Today was momentous. Today was my first Bus Day.
I just moved to an apartment between York and East End in Manhattan. Read: very far from the subway. “Hey, I like to walk!” I thought. “This will be jolly!” By this morning (not yet a week after my move), my thoughts had shifted. They more closely resembled, “Hell’s if I’m going to walk fifteen minutes to the six train.” So I did the unthinkable: I took the bus.
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It started out meta.
I toted my computer to Bryant Park, yuppily, to write my first post. The guy at the next table was engrossed in a book — so engrossed that, as I sat down, he looked up just long enough to give me a distainful eyebrow-raise. I’d decided to just sit as I ate my sandwich, but after I saw this Look, I coincidentally remembered that I had an issue of The New York Times Magazine in my bag. I have never read The New York Times Magazine. I also cannot read and eat at the same time. But after glimpsing my neighbor, I decided it would benefit me to learn about Obamanomics and eat chicken salad, simultaneously.
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