I love jetlag. I’ve been up since 2:30 AM but I’m finally leaving for work on time. On the way to drop off some laundry I see Eric B. as he exits from synagogue. On the way back, I pass David H. and he says hello as I walk by. Simone G. is in the distance too, but she is too far to see me.
I stop at Dunkin’ Donuts for a medium coffee with lots of milk, then make my way through a sudden misty drizzle to the train station. On Overlook I see Jon E. and then run into him again on the platform. He says hello and I ask what paper he’s reading. It’s AM New York. He uses it as a metric for train speed; if he is done with it by 59th street he knows the train has been moving slow.
Taking a seat on a bench, I notice the woman next to me is using a Nook. Even in New York City, striking up a conversation with a stranger can take a bit of balls, but I do it anyway and ask about the device. She tells me she loves it, that it is the best purchase she has ever made. Her father bought the Kindle and hates it, though the Kindle comes with more freebies and promos.
The screen, when I glance down at it, seems incredibly sharp. She says it’s easy on the eyes, and that new downloads take only a few seconds. I ask her about the “feel” of a book and she tells me that is one thing she does miss. Interestingly, she will still buy the print edition of a book, just to keep on her shelf, even after she has read it on the Nook. I mention that I do the same for music and movies that I have downloaded. The train arrives and I thank her just before boarding and finding a seat.
Monday, May 24
Tuesday, May 11
Drill Bit
For most people, there is nothing ordinary about a morning that includes a trip to the dentist but for me it's just a quick stop on the way to work. A little injection here, a little prodding there - no biggie.
The train arrives just as I reach the platform. Ezra B. is standing right behind me, and says hello when I see him. Also in the car is Jenny R. She smiles, and waves from the distance. Down to the left I notice Rebecca W. She introduced herself to me at a party this weekend (little of which I can still recall) but has yet to accept my Facebook friend request (there can be no greater insult).
I get out at 59th and notice Ezra behind me again, this time talking with a blond neighborhood girl. They walk towards Columbus Circle and I duck into Central Park, where I can watch Srugim on my phone and kill 15 minutes till my appointment.
The train arrives just as I reach the platform. Ezra B. is standing right behind me, and says hello when I see him. Also in the car is Jenny R. She smiles, and waves from the distance. Down to the left I notice Rebecca W. She introduced herself to me at a party this weekend (little of which I can still recall) but has yet to accept my Facebook friend request (there can be no greater insult).
I get out at 59th and notice Ezra behind me again, this time talking with a blond neighborhood girl. They walk towards Columbus Circle and I duck into Central Park, where I can watch Srugim on my phone and kill 15 minutes till my appointment.
Monday, May 10
Self Centered
The elevator doors slide open at the lobby and three women, one pushing a baby carriage, walk in. Not for a moment does it occur to them that the lone passenger already on the elevator - in this case me - might want to get out first. The ensuing result is a 25 second delay replete with backtracking, bumping, and odd maneuvering.
It's damn cold outside. This May may be the coldest month of May in my Manhattan life. I am greeted outside the train station by the AM New York Guy, who's paper I politely decline. Opera Chick is on the platform and though her sounds are strikingly beautiful at first, her singing becomes quite the frustration after just a few minutes.
On the A, I sit across from three chatty Hispanic women, all drinking cheap coffee from the same deli. The youngest is sitting on the left, sporting a slim figure, a tiny button nose, and curly hair. All the way on the right is the oldest, with dark hair that is gray at the roots. She is reading a card, and starts to suddenly laugh out loud. From the left, Youngest leans over Middle and says to Oldest that she wanted to buy one of those big giant cards but couldn't find one. "Oh yea!" pipes in Middle. "I got one of those once and I loved it. I kept it, still have it." Two stops Youngest, gets up to leave and is instructed by Oldest, who can easily be her mother to "text me all the details!". The two remaining women talk about babies the rest of the ride.
It's damn cold outside. This May may be the coldest month of May in my Manhattan life. I am greeted outside the train station by the AM New York Guy, who's paper I politely decline. Opera Chick is on the platform and though her sounds are strikingly beautiful at first, her singing becomes quite the frustration after just a few minutes.
