Who's that idiot in the subway?

Friday, Nov 6
Yep, it's me. Bought my first NY Metro Card and spent $9 getting through the stall the first time. What. A dork. You'd think I'd never been in a subway before. The way it looked to my virgin eyes somehow confused me. An optical illusion. A litmus test to identify the train-worthy passenger. I was failing miserably. It was a swinging door type stall. I kept swiping my card, getting the green light then grabbing the bar closest to my shoulder instead of in front of me and rotating it one turn. Of course, after one turn, the bar locks. I essentially kept paying to lock myself out. After the third time the solution finally revealed itself to me as this young boy, who had just walked down the station stairs, turned to me and said, "You're supposed to..." "Yeah, no, I know, I mean... yeah," I stammered, picking up what was left of my dignity and self-worth, which wasn't much, and stuffing it in my pocket. I swiped my card, made it through the stall and got on the train. And it only cost me $9.00!

I headed to meet my friend Jan Leslie Harding from the cast of The Adding Machine at La Jolla Playhouse. I was to meet her at Times Square. This was a Friday night, maybe 6pm. Now, I knew I was headed to Times Square but it's been a good five years since I've set foot in the big apple and it wasn't until I popped out of the station and was accosted by the bright lights, enormous street signs and sea of moving people (Friday at 6 o'clock - christ!) that I realized, Holy Shit, I'm in Times Square! Times-m*th-rf^ck*ng-Square!!! (sorry, dear shy reader. but it will probably happen again) I joined the sea of moving people like, I think, a pro. Moving at the speed of pedestrian, weaving through, loving it. Jan and I and her daughter, young Chayda, met up and took a bus to, I believe, the West Village. Pasta, conversation, and holy crap-cakes, I'm in Manhattan.