This is one of those excuse pings for not posting. Work’s been, etc. I went to Mets-Yankees tonight: Reyes stole home in the first. Our man in the next seats over made a nice game of redubbing A-Rod “Gay-Rod”, loudly, which all of us liked but none so much as the eight year old in the next aisle, who kept having to wear his earmuffs in all the night’s obscene kerfuffle. Anyway, our man took a piss behind the seats so as not to miss the bottom of the eighth, which prompted me to move my bag over away from his stream. In doing so, wouldn’t you know, I kicked over our post-seventh-inning reserve beer, which flowed right down the aisle into a dam formed by my relocated bag. No regrets though, considering what might have been.
My subway ride home–two hours!–was filled with warm love for all of the inhabitants of New York City. I was amazed by the ability for all different stripes, Mets fan or Yankee fan, to coexist peacefully. A nice young man warned me that my subway seat had become unhinged from the wall and was liable to collapse at any minute. After I got up four people sat in that seat and made it from Times Square to Atlantic Avenue, but never mind. I had some new songs on my mp3 player, and all the people in the subway were smiling at each other, like I was watching a Modest Mouse-montaged final scene from an episode of the OC. (That was a bit David Brooks of me — I don’t actually know if Modest Mouse ever soundtracked an OC montage, but it feels right.)