On the A, I sit across from three chatty Hispanic women, all drinking cheap coffee from the same deli. The youngest is sitting on the left, sporting a slim figure, a tiny button nose, and curly hair. All the way on the right is the oldest, with dark hair that is gray at the roots. She is reading a card, and starts to suddenly laugh out loud. From the left, Youngest leans over Middle and says to Oldest that she wanted to buy one of those big giant cards but couldn't find one. "Oh yea!" pipes in Middle. "I got one of those once and I loved it. I kept it, still have it." Two stops Youngest, gets up to leave and is instructed by Oldest, who can easily be her mother to "text me all the details!". The two remaining women talk about babies the rest of the ride.
Friday, May 7
Aaayyyyyy
At the station, we spot Sarah M. all the way at the other end of the car. I’ve been helping Aliza get started with her new blog and we discuss it for much of the ride, along with random other gossip and talk. Aliza doesn’t notice that the women sitting next to her is smiling at me and laughing at all my jokes.
At 59th Street, Aliza and I split up. I take the next train to Rockefeller, and get off at my usual exit on 48th. Halfway down the block, I see Henry Winkler. He is sharply dressed and clean cut, though obviously looks much older than I remember him. He seems such a sweet man, taking pictures with all who ask and chatting with them at length. Sadly, he is practically inside his car by the time I get my own camera out.
Wednesday, May 5
Brown and Out
We all have those days, when we leave home feeling slightly substandard. Usually it's about the way we look, or at least, that's how it emanates. I have a friend (male) who can go through 15-20 (no exaggeration) different outfits before settling on what to wear. I can relate - I've done the same at times - but before work that's never an option. On weekday mornings I give myself half a minute, a full one at most, to choose my clothes. And today my very brown choice feels crappy.
In the station, walking through the tunnel, I see Michael Z. and his daughter. I do not believe - though it's just a hunch - that he is still a practicing Orthodox Jew, yet his daughter is dressed so incredibly yeshivish.
On the platform, I wait patiently for the next train. I'm over the clothing bit, and one thought permeates my mind: if you're wearing dark sunglasses but staring, do people know you're looking at them?
At 59th, I run into Eido J. He says hello and shakes my hand as he hurries by. After a short ride on the B train I exit at 48th, where I am greeted by a band of Cinco de Mayo applauders in traditional charro suits and sombreros. I notice an unusually strong police presence too, and one officer sends me across the street, past two mounties and slew of other cops. It turns out that Barbara Bush is in NBC studios.
Just before crossing Park Avenue, I hear someone calling my name from behind. It's Lovey E. in jogging clothes, sneakers, and her trademark giant backpack. She walks to work and dresses sporty for the occasion, changing into something more business-appropriate when she gets to the office. We chat and catch up for a bit, and agree to meet up for lunch sometime soon.
In the station, walking through the tunnel, I see Michael Z. and his daughter. I do not believe - though it's just a hunch - that he is still a practicing Orthodox Jew, yet his daughter is dressed so incredibly yeshivish.
On the platform, I wait patiently for the next train. I'm over the clothing bit, and one thought permeates my mind: if you're wearing dark sunglasses but staring, do people know you're looking at them?
At 59th, I run into Eido J. He says hello and shakes my hand as he hurries by. After a short ride on the B train I exit at 48th, where I am greeted by a band of Cinco de Mayo applauders in traditional charro suits and sombreros. I notice an unusually strong police presence too, and one officer sends me across the street, past two mounties and slew of other cops. It turns out that Barbara Bush is in NBC studios.
Just before crossing Park Avenue, I hear someone calling my name from behind. It's Lovey E. in jogging clothes, sneakers, and her trademark giant backpack. She walks to work and dresses sporty for the occasion, changing into something more business-appropriate when she gets to the office. We chat and catch up for a bit, and agree to meet up for lunch sometime soon.
