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!