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.
Friday, June 11
Thursday, June 10
Part of the Club
It's always a bit strange to walk out into your hallway and be greeted by a giant, albeit old, washing machine. I'm not sure what it's doing there, but it's there. In the elevator I run into one of my neighbors and we briefly discuss BP stock prices, and right outside the building I see Mo H.
On the platform, a short woman in loose black pants is reading the New Yorker. I've been reading it religiously for over a decade, often while riding the subway, and I think it’s probably the best magazine this side of the Mississippi (and the other). The thing about the New Yorker is that when you subscribe, you don't just get a new magazine. You become part of the club. This can have a profound effect of arrogance, and when you see someone else reading it, there is wide slew of emotions that emanates.
On the one hand one enjoys being part of any group, especially one that feels so exclusive. On the other hand, we all like to believe we are the only ones with the intellectual prowess to belong to this club. So, who is this woman and why does she think she can read my magazine? I don't know, and I'll never find out, because the train arrives and I get on, forgetting about her black pants and shiny new issue.
On the platform, a short woman in loose black pants is reading the New Yorker. I've been reading it religiously for over a decade, often while riding the subway, and I think it’s probably the best magazine this side of the Mississippi (and the other). The thing about the New Yorker is that when you subscribe, you don't just get a new magazine. You become part of the club. This can have a profound effect of arrogance, and when you see someone else reading it, there is wide slew of emotions that emanates.
On the one hand one enjoys being part of any group, especially one that feels so exclusive. On the other hand, we all like to believe we are the only ones with the intellectual prowess to belong to this club. So, who is this woman and why does she think she can read my magazine? I don't know, and I'll never find out, because the train arrives and I get on, forgetting about her black pants and shiny new issue.
Wednesday, June 9
Lobbying for Time
Judy R. gets into the elevator on the second floor with her two children (double stroller). She tells them I'm very friendly with their uncle Ari and they should say hi, which they do. I say hi back and give a friendly wave just before getting out on the lobby floor. I'm in the wrong lobby. It's 9:04 A.M. and I thought I'd be walking into my office building by now, but it appears I'm still at home.
On 186th, an Orthodox Jewish girl pulls her skirt down a bit lower. She keeps doing this till we reach the train station, or at least until I lose her at the turnstiles.
In an effort to avoid anyone I know and finish reading an article on the Borukhova case, I use the catwalks above the tracks to reach my spot. Looking down below I spot Suri G. and wonder what she's doing here, since she lives further downtown. Mental note: get the gossip.
On the train I grab a seat next to Ronnie S. who is so engrossed in his phone that he barely acknowledges me, even when I say hello. I'm not easily offended though, and by the time he puts his phone away and takes out a Sefer, I've already forgotten and opened my New Yorker.
On 186th, an Orthodox Jewish girl pulls her skirt down a bit lower. She keeps doing this till we reach the train station, or at least until I lose her at the turnstiles.
In an effort to avoid anyone I know and finish reading an article on the Borukhova case, I use the catwalks above the tracks to reach my spot. Looking down below I spot Suri G. and wonder what she's doing here, since she lives further downtown. Mental note: get the gossip.
On the train I grab a seat next to Ronnie S. who is so engrossed in his phone that he barely acknowledges me, even when I say hello. I'm not easily offended though, and by the time he puts his phone away and takes out a Sefer, I've already forgotten and opened my New Yorker.
Tuesday, June 8
Le Pensuer
When a shiny minivan pulls up next to me on 186th street, I think at first that the car is just parking. It is, but it turns out Gershon S. is the driver and, after spotting me through the windshield, starts honking like a madman. We chat for a while and he tells me about his new upstart business, Hudson Heights Restoration.
Zehava K. walks by and I join up with her. She wants to hear all about Matt's wedding in Israel, which I attended in May. I spot Lisa K. on Overlook while talking to Zehava, and we also pass Rabbi B. He waves. When we reach the platform, Uri M. walks by and says hello.
Zehava looks ponderous and I want her to assume the position of Le Penseur, to photograph for my blog, but she doesn't agree. On the train, she grabs a seat but I stand, preferring that to squeezing between two fairly large people on the bench across from her. At 59th, we both get off and wave goodbye.
Walking towards Park, I see my old girlfriend Debbie R. but by the time I recognize her, it's too late to say hello. As quickly as the fleeting summer nights so many, many years ago, she has disappeared into her office building.
Zehava K. walks by and I join up with her. She wants to hear all about Matt's wedding in Israel, which I attended in May. I spot Lisa K. on Overlook while talking to Zehava, and we also pass Rabbi B. He waves. When we reach the platform, Uri M. walks by and says hello.
Zehava looks ponderous and I want her to assume the position of Le Penseur, to photograph for my blog, but she doesn't agree. On the train, she grabs a seat but I stand, preferring that to squeezing between two fairly large people on the bench across from her. At 59th, we both get off and wave goodbye.