Tuesday, May 4
Treats
Eliana, my cleaning lady, rings my buzzer at 8:02 AM and by the time I leave the apartment at 8:10 she is well into the bathroom agenda. Nechama B. walks past my building just as I get outside and says hello. It's a rare treat since I hardly ever see her. At about the same time, Mo H. walks into the lobby.
On 186th, I run into Michelle Z. - another rare treat. She's moving out of the hood, and I'm sad to see her go even if I know she'll be happier downtown. We chat for ten minutes, about apartment hunting, packing, and selling things on Craigslist. I recommend she post on Maalot.
Ezra F. walks by while Michelle and I are talking. She offers me a ride to work but after some debate I stick to the subway and we hurry off in separate directions. On Overlook, Esther D. pushes a baby carriage across the street. I see Dr. T. heading towards the subway, probably to take the shuttle van servicing nearby Yeshiva University.
On the platform I pass Zippy K. and say hello. She smiles and waves. I love smiles - they make people happy - and I think people should smile all the time.
On 186th, I run into Michelle Z. - another rare treat. She's moving out of the hood, and I'm sad to see her go even if I know she'll be happier downtown. We chat for ten minutes, about apartment hunting, packing, and selling things on Craigslist. I recommend she post on Maalot.
Ezra F. walks by while Michelle and I are talking. She offers me a ride to work but after some debate I stick to the subway and we hurry off in separate directions. On Overlook, Esther D. pushes a baby carriage across the street. I see Dr. T. heading towards the subway, probably to take the shuttle van servicing nearby Yeshiva University.
On the platform I pass Zippy K. and say hello. She smiles and waves. I love smiles - they make people happy - and I think people should smile all the time.
Monday, May 3
My Umbrella
Today is not the day to realize that all of my umbrellas are in the desk drawer at work. The rain is coming down hard, the really is no choice; I don the most waterproof jacket I own and pray.
Shaindle S. comes out of her apartment while I'm waiting for the elevator. "Don't forget your umbrella!" she says. I tell her my plight and she apologizes for not having an extra one to loan me. She also tells me how her children try to use the rain (unsuccessfully) as an excuse for skipping school.
I go to drop some clothes at the cleaners and by the time I get there I am drenched. Pretty soon it will seep to my undies, so I stop at BP for an umbrella. Tova P. is at the Dunkin' Donuts counter inside but she doesn't see me. Not spotting any umbrellas, I ask the clerk behind the counter if they have any. He pulls one out from underneath a nearby shelf and rings it up. $4.98.
I walk the rest of the way to the train station and run into Evan R. in the tunnel. We wave and I head through the turnstiles and down to the platform. Nechama W. is sitting on one of the benches and says hello. I haven't seen her in a while and it takes a moment to recognize her with a hat on.
On the train, I grab one of the last seats, in a drab, dark corner of the car. Everything is fine till 145th, where the conductor announces that the train ahead has deployed it's emergency brakes and is blocking the track. The one day I might have made it to work before 9:00 and I am plagued with delays. I guess that's karma.
Shaindle S. comes out of her apartment while I'm waiting for the elevator. "Don't forget your umbrella!" she says. I tell her my plight and she apologizes for not having an extra one to loan me. She also tells me how her children try to use the rain (unsuccessfully) as an excuse for skipping school.
I go to drop some clothes at the cleaners and by the time I get there I am drenched. Pretty soon it will seep to my undies, so I stop at BP for an umbrella. Tova P. is at the Dunkin' Donuts counter inside but she doesn't see me. Not spotting any umbrellas, I ask the clerk behind the counter if they have any. He pulls one out from underneath a nearby shelf and rings it up. $4.98.
I walk the rest of the way to the train station and run into Evan R. in the tunnel. We wave and I head through the turnstiles and down to the platform. Nechama W. is sitting on one of the benches and says hello. I haven't seen her in a while and it takes a moment to recognize her with a hat on.
On the train, I grab one of the last seats, in a drab, dark corner of the car. Everything is fine till 145th, where the conductor announces that the train ahead has deployed it's emergency brakes and is blocking the track. The one day I might have made it to work before 9:00 and I am plagued with delays. I guess that's karma.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)