First off: Happy Birthday to

First off: Happy Birthday to J, who loves getting older but hates the parties. It’s a sad, mixed-up world this beautiful boy lives in. I made him Ahe’s chocolate cake anyway, because even a boy who doesn’t like parties thrown for himself likes chocolate cake.

We took a lovely trip to Maplewood, NJ this weekend to visit my cousin’s family and kids. Do you know where that is? It is MY NEW FANTASY HOME! Forty minutes from the city, but neighborhoods and lawns galore. The problem I have when I visit my two cousins on my mom’s side is that they both have these great kids and fab houses and perfect lives that I want to gobble up right then and there. An average day in New York has my desire for children and a home at about average levels, with doses of reality and patience factored in. A weekend in Chappaqua or Maplewood has those levels shooting through the roof, somewhere in the neighborhood of RIGHT NOW! KIDS! MORTGAGES! J OPENING A HARDWARE STORE! HAPPILY EVER AFTER!

The city never manages to make it easier for me either; my trips always seem to be sandwiched between the craziest subway rides ever or some horrible apartment annoyance. This time, the crazies took their turn. The subways are crowded enough on the weekends, and you add in a travel companion, a couple of heavy bags, and two scarce open seats to take advantage of, and it is too late to move once you realize you’re sitting between three friends and their children carrying on a conversation in Chinese* at ear-splitting decibels. Or that you’re standing in the Smelly Pee Car. Or that the screaming baby is NEVER going to be soothed. Or that you’ve got front row seats to the theological debate of the century.

Crazy smiling guy: It’s all okay by God, because I have your soul, and that is all that matters to the all mighty lord. I’ve got your soul, and your soul. I’ve got all the souls here for the lord.

Crazy drunk man: You don’t have my soul!

Crazy smiling guy: Yes I do.

Crazy drunk guy [irate]: Ain’t no one got my soul except for God! No one else can have your soul! Why you sayin’ you got my soul?!
Crazy smiling guy: Why are you so upset if you really think I don’t have your soul?

I eventually had to put on J’s iPod (the Shins, top volume) to drown out the full on verbal BRAWL that commenced.

*Should it matter that it was in Chinese? I guess if it was in English, or even a romance language, I could have honed in and eavesdropped a bit. As it was, their incessant, ear-drum bleeding loud talking refused to yield anything good for me.

Sunday nights are always good for recalibrating and settling back into routine (Chinese take-out, This American Life, Simpsons, Arrested Development).
This morning I was feeling good again, readjusting to my New York life.

It was a minute or so before I realized the woman next to me on the subway wasn’t, in fact, talking to anyone in particular so much as she was yelling nonsense in my general direction. “You shouldn’t spend the money for a new one! A thousand dollars? It’s ridiculous, just use the old one!” But this time, I was alone and only had my work bag and book in tow. I didn’t even hesitate when I stood up, excused myself, and walked to the other side of the car, where there were plenty of empty seats and enough subway noises to let me enjoy my book in peace.

Messing with my escape from the city is one thing. Messing with my morning commute is an entirely other.

--------