Wednesday, November 16, 2011


photo : Neely Johnson

Here I am in Chinatown. It's Friday at 6:34 AM What does AM stand for again?

"Excuse me -- hey. Hey! Hi. Where is the subway from here?"

"2 blocks that way."


Monday morning: 9:54 AM. My coat's belt is dragging on the ground as I explode into the building to clock in.

1 minute to go.

Type in the code to the door *******X, type in my employee number XXXXXXXX and my password XXXX.

30 seconds to spare.

Fluorescent lights and cracked plaster -- this place is like a prison. Except I arrive with boredom rather than fear.

Take the stairs in the back. My rush has passed.


Down the urban rabbit hole I go. I see a train coming. Is it mine? How do I know? I'm already neurotic and I haven't had caffeine yet.

I slide in my card. Punch in my pin %%%% and the auto clerk hands me my ticket. 

My train has arrived.

Slide my ticket through. Green light means DON'T STOP.

Doors slide and here I am inside the Delorean. Seriously, the inside is a time warp to the seventies. Complete with beige plastic seats and wood paneling.