After work, I met Sheila and her dear friend Rich, Captain of a Firehouse in Long Beach, CA. Rich and his firemen crew are here in town to march in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade with Rich’s old 51st Street firehouse. They were great fun, but I left early to get home to my beloved Paquita. I walked to the Lexington Avenue Station and made my way through the maze of people and signage before I peeked out from underneath the brim of my hat to spot him staring at me just as his 6 train was pulling in to the station. Okay, it probably wasn’t him, but a slightly older dead ringer for him with a top coat and great hair. I didn’t hold his stare, just kept moving in my I’m-in-a-hurry-and-it’s-fu*king-colder-than-a-witch’s-tit-in-a-brass-bra state of mind. After all, I wasn’t waiting for that 6 train; I was headed towards another platform entirely.
So I passed him as the train pulled to a stop and walked for a moment before something made me turn around and take a second glance behind me. There he is, one foot on the platform and one in the train, and he’s holding the door open despite the conductor’s warnings and he was still looking at me. This time our eyes locked and he motioned for me to hop in the subway. It was a tilted move of his head directing me into the car and his eyes slightly pleaded for a brief second. His face and body language said, “Come with me. Why not?”
I thought, “Thanks, but I’ve got an N to catch,” and kept on walking.
And it just struck me as I got further from him and the doors of that 6 train slid between us that, metaphorically speaking, I always take the N home. I could be missing out on some serious destiny. I guess that’s why God invented Craig’s List; because, in the cold, fast-paced life of New York City, sometimes destiny needs a little helping hand.