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So coming down the elevator this evening around 6 ? I run into Chris. Start to tell him something regarding Bronze Goddess delivery improvements.

?Walk with me? the little round face says.
?Trying to make the 6:08.?

?That ain?t gonna happen? I reply looking at my watch.
?When?s the next one??

?6:30 ? but if luck runs my way I can get the 6:08.?


He seems in a hurry ? a slight red tinge to his cheeks.

We continue talking as we head for the subway entrance over on 60th ? moving with a slight spring, speed & agility to his step that belies his normal stature. He didn?t appear to be moving his legs any faster then I (I checked) but always seemed to be 10 steps ahead of me.

Down the stairs we plummet into the welcoming stench of the NYC Subway platforms. Just where does that smell originate from anyway? It?s unique unto itself ? sort of like the locker room in High School with a hint of jasmine overlaid with bacon.

I don?t think he touched a single stair on the way down.
Like he floated.

Onto the platform & it seemed Lady Luck was shinning on him.
A train was waiting with open arms beckoning us to enter.

A very congenial conversation followed (I like the guy) & I learned the source of his anxiety ? meeting a friend (or brother I?m a little sketchy on the details) & his friend?s daughter at 7. He?s always on time. People count on his timeliness it seems.

The flow of conversation distracts me from where our rolling caravan is on its appointed rounds. The doors spring open & like a ?jack-in-the-box? out the door he goes.

Looks at his watch.

I look at mine.

A pan handler entreats us to contribute.

Time pauses???

?4 minutes ? I just might do it if I really hurry.?
?Well don?t wait for me ? go for it? I reply.

Now I have no clue how we made it to 42nd Street in like 5 minutes. Perhaps he has access to a machine that can ?bend? time.

We where so engrossed in our conversation I wasn?t really paying attention.
I will leave this for others to ponder.

?OK? he says.
And with that again he takes off at a startling pace without seeming to move his legs more then a moderate tempo. Rapidly pulling away from me.

It?s then I realize that we got off at 42nd Street.
I?ve never gone to Penn by way of 42nd Street.

Like an ant following a well worn trail (minus the droppings of course) I?ve always plotted my way from 34th Street staying underground to 32nd & heading up to Penn that way.

We begin to barrel down a stairway ? which one I have no clue ? first time I?ve ever been on it.

?Never been this way bef????? I start to tell him as like the rabbit in Alice of Wonderland darting down the rabbit hole he disappears around a corner.
Again looking like he?s floating in that last glimpse I have of him before he disappears from sight.

I round the corner & like a wraith disappearing into the night Chris is no where to be seen.

I realize I not only have no idea where I am ? but ? also have no idea where I go from here to find the Penn that I know.

I begin to wander the caverns below feeling like Brendon Fraser in Return of the Mummy. The only thing missing are the torches hanging from the walls. These eventually materialize in my mind?s eye. Along with cob webs hanging in the dimly lit recesses. The sound of scrabs scuttling about in the dark

Rachel Wiesz by my side.

Beginning to scare myself I realize I?m actually starting to get into this.

Alas a bum throwing up in the corner eventually dispels the illusion.

After what seemed an indeterminable amount of hours if not days of uncertain wandering, the soft feel of Rachel?s hand in mine (never mind
) ? a sign appears???


?Odd to see that in the Mummy?s tomb? I think.


Bidding Rachel Goodbye & wondering if the? little fella? made his train I step out onto familiar ground.

There?s no place like home??????


?Terrorists on the Train Ride Home?

This post edited by wader 03:47 PM 08/29/2008
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