Taking the 5:40 with Kerouac IP

I take the 5:40 train into New York city. I do this every morning. Sometimes it’s a joy and sometimes it’s a drag. It’s a drag when I’m standing in my cluster next to the conservative who’s is telling me, again, what is wrong with the country and how it’s Obama’s fault and did I listen to Rush Limbaugh on the radio yesterday morning? Some mornings I feel like tossing a conservative under a passing train. but in reality I would never do such a thing, but it’s nice to dream.

I get to Grand Central at 6:50 AM and walk to my job at Park Ave. and 54th St. I do concierge and valet work at one of the many social clubs in the area. It’s a mindless job dealing with the wants and needs of the wealthy.

Hotel reservations

Dining Reservations

Theater tickets.

Car Service.

Haberdashery items

You’d like to purchase a belt, sir. A size 36? Here you go. sir. What? It doesn’t fit. But I assure you, sir, it is a 36. It’s stamped on the belt. A misprint you say? No way you could be bigger than a 36? Right you are, sir, let me give you a misprinted 48. (I don’t say that. I’d be out of a job.) There, how about that? Fits just fine? I’m so glad.

I go through many such trivial matters throughout the course of the day before catching the 4:45 train home to Cold Spring in the Hudson Valley. It’s a lovely artsy-fartsy community with a quaint old vibe to it. It suits us just fine. On Saturday evening on Main Street you may fine my wife and I parked in our Adirondack chairs with ukuleles at the ready. Cocktails and ukuleles, and no work the next day, puts us in a good mood. I started playing one of my wife’s ukulele because I found that you can’t play guitar in an Adirondack chair. At least not without one of you getting hurt. My wife suggested a chair with no arms, but that would kill the whole outdoor sitting in an Adirondack chair having cocktails while playing the ukulele vibe.

Then it’s off to bed in a boozy, and happy, frame of mind.

Sunday morning awaits and it’s newspapers and pancakes or newspapers and omelets. Sometimes, though, I just prefer the comic section and coffee. A no-news Sunday I like to call it. Give my thoughts a break. Better for the blood pressure and mental health.

So I am hereafter proclaming Sundays an official Comics and Coffee day. Love the one your with. Wave to your neighbors. Climb a tree. Row a boat and, yes, play a ukulele. You’ll be the better for it. Because they’ll always be a Monday morning 5:40 train in the near future. And write, write, write. It’s good for the soul. Peace on you all.