A few weeks ago, a friend related a story to me about a devastating breakup. Silly girl, I thought to myself. Allowing yourself to get all caught up in trying to have a meaningful relationship. I crassly told her not to get all involved with her "bitches".
Well, I'm eating my words now, because I'm smitten. That's right, I'm in love with the 8:55 Harlem Line Express to Grand Central. Sure, she's got a long name, but that's just a detail. This one really gets me. I met her in White Plains earlier this month. She's new, just added to this quarter's timetable, and man is she hot.
She usually shows up just a little early, and she's always got time and plenty of free seats for me. Not like that bitchy 9:00 express, so repressed and crowded, like some confused Catholic hooker.
8:55 really understands me. I'm a family guy. She knows that. "But I've gotta drop my daughter off at school at exactly 8:40!", I say. "Don't worry honey, you'll make it,"she coos reassuringly. "Don't forget your coffee."
"I've got a meeting at 10am", I stammer. "Just relax. . .listen to Howard and enjoy the ride." My kinda train.
And she doesn't mind if I take a call from my wife while we're together.
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