by some weird destine fate I never see her less than twice in a row.
On the platform, I pass Yael B. as she sips coffee from a blue thermos. She doesn't seem to notice me as I walk by. I also run into Sarah F. and her husband Adam F. They both say hello and walk past me.
Ilana Cowen walks past me too and I say hi. She stops to talk and we get on the train together. Her Mac is in disrepair, and when she asks if I can fix it I tell her that is not my area of expertise. She also tells me about an 1199 rally she attended in Albany yesterday. It’s clear that, this early in the morning, I am too tired to function, let alone carry on a proper conversation, so it’s not surprising when she tells me I ought to be taking a nap.
Leaning against the subway doors, I rest my head on the glass. Ilana somehow enters into conversation with a total stranger, a girl in a long charcoal overcoat and a big blue backpack strapped all about her. It’s hard to hear exactly what they're saying, but I think they are talking about "Night Pleasures," the book the girl is reading. The train has gotten crowded, elbows seem to be protruding everywhere, so I let my eyelids rest until 59th street. Just one more day to get through before the weekend.
On the way to the train I pass a dollar bill on the floor but my uncaffeinated reflexes don't realize what it is until I am long past it. Even if I'd noticed in time, I'm not sure I would have picked it up. As a child, I had a joke bill that when folded on the ground looks exactly like U.S. $50, but once picked it up said something to the effect of "jokes on you."
I see Aliza B. walking towards the station as I'm walking inside. I've known since yesterday I'd see her. That's because I saw Aliza yesterday morning, and by some weird destine fate I never see her less than twice in a row.
On the platform, I pass Yael B. as she sips coffee from a blue thermos. She doesn't seem to notice me as I walk by. I also run into Sarah F. and her husband Adam F. They both say hello and walk past me.
Ilana Cowen walks past me too and I say hi. She stops to talk and we get on the train together. Her Mac is in disrepair, and when she asks if I can fix it I tell her that is not my area of expertise. She also tells me about an 1199 rally she attended in Albany yesterday. It’s clear that, this early in the morning, I am too tired to function, let alone carry on a proper conversation, so it’s not surprising when she tells me I ought to be taking a nap.
Leaning against the subway doors, I rest my head on the glass. Ilana somehow enters into conversation with a total stranger, a girl in a long charcoal overcoat and a big blue backpack strapped all about her. It’s hard to hear exactly what they're saying, but I think they are talking about "Night Pleasures," the book the girl is reading. The train has gotten crowded, elbows seem to be protruding everywhere, so I let my eyelids rest until 59th street. Just one more day to get through before the weekend.
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