Monday, Monday

I was traveling down south this week for work. Gone from Tuesday to Friday.

Now, you'd think that one of the 3.5 days I was traveling would be the most interesting of the week. The most memorable. The coolest of the uncool post-college work week.

Surprisingly enough, Monday was the one day that stood out during this past week. Monday morning to be exact. Not really because it was cool or interesting. But because it was particularly awkward, uncomfortable and amusing.

It started out like any other Monday. Late. I snoozed my alarm 3 separate times and didn't make it into the shower until 7:15. Five minutes off my scheduled pace to ensure Lynch and Alex could get adequate shower/shave/Lady Gaga on the bathroom i-pod dance time. I was out by 7:40. Still had about 30 minutes before I had to leave for work. I grabbed my phone and set my alarm for 8 a.m. Quick nap before breakfast.

Lynch left a little before 8 to study for his CFA (Driver's Test) at work. That left Alex and myself. Just like during the holiday season, Alex is especially cheery on Monday mornings.

Alex and I ripped our sandwiches out of the fridge and threw them in our work bags. It was the first time I'd made a sandwich in about 2 weeks. I felt responsible and my wallet thanked me.

We headed to the elevator, slamming our apartment door behind us and cursing the long week ahead of us.

We hit the elevator button and after passing by us both on the way up and back down again, it stopped on the 7th Floor. By that time, our hallway neighbor had joined us for the ride down to the 1st floor.

Now, the only thing that makes a Monday morning worse is being forced into conversation with someone. Whether it's some bum on the subway, the Metro delivery woman or an old coworker you never actually liked.

Well, Alex and I were thrust into that position on this cold, Monday morning. We'd actually met this girl before in the same situation and already exhausted all conversation topics during the 5 minute walk to the 6 train. We had nothing more to say to her.

Neighbor: "Hey guys! How are you? I literally just woke up 10 minutes ago!" (lol!)

Alex: "Monday morning. Wish I never woke up."

Neighbor: Nervous laughter.

We continued to bombard the poor neighbor with Monday morning misery and senseless inside jokes. She had no idea what was going on. This continued up until the three of us were standing on the subway station. Once here, our isolating humor died down. Now only long, awkward pauses.

The subway pushed into the station, packed to capacity with people from all points north of 103rd Street. The car doors creaked open, but no one came out. Nobody was getting off in Spa-Ha. Where the players play and the ballers ball. Where Maria, Maria grew up. Where Blue Magic ran the boys in blue.

So Alex began forcing his way into the subway. LW needed to get into work. He flipped strollers, pushed old women to the floor and elbowed a homeless boy in the face. I watched all this from the platform with our neighbor. I suddenly realized I needed to follow Alex's lead. I couldn't be left with this girl. As mentioned before, all conversation topics had been explored.

I squeezed into a tiny space just as the doors were closing, leaving our neighbor alone. Just as our inside jokes had left her alone. But I had also left something else outside the dirty, unrelenting subway doors. Half of my work bag had become lodged in the unforgiving threshold. I tugged at my briefcase, but couldn't free it from the door's tight grasp. My sandwich? Completely crushed.

Alex and I couldn't stop laughing at the situation and the circumstances leading up to it. We reiterated why we should never have woken up or called in sick to the office. I vowed to never make a sandwich again. Other passengers on the subway also found our predicament funny and smirked at our misfortunes. They smiled! Smiles on a Monday morning in a New York City subway! Unheard of. Rare. Rare like Mr. Clean with hair.

The rest of my Monday was pretty uneventful. I spent a couple hours trying to scan a newspaper article at work and ate chicken burgers for dinner. But the Monday morning was definitely one of the more memorable yet. A time when laughter is hard to come by.

Here's to Mondays?

March On

March. It's my favorite time of the year. A month when brackets burst, birthdays boom, seasons change and baseball begins.

