Boarding at Jay Street / Borough Hall

After seeing some people on Wall Street, fuzzy headedly sit down on the A train going the wrong way, to Brooklyn. My cold's getting to me (while back in Princeton Mary tells me Graham's screaming his head off for like the third day in a row. Natalie's listless, or just pretending to be to watch TV). I need to make Penn Station by 3:01 to catch the express.

And at 2:34 I look up and see that I've slipped under the East River to Borough Hall. Doooohhh. Exit, cross over to train going the other way. An A train comes quickly. Across from me a rather large couple plunks down. In their 50s, she in some sort of fake fur, he in a leather jacket and some sort of black satiny pants with white piping down the seams, with a wierd combover and mutton chop sideburns that joined seemlessly with a bushy moustache. Caucasian. And they're eating candy, that's the kicker. She's got a Reese's Peanut butter cup, held between long black nails, and she's savoring it, taking small, slow bites, like Natalie would. He, on the other hand, prefers some sort of M & Ms in a tan bag, and is snarfing them, pouring them two or three at a time into the palm of his hand, popping em in his mouth. More like I would eat them, if I ever bought candy. Who buys candy like that at that age? Walking down the street, you know, I think I need some candy.

This is the kind of shit that pops up only on the subway.

I made my train.