Between Here & There

You'd think because I was working in the City today, getting from home to the office should be nothing short of a breeze. Maybe the day was simply off kilter, for every aspect of commuting today was fraught with some kind of peculiarity.

-The subway was very late for a weekday. And when the #1 train wheezed into the station, it was chockablock with bodies. Today was rainy and humid so the windows of the train were steamed up and moist. Yeah, I wanted to get in there.

-Halfway through the subway's route downtown and with people stuck to each other like filo dough, the conductor announced the train would be going express. Which would be good is it actually went express. In the end it meant that the train avoided stopping at certain stations but moved at a geriatric pace between them. The last of the make up that I had applied with care that morning was melting off. Oh, and what a perfect time for a series of hot flashes. This is just dandy.

-When I finally arrived at my station stop (4 blocks further downtown than my usual stop), the rain was coming down. I propped up my umbrella and ambled toward the office. As I walked down 14th Street trying to avoid the hoards of wayward umbrella wielding commuters clogging the sidewalk, I saw a pigeon flying in my direction. Pigeons and people co-exist just fine in this city, but this one looked a bit..off. He was flying straight toward me. Oh Christ, a pigeon is playing chicken with me on a crowded street. That was the last thing I needed. He was intent on his course and as a last line of defense, I flicked my umbrella in front of my face. The pigeon made an unpleasant thump as he hit the umbrella. He then soared upwards. I guess I'm lucky he didn't actually hit me...or shit on me. So I avoided the pigeon collision but by this time the elements had utterly fucked my hair.

-At the end of the day, the wait for the subway was less of an ordeal. And a few stops in, I actually got a seat. The man sandwiched to the right of me had a propensity for adjusting his crotch. Or his pants. Or who knows what. He just kept fiddling with himself. I didn't exactly want to stare but I was equally loathe to give up my seat. I told myself that it wasn't worth getting up until flesh was exposed. The woman sitting on the other side of me was viewing photos on her digital camera. They were all head shots of her and she was zooming in on each one, studying the landscape of her own face closely. At least it was quiet. At least the train was making all stops. All least the AC was working...until we got to Lincoln Center. Enter the man with the accordion. This strange man decided to regale us with his own musical stylings, occasionally chirping in with his own croaking voice. I was tempted to give him five dollars if he would go into the next car.

-When I got home, there was a message from Fang. He'd been trapped in a Long Island Railroad train for an hour. His train had apparently hit some debris on the tracks which sparked a fire and left the train inhabitants stranded. He said the words that all commuters dread; he said the train would be delayed "indefinitely." In the end, he finally showed up at home at 8-something tonight. And that was considered good.

It ain't easy getting here to there sometimes.