15 Oct 06

Time:

?

Money:

$2, black-and-white cookie at Penn Station, since I didn't have time for one last week and passing through there without one really is just not allowed.
$14, pizza for dinner.

More interesting things:

Got some coffee at Starbucks this morning. I know I'm not supposed to like them; they're the big business and who's going to support the little guy and so on and so forth... I know. And I DO go to Oren's (even though I'm pretty sure they're a chain too) and Think and the Mud Truck and Joe (now that I know about it, I mean). But one thing about Starbucks is that besides their Hilton-esque consistency - they all have low light, floppy chairs, strong coffee, etc. - there is a consistency borne of the simple and obvious fact that wherever I go, there they are. I know how that's not a good thing. But I also know that I can imagine a spot on the corner of Southeast 1st Street and Southeast 2nd Avenue that I really like (it's the one with the purple couches and the view of the Hipp) and another on Glades and 441 (that's where they used to fix the 6am life-saving vanilla lattes for me) and another on West 4th Street and Washington Square East (this would be the home of the funniest latte-pouring troop I've seen), and think of them at once as a group and as very separate places, all of which I have enjoyed for a variety of reasons.

Appreciated a hard jet-style bank and a see-you-later flap from a Great Blue Heron as I drove past the bird jungle island with the coffee. Back soon, Heron.

Fell halfway out of my seat when I saw none other than Class-Ring Tommy and his mom headed up the aisle towards me today. She looked at me, and I know she was either trying to figure out how she knew me or wondering why I was stalking them from in front, but it didn't last long because this time they were seated way behind me.

Enjoyed another person's representation of my three-hometown claim. She had a Florida Design magazine in one hand and a Big Brown Bag from Bloomingdale's in the other.

Made it back north on what amounted to a slightly weird flight. First, the flight attendant addressing the emergency-exit row issues said something about tucking our bags all the way under because "when people come through here, they're going to take it all right with them." Okay, to start with, let's all hope they DON'T come through here, and number two, while I can appreciate why we might want to avoid that for the passengers' benefit, why did she make it sound like she was just giving ample warning to us as baggage owners? As if, somehow, any possible situation involving the opening of an escape-slide-related door would also include us waiting around looking for our bags? Second, one of the other flight attendants was hacking around like some kind of TB patient; I was glad for both of us when some water and some gum fixed him up. Third, before we took off, it was announced that while the ascent and the landing might be kind of bumpy, the rest should be pretty smooth. Wrong answer, Maverick - for awhile there it was the bumpiest flight I'd ever been on, and while it was also kind of fun, I was still pretty glad when the pilot took us down a little to some nicer air. And finally, you don't usually run into unpleasant people on airplanes; I think there's an aspect of locking ourselves up in a 35,000-foot-high capsule that makes us treat each other even more nicely than we might otherwise. This time, though, I was lucky enough to sit next to a nasty overgrown greaser wanna-be, who showed us all just how tough he was by telling the hacking flight attendant who tried to straighten his seat, "Yeah, see, it dint move noweah!" Very attractive.

Took the AirTrain back to the LIRR and passed... a cricket game in Queens. Well, I figure it was cricket, what with the baseball field full of grown men in head-to-toe white. (And from the little I know about cricket, we should hope it was white fur and wool; they're probably still out there and it's chilly....)

Hopped off the AirTrain and headed in the direction of the ticket machine. On a wall between the platform and the turnstile area hung a large metal sign: PAY FARE AHEAD. Like it was a 75-mile-an-hour toll road and the drivers needed a chance to rustle up some change! First of all, what are you going to do if you don't have any money? Go back to the airport and beg for some? Second, speaking of the turnstile area, wouldn't that pretty much give it away that the miles between Jamaica Station and JFK are not free? It made me laugh out loud, and now I wish I could steal it.

Made my way down the steps to Track 2 to catch the train back to Penn Station; this would have been entirely uneventful except that I realized that with the sun setting on them, the stairs were October-colored.

Felt the urge to return the E train's greeting of "honk honk, hooonk honk." I wish I could ask someone how the engineers decide when and how much to sound the horn, because then maybe I could do a better job translating.