Walking towards Park, I see my old girlfriend Debbie R. but by the time I recognize her, it's too late to say hello. As quickly as the fleeting summer nights so many, many years ago, she has disappeared into her office building.
Monday, June 7
Party Time
I've gotten used to leaving my apartment in the early hours so today, having overslept as much as I did, I'm surprised at how much light is out already. There's a fresh cool breeze though, which after yesterday's sweltering heat just about makes up for anything.
I head to the station, through the turnstiles, and down to the platform. Aviva P. is near the bottom of the stairs. As the train approaches, Ken H. walks by and we fist-five each other as he passes.
There are plenty of seats on the subway; I grab one and - finally off my video kick - start reading the New Yorker. I'm three months behind, but plenty of subway time to catch up.
At Rockefeller, as I get off the train, I spot Ilan K. in the distance. A guy who is very much defined by his curly hair, we have mutual friends and have met at various parties, including my some of my own birthday parties. And while the memory of those parties makes me want to head straight to any open bar, I follow the crowd up the stairs and to the office instead.
I head to the station, through the turnstiles, and down to the platform. Aviva P. is near the bottom of the stairs. As the train approaches, Ken H. walks by and we fist-five each other as he passes.
There are plenty of seats on the subway; I grab one and - finally off my video kick - start reading the New Yorker. I'm three months behind, but plenty of subway time to catch up.
At Rockefeller, as I get off the train, I spot Ilan K. in the distance. A guy who is very much defined by his curly hair, we have mutual friends and have met at various parties, including my some of my own birthday parties. And while the memory of those parties makes me want to head straight to any open bar, I follow the crowd up the stairs and to the office instead.
Friday, June 4
U Rock
I run into some neighbors in the elevator, then make my way to the garbage room where I dump a large bag of trash and some recycling. Heading out the back door, I mail some letters at the dropbox on 187th and Broadway and then to Dunkin' Donuts for a much needed cup of coffee. Being National Donut Day, I expected a longer line, and am surprised to find only two people ahead of me. The girl behind the counter pours milk into my coffee and asks if it's a good color. I tell her it’s great, and notice she's wearing a "U Rock" sticker on her left cheek. "Yea," she says, "I rock!"
Today is the first day, since I returned from Israel, that I woke up later than I wanted. I'll still make it to work on time, but I'll need to skip the gym and its unlikely I'll have time to go after work or during lunch.
At the station I run into Nomi G. and we ride a relatively uncrowded train together, discussing a large number of topics ranging from naked male yoga to California geology.
At 59th I get off and switch to the D train, but when the B arrives across the platform an announcement is made stating the B would be leaving first, so I hop across, making it inside just as the doors close.
Today is the first day, since I returned from Israel, that I woke up later than I wanted. I'll still make it to work on time, but I'll need to skip the gym and its unlikely I'll have time to go after work or during lunch.
At the station I run into Nomi G. and we ride a relatively uncrowded train together, discussing a large number of topics ranging from naked male yoga to California geology.
At 59th I get off and switch to the D train, but when the B arrives across the platform an announcement is made stating the B would be leaving first, so I hop across, making it inside just as the doors close.
Thursday, June 3
Bump
I’m carrying a large shopping bag today, with an ergonomic Microsoft keyboard which I needed at the office but had accidentally shipped to my apartment instead. As I walk outside the building I run into Avi T. and we say good morning to each other. On the corner of 186th and Bennett, I also see Ezra F. We say hello. Near the entrance to the station I see Steven S. and wave to him too.
The station is scorching and everyone around me seems to have broken sweat, including the teenage girls with a miniscule denim skirt. Sitting next to me, her hair is in pigtails and she is working on a report about World War I. To my right several people are playing games or emailing on their phones. A girl with very large feet walks by.
On the train, I want to watch a movie I’ve downloaded to my Blackberry but the file is corrupt and it won't play, so I listen to music instead. At 59th The B is across the platform so I stride across. Some people run and one woman wallops into me. I can't hear what she says afterwards, because my music is on too loud, but at first I assume she has apologized, until I look at her expression. I think she might have been telling me I should watch out.
The station is scorching and everyone around me seems to have broken sweat, including the teenage girls with a miniscule denim skirt. Sitting next to me, her hair is in pigtails and she is working on a report about World War I. To my right several people are playing games or emailing on their phones. A girl with very large feet walks by.
On the train, I want to watch a movie I’ve downloaded to my Blackberry but the file is corrupt and it won't play, so I listen to music instead. At 59th The B is across the platform so I stride across. Some people run and one woman wallops into me. I can't hear what she says afterwards, because my music is on too loud, but at first I assume she has apologized, until I look at her expression. I think she might have been telling me I should watch out.
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