This year my bracket has stayed relatively strong. Besides picking the St. Pete's Peacocks to advance to the Sweet 16 (a team nicknamed the Peacocks will never advance anywhere in any tournament), my bracket is healthy. As long as Kansas St. makes its epic run to the Elite 8 and Steve Lavin packs his team into the DeLorean, beats Gonzaga and BYU and moves on to the Sweet 16, I should be in good shape.

Birthdays in March are like striped shirts in my wardrobe. They're everywhere and always a good time. My birthday fell on a Friday this year. So instead of ordering Asian food and listening to Sheryl Crow, I went to an Asian karaoke restaurant and sang Sheryl Crow! About 20 friends went down to Japas 38 and sang, drank and threw sushi rolls all over the room from 10-12. It was a great time. I don't think I gave up the mic. Not once. We did some 3EB, 80s hits and I sang a duet with another girl who was celebrating her birthday. What song did we do? La Vie En Rose? Always Be My Baby? No way. Nelly and Kelly FTW. Welcome to Nellyville, girl.

Winter turns to Spring. The snow disappears, people are happier and the projects are poppin'. It's the one and only time I wish I still drove the tram in the New York Botanical Gardens. Magnolia Way, the Twin Lakes and the Ruth Rea Howell Family Garden are all in their prime this time of year. FYI. "The long, low brick wall marks the entrance to the Ruth Rea Howell Family Garden..."

America's pastime. The Mets may not be great. In fact, they may not be mediocre or even below average. But baseball is baseball. A game so pure (sans HGH, Barry Bonds and anybody who played from 1988-2009 (sans Mike Piazza)) and undeniably beautiful, it can make/break a little leaguer's childhood, cause grown men to cry and bring warm feelings of nostalgia and tranquility to those hot, summer nights. There's nothing like a late July ball game. I remember driving down to Camden Yards two years ago for a three game set between the Orioles and Mets. Nothing beats that atmosphere. Nothing beats that hazy glow under those soft, ballpark lights. It sort of reminds me of this MasterCard commercial from back in the day. Can "Summer Wind" please be played at every game?

A New York State of Mind

Chapter 1: He adored New York City. He idolized it all out of proportion. No, he romanticized it all out of proportion. To him, no matter what the season was, this was still a town that existed in black and white and pulsated to the great tunes of George Gershwin...

Forget about where you're from. Forget about where you're going. Forget about where you work.

Book a beer crawl in Brooklyn, queue the Q Bar line in Queens, bump some Dion and the Boys down Belmont in da Bronx, mix a martini and maneuver maniacal madams in Manhattan. (Not because you don't like them. Just because you can't talk to them. Maybe if you stop mixing that Martini. OK bartender. No ice. Straight Gin.)

Staten Island you say? Where is that? How do I get there? Honestly, I'd rather live on Alcatraz Island. How about a rock surrounded by lava. I've seen kitchens in homes that have better islands.

What about City Island? Let's make that the 5th borough. It's just across the LI Sound in the Bronx and has all the makings of a true island. The food is spectacular, the people are friendly and there are even bright, green parrots living amongst the trees. Seriously. I don't know if they speak with a Bronx accent, but they do exist on this tiny getaway. At least, that's what I've heard and seen in films. Never been.

The island resembles a New England fishing town. It's a change from the big city right across the bay. Yacht clubs, otters and a successful seafood industry make it a unique, quick escape for New Yorkers during the summer months. Get out the way, Bermuda! Just kidding, Bermuda.

What's the point of this blog post? I need to explore NYC more. While I'm young and living in one of the greatest cities in the world (save dirty H20), I need to see more and do more. Don't get me wrong. SpaHa and the Upper East Side are great locations. But there's more to this city than 99 cent stores and the "gorgeous" girls at Dorians. There are other places to discover.

Who knows? I'm 24 tomorrow. Getting older everyday. I could find a girl, settle down, if I want, I could marry. Soon I'll be living in Hackensack with 3 kids, a dog, and maybe one of those green parrots from City Island.