As I hit the landing the doors to the stopped train are still open. I amble over as fast as I can but they shut just as I approach them. Man, I've put in way too much effort to come this close only for the train to leave without me. I press my hands against the windows of the door and ... pull it open, somewhat to my surprise and pleasure. I jostle my way inside, ungainly, and hurriedly plop myself down in the first available seat, anxious to rest. I find myself seated among three very attractive young, professional ladies, two across from me and one next to me. They are completely non-plussed.
As the train is moving along I'm thinking if there is anything I might want to just double check. I look at the map--yep, red 3 line is express to Upper West Side. Nothing I need to double check with other passengers. All's good. A couple stops later, the lovelies leave and I hear the station announcement "Fulton" or "Wall St." Wait.. am I even going in the right direction? I ask the guy now to my left what direction this train is headed and he says downtown. AWWWWWWWSUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMM!
In a quasi-panic I rush out of the train and head up the stairs, trying to figure out where I need to go to get the uptown train. I ask another guy at the top of the stairs and he directs me back down the stairs I just came up. Oh, look, there are two tracks running parallel to each other. One goes UP TOWN and the other DOWN. Novel, isn't it?
I get off the train around 10:10am at Broadway and W 86th St, two long blocks to Vinny's apartment. I text Allie if they can drive the car to me, as I'm feeling like a battered old man. "We haven't gotten dressed yet so come up to the apartment." Ever since Steffen aptly tagged the absurdity of air travel with the line "hurry up and wait" I can't help but smile.
On the way down to NYC, we stopped by Mike and Becky's in Beacon where we received a warm welcome as always.
Their addition is coming along famously:
Michael Zelehoski is an artist. His latest tool is not a paintbrush or a stencil, or a even a chisel. It's a giant, 2500 pound table saw.
"this is the mother of all table saws, pretty much."
It's an Alendorf F45, yo and Jesse Pinkman's got nothing on this bitch.
Later we climbed a tower but there was something not quite right about the chocolate brownies we had eaten earlier that Becky had made us and the tower started to become distorted:
No, I'm just kidding. This is one of Michael's art pieces. Don't ask me how he produces with that giant, crude machine such carefully crafted pieces as this; that's just the genius that is Michael Zelehoski.
If you want to see more of his work, type his name into a google image search.
On the way back from NYC mom and I took the scenic root. Peekskill is a cute little town with some seriously steep streets:
Some beautiful houses on the river:
I leave you with a song: