There is nothing to it really. In NYC it is like breathing in and out, a necessity of life unless you are one of those people who drive in every day. I could never do that, it would screw up my “me time”. For my forty minute train ride into the city and my forty minute ride home, the LIRR can offer me the opportunity to catch up on my reading, to listen to my favorite tunes or to just stare blankly out the window (which inevitably leads to much needed napping).
There are, of course, the occasional hiccups. These are the idiots, freaks and assholes who can screw up a perfectly tranquil commute and make you wish that you owned (and were properly trained in the use of) Chinese ninja stars. I will save my comments on those for another day.
Today I want to tell you about my gum splotch.
That identifying mark on the ground that lets everyone know the doors to the LIRR will open just to the left or just to the right of it. Therefore I, and the other commuters associated with this splotch, pay homage by acknowledging it when we approach and praying around it (praying that the train is not late, praying that there is no strike, praying that my feet do not get wet because I chose not to wear my rain boots even though the clouds are ominous) and we wait in anticipation for the splotch to answer our prayers. I am now a member of the Church of Splotch.
Of course, there are the antisplotches too. Every religion has an anti, mine is no different. These are the people who stand next to a splotch, with conviction; so that other splotch watchers believe that this is a true splotch, only to find out otherwise as the doors open three and a half feet away. These people, oblivious to the sacrilege they have just committed, stroll over to the off center door and enter happily, leaving real patrons of the splotch remiss for following a false forecaster.
This is the ponderance that consume me. And no, I really do not have anything bigger than this to worry about. Ok, maybe I do. But this is the ponderance that consumes me at this moment in time.
Categories: Personal History / My Own Words