Daily Rituals

There is something very intimate and, nearly erotic about watching a man tie his tie. Almost illicit, particularly when it is happening right before your eyes, and the individual is rather attractive...tall, with dark sandy hair short in the back, but fuller over his piercing blue eyes. I felt as though I were in his bedroom, standing behind him as he crossed the ends of the chianti-colored tie with his long, thin fingers and knotted it. I wasn't in his bedroom, we were on the #2 train heading into Times Square. His mirror was the subway window and he appeared lost in thought as performed what was probably a week-day ritual. Who knows why he left his apartment with this final detail undone. Had this rainy day inspired him to sleep in, not wanting to leave the comfort of his covers? One can only imagine!

Laps are for Babies and Other Small Personal Possessions

It amazes me how parents are totally oblivious to the discomfort of others when their small children are involved. Courtesy goes right out the window when junior wants to look out the window and take space that could be otherwise used for the elderly, or generally older, tired people.

I was riding the M104 bus on Sunday. It was one of those new-fangled busses with the raised rear seats that no one ever wants to climb the steps to rear and everyone crowds in the front.  Whoever designed these busses was clearly a sadist fantasizing about injuries at their hand.

On this particular afternoon there were many elderly people boarding the bus. I bravely pushed my way through the packed bodies and climbed the stairs, holding on to the bars so as not to lurch forward as the bus halts for a red light to avoid falling flat on my face. On my way to the back I couldn't help but notice two parents with their two tiny children taking up four seats. They were playing games with the little darlings while an elderly, white haired man holding a cane stood there more than likely praying that this selfish parent would pick up the overzealous two year old and place her in her lap.   She didn't and neither did her husband sitting two seats behind her.

I recall when my daughter was little. An older woman said to me, "You didn't pay for her seat, so she shouldn't have one."  "Obnoxious old bitch" I thought as I placed my daughter on my lap making room for her to sit.  Her reasoning was wrong, but the intent was there.  Now that I have teenagers, who I have hopefully taught to give up their seat to the elderly, infirm or pregnant, I seethe when I see inconsiderate parents so self absorbed that they don't notice the needs of others around them.

So, if you're reading this, next time you see someone who may need a seat, speak up and offer to put your kid on your lap, or offer your own seat.  Put your purse, shopping bag, etc on your lap.

Summer Reading

Her legs drew my attention. They were covered in lacy spidery tights. My glance rose higher noting that she had on a black cotton dress with a white print on the skirt. The two didn't go together from my persepctive. Moving my eyes up I noticed her braided hair falling onto the book she was reading, "G - Spot" caught my eye. An erotic novel. My eyes travelled down the seat to the woman next to her. She was nicely put together in a red suit, hair well groomed. She was reading "Shark" something, another erotic novel. The third women directly to my right, was less well dressed. Overweight, wearing a tee shirt and jeans, she too was reading what appeared to be an erotic novel based on the cover of two people locked in an embrace."I'm up to six," G-Spot lady said to Shark lady. "Oooh, keep going, it keeps getting better," I heard Shark lady respond. Now, I'm no prude. I remember reading Temple of Gold or something like that during choir practice. My sixteen year old daughter asked me about the G-Spot lately, where is it exactly she wanted to know. Now that I know there's a whole book devoted to it, I'll have to recommend it. But, reading erotica so openly on the subway? Before work? It's going to be a hot day in the office!

Entry Blockers

I ran down the stairs to the number 7 train, late as usual, muttering to myself, "get the lead out, move faster" as the people in front of me crept down the stairs.  The bell had rung indicating that the doors were about to close.  If I missed that train, I would have to wait 3-5 minutes for the next one that was pulling into the station to leave.  I had my headphones on, when I sarcastically said "Excuse me" to the thoughtless sentries that blocked the door.

Making it past these two behemoths I noticed that every one was staring at me.  Looking down to make sure I wasn't exposing body parts,  I realized that my music was kind of loud, so my voice must have been loud as well.  Feeling a bit contrite, I sought out a sympathetic face and found one in a sad looking woman, brown skinned with darker circles under her eyes. "I guess I was kind of loud, huh?"  "I feel the same way," she said in a soft voice, "I'm glad you said something." And, so I continue my crusade to rid the trains from entry blockers.  

Red Haired Lady

I take the 7 Train from Times Square to Grand Central five days a week. Doing that, you begin to notice many of the same people. There was one woman who reminded me of a friend of mine, red hair, freckles, kind of a birdlike frame. She could have been a dancer. Running to catch the train, I noticed her behind me. I held the door, and commented, "I feel like I know you!". "Me too," she said. We struck up a conversation and it came out that we both came from the Upper West Side.

Now, getting on the train at 96th Street is always a horror. This being my point of entry I believe that I have the god-given right to board before all of the "roaches" as I refer to the uptown people who de-train from the Local onto the Express train. This is what it feels like when the #1 comes in just as the Express is pulling in. All these little bugs crossing the platform scurrying to get on the train. Normally, I take the warrier stance, spreading my legs wide, moving my arms pretenting to be listening to music.

I ask my new friend where she gets on. "103rd and then change at 96th" she cheerfully tells me.
Ah, I think, you are one of the roaches. In the future, I should not be so quick to judge!