Chronicles Continued

It is clear that the subway is a city beneath the City, in many aspects. There are occupants, and housing and rules and a whole lot more. Last night, after theatre, ran down the stairs at the Times Square Station and caught the A train as it was just entering the station. Although there is a conductor looking over the platform at each stop, the stops are timed to be short and curt. I bounded into the car along with a few others to see that the car was sparsely populated. This is usually a good thing. And then the smell hit me. Let me say that if you had this smell at home, you would immediately call a plumber because the youngest member of your family deposited a used diaper in the commode and it ran over. In this case? twins of everything. The train moves again too quickly to amend one’s choice. At 34th street I jumped off and ran to enter the next car, followed by two other passengers from the privy car. Two stops later I got off. I waited to see the train cars pass, as I wanted to see if anyone was still in the privy car and sure enough… there he was, the original occupant, middle aged, soiled, rubenesque in stature now stretched out for a sleep on the bench, alone in the car.

Saturday night, 9:30 to 10  lots of rain, thunder, lightening… the smell of petrichor or ozone or whatever it is that gives the air that clean smell, wafts through the open window, However the best part? The storm clears all the outside seating at all the restaurants along my street. Dead quiet, dead calm, no smoke, no drunks, no high and loud voices and a good night rest is guaranteed, because they don’t come back and everyone sleeps out or in, guaranteeing a quiet Sunday morning. Yes!

My favorite sight at 9 am on a breezy Sunday morning is two men, walking side by side, with a Starbucks cup in their outside hand, the other hand of each pushing a stroller with a girl toddler seated within; cheerfully chatting with each other as they make their way to the park on the corner. What a gift these men are giving all the females in both household.

In the City, a car alarm is a somewhat frequent annoyance. I am curious if they actually do deter theft or if they just add to the ear pollution. However there is a sight that brings a devious smile to my face; an expensive car being towed because the driver had the hubris to park illegally, and while it is hooked up by it’s rear end, the lights are flashing and the alarm is sounding. According to the make of car, it will stop and start during the towing process, rather like a child taken by the arm and protesting all the way down the sidewalk.

The homeopathic medicine theory is that if you want to cure allergies and other ailments that make your nose run, eat local honey. Truly local. Bought a jar of honey from ‘Let It Bee’, harvested from their Manhattan Rooftop Apiary. The advert in a local weekly said it has a subtle lemon note. To my taste you can taste the urban: the air, the pavement, it does taste local, compared to honey from the central, mountain region of Virginia.  Excellent quality.  Delighted to have found it.

Sitting across from me on the subway, a young woman, dressed to look as if she stepped out of a Gidget movie of the 60’s. What caught my attention was her shopping bag with the words Urban Decay on the side. I could not figure out what sort of store that might be. Then she pulled from the bag a rectangular blue box about the size of a Kindle only thicker and opened one end. She slid out what appeared to be a velvet covered box which she opened, making half of it the lid and half the bottom. The box closed was not thicker than an inch and a quarter. She looked at the contents so very carefully. She tipped it toward her, some what away from her, but in all the movements I could not see what the box contained. Was it an ipad sort of content, or a dvd player or a small computer?  Affixed to the top of the blue box were the stylized initials UD which, had I not seen the bag, would have read as WD. After five minutes, she closed the velvet box and slide it with concern back into the exterior box and closed the end flap. As she was closing the flap, I could see faint circles on the bottom of the box, and they appeared to be in shades of red or coral. It was fascinating that I had no idea what the store sold or what she had in her hand, based on the name. One of the first tenants of marketing… does your name describe your product. Perhaps if you are early 20’s it does, but it is learned, not intuited from the label.