The train
Aujourd'hui, depuis le train traversant Williamsburg Bridge, le ciel et le fleuve étaient du même gris. La ville aussi était sans couleur. Le ciel et le fleuve avaient aspiré le rouge des briques qui donnent habituellement ses couleurs à la ville. L'Empire State Building semblait terne et vieux.
Yesterday, I was more or less late to go to work. I was one block away from the station when I heard the train. Missing the train would mean arriving late. So I ran. A group of young black men shouted something at me and laughed as I sped past them. Basically, they were expressing in a colorful manner their doubts about my ability to catch that train. Without slowing down, I turned around and waved my book high above my head in what must have made me look like a nuts and shouted back, "Nonsense! Of course I'll get it, just watch how it's done!"
I'm not sure they heard the whole sentence because I leant forward and ran even faster, ignoring the pain that had started about everywhere and repeating to myself all the reasons why there was no way I was going to miss that train. Because I was almost late on my second day's work. Because the are working on the bridge and at this time of the day there can be a train every 30 minutes only. Because if I were to miss it, damn, I'd be losing the admiration of those black kids.
Without missing a beat, I flew up the first starway and swiped my Metrocard. GO. So I did. By then my legs started to feel weak and numb, and if I had had the time, I would have kicked my ass for skipping breakfast. But I had to resume my sprint up the second stairway, and I arrived on the platform just in time to see the train's doors close and the train leave the station. I was exhausted, out of breath (those stairs are really a bitch), starving and my 10-hour workday hadn't even started yet.
Compare with today. Today, I'm not early, but not late either. When I heard the train arrive, I was standing almost at the exact same place as the day before. It was like a fucking rerun. A repetitive gag. Minus the black kids. What did I do this time? Nothing. "Rien à foutre," I said to myself in French because 28 years of thinking in that language is a pretty damn hard habit to kick, "I'm not doing this stunt twice. I'll walk quietly and catch the next train." So I kept walking and soon the station was in sight and I still hadn't heard the train leave. "Forget about it, man. Don't speed up." I climbed the first flight of stairs and the train was still in the station. People were coming out of the turnstile. I swiped my beloved Metrocard. GO. So I did. Started climbing the second stairway, and I admit that, at this point I was tempted to run. Instead I quietly walked up the last steps, got into the train, sat down. The doors closed and the train started.
Yesterday, I was more or less late to go to work. I was one block away from the station when I heard the train. Missing the train would mean arriving late. So I ran. A group of young black men shouted something at me and laughed as I sped past them. Basically, they were expressing in a colorful manner their doubts about my ability to catch that train. Without slowing down, I turned around and waved my book high above my head in what must have made me look like a nuts and shouted back, "Nonsense! Of course I'll get it, just watch how it's done!"
I'm not sure they heard the whole sentence because I leant forward and ran even faster, ignoring the pain that had started about everywhere and repeating to myself all the reasons why there was no way I was going to miss that train. Because I was almost late on my second day's work. Because the are working on the bridge and at this time of the day there can be a train every 30 minutes only. Because if I were to miss it, damn, I'd be losing the admiration of those black kids.
Without missing a beat, I flew up the first starway and swiped my Metrocard. GO. So I did. By then my legs started to feel weak and numb, and if I had had the time, I would have kicked my ass for skipping breakfast. But I had to resume my sprint up the second stairway, and I arrived on the platform just in time to see the train's doors close and the train leave the station. I was exhausted, out of breath (those stairs are really a bitch), starving and my 10-hour workday hadn't even started yet.
Compare with today. Today, I'm not early, but not late either. When I heard the train arrive, I was standing almost at the exact same place as the day before. It was like a fucking rerun. A repetitive gag. Minus the black kids. What did I do this time? Nothing. "Rien à foutre," I said to myself in French because 28 years of thinking in that language is a pretty damn hard habit to kick, "I'm not doing this stunt twice. I'll walk quietly and catch the next train." So I kept walking and soon the station was in sight and I still hadn't heard the train leave. "Forget about it, man. Don't speed up." I climbed the first flight of stairs and the train was still in the station. People were coming out of the turnstile. I swiped my beloved Metrocard. GO. So I did. Started climbing the second stairway, and I admit that, at this point I was tempted to run. Instead I quietly walked up the last steps, got into the train, sat down. The doors closed and the train started.
posted by Cecyl at 3:59 AM
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