Grand Central Terminal, 9:10 pm

I was trying to make the 9:07 Stamford local.  I knew it was gonna be close.  There was a 4 minute wait for the 2/3 at 14th St, so I had to soldier on on the local, past 18th, 23rd, 28th, 34th, to 42nd, and then the S.  I found myself sprinting through the main hall of Grand Central, only to discover that, according to Metro North, it was 9:08.

And so, there I was.  Sweaty and unshaven after a day of standing in line for ferries to and from Governor's Island, and then of drinking in its legitimate charms with the family.  The highlight was chilling in the breezy shade with an iced coffee while Graham had a lemonade while Mary, Natalie, Sadie and Beth rode around on some 4-person bike contraption.

But, as I said, there I was.  Half an hour to wait, standing in one of the coolest rooms in all of North America, the main hall of Grand Central.  Well air-conditioned it was.  Not so hustly and bustly as it usually is when I go through there.

At one point in time a group of 3 girls and a couple of guys came out of Track 21 or 22, meeting a couple more guys.  Fist bumps, hugs, complicated handshakes all around.  A couple of black guys, a couple of Hispanic or maybe Italian-American guys, and girls of similar provenance, all in their early 20s.  Kids from the boroughs.  Bridge and tunnel, you might say, if you were an asshole.  Who knows where they were headed.  Maybe some club I would never have even heard of when I was in grad school, or maybe a TGI Fridays, who knows.  It was cool, though.  Kids getting together on a Saturday.  With chaos raging in Ferguson, it was good to see America working the way it's supposed to here in New York.