Dear Diary:
Just moved back to New York. Running for last No. 1 to roll into 110th.
Swipe. No go. Swipe. No go. Train about to leave station.
Furious swipe. No go. Train pulls out. Internal temperature rising. Race to booth.
“Something’s wrong with my card. Can you help me?†Woman in booth won’t look up.
Plead. Push card through slot. Dented. Can you replace? “Nope.†Why not? “Can’t.†Why not? “Mail it in, lady.†Really? You’re telling me to MAIL IT IN?
New train pulls in. Pulls out. Internal temperature boiling. “Yep, lady, mail it in.â€
Dogged red hot. REALLY?
LADY. GO TO GATE. Race to gate. Catch third train. Realize have lost mind.
On way home. Calmer. Review previous behavior. Bad. Train pulling into 79th. Remain calm. Miss train. Status quo.
Approach booth. “Could you possibly help me? I think my card is dented.â€
Woman in booth attached to long talons (her own) curving over fingers. Two inches? Polka-dot décor on nails and possible photo of dog or husband (bad vision) on index fingernail.
Woman takes dented card. Applies multiple talons to dent. Exquisite concentration. Talon technique. “Here you go.â€
Train coming. Swipe card. I’m in. Yell over din. “Thank you!†Nod. Catch train. YES!
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