26 Mar 07

Time:

?

Money:

$8, regular lunch, regular place.
$12, burger and Coke, Josie Wood's (for the first time in awhile!)

More interesting things:

Walked more comfortably than I have in a long time - notice the verb was not "trudged" or "schlepped" - to the train, except for the part where in hurtling northwards someone slammed some body part or another into my hand. It didn't particularly hurt, but it was a good excuse to turn around and look like a pissed-off New Yorker; when I did and discovered that it was an apologetic-looking, black-hatted, ceremonially-ringletted guy who was looking over his own shoulder in an effort to mouth "Sorry!" to whomever he'd brushed by, I decided it was okay to drop the "pissed-off" part and just enjoy the rest of the description.

Watched the most meticulous apple-eater I'd ever seen make his way through a big yellow one as we made our collective way south through The Big one. If he'd taken another bite on either side of the center, where the seeds are, he would have cut the thing in half.

Transferred at Union Square from what had BEEN the 6 earlier in its journey to what was actually the 6 across the platform when over the sound of my iPod I was able to make out something about the next stop being Brooklyn Bridge. When I got off, I realized that the one I'd been riding had indeed pulled in on the express track, and I was left to wonder if the motorman had made a mistake (because by the time you get to the express stop at that station, there's no just, like, hopping over to the local until the end of the line) or if it was more of a purposeful traffic thing. (In any case, I made it to school, so that was nice.)

Fell in line behind a trio of what looked like undergrads just as I crossed the street towards my building; it was an appreciable little chunk of time before I realized what I was looking at: one guy in regular backpack, the other two in those little nylon drawstring bags the jock wanna-bes love these days - one with the Florida logo, the other with Ohio State's.

Got off the elevator just in time to come across Professor Alpha-and-a-Half. It was so nice to see her, partly, of course, because in a (perhaps inappropriately) unobtrusive way, I DO worry about her, but partly for the more selfish reason that I just like to be around her. She is one of the fluffiest, most outgoing, most welcoming personalities I've seen here - very "nice New York" - and that I was lucky enough to sort of get herded around by this person at the beginning of my days here predisposed me to love it all, I think. (Not that it necessarily takes much. But still.)

Found myself getting irritated with the microphone-enhanced bellowing taking place what seemed like right outside Professor Alpha's window, and, consequently, just about in my own ear; I think I even told Professor Number Four that WE should stage a protest of their protests. And then I got to feel like an idiot and a jerk when I detoured on my return from lunch to ask about the ladder truck and was told it was all in memory of the Triangle Shirtwaist fire. Yeouch - my bad.

Walked over to class with Professor Number Seven, who was inspired by a conversation with an old student to tell me a little more about the Friday sessions they used to have. I always like to hear about these things, of course, but the highlight of this particular commentary was the part where Number Seven told me that eventually the professors figured out that Thursday was party night and therefore that some people would show up "stoned" at eight the next morning. I'm not sure I ever expected to hear such a word come out of this particular person's mouth, but it did make me laugh (to myself, anyway.)

Enjoyed a variety of interesting conversations about writing etc. with Anne and Rebecca as two-thirds of us ate dinner and then three-thirds of us walked toward Broadway. We stopped at the top of the N/R/W staircase so I could finish what I was saying about Smitherman when I noticed a tall blonde lady look like she was about to head down the stairs and then think better of it. I finished what I was saying, although not as thoroughly as I would have liked, since I was busy contemplating whether this lady was some kind of Smitherman scholar who was about to start shrieking at me on the sidewalk, and in the end we discovered that (duh) she just wanted directions. Har.