Beer Goggles

There are two types of people walking the streets of New York City. Sub-types, sub-categories, exceptions and specifics are applicable, sure, but the overreaching idea here is just those two types. On one hand you have those mediocre, run-of-the-mill people who walk where they have to in order to get where they have to go. Not necessarily oblivious, but definitely not observant, they spend their travels looking through clear lenses with box-shaped blinders. They know the sky must be some shade of blue, the ground some shade of dirty or green, the streets and sidewalks either crowded or empty. There’s a certain warped respect that these people glean from others, partly for their apparent ability to think so clearly, but mostly for their ignorance of the ridiculousness around them – whether positive or negative.

Then we have those with tinted goggles – “beer goggles” if you will. They see the world in skewed shapes and non-existent colors; awed or disgusted by everything around them, much like your typical, drunken individual. The next patch of sidewalk is an even newer experience than the last, speeding taxis and people with big hats or weird jackets only adding to the novelty of a walk to the grocery store. The blinders on those uninfluenced are foreign to these people; there is no such thing as scope, nothing not worth observing.

I suppose the question is, which one are you? If you find yourself uninterested, well then you’ve answered it anyway and can go on with your day. If any of the above elicited a variation on the word “whoa”, the results of this mini-quiz should be just as obvious as pineapples. Not pleased with the answer? Just change your lenses.

So it goes...

There are only so many things you control, especially in a city of such magnitude. If you leave your home 10 minutes before your expected arrival time and your regular train takes 5 minutes to get you just outside the doors, then assume the worst. It’s like playing expert-level chess on the computer with a year of experience. Sure you control when you leave, how fast you walk to the station, even what train you take. But. What if you trip on a faulty sidewalk, or get stuck on the stairs behind what could possibly be the slowest moving line you have ever? Every move you make changes the possibilities, but no matter what you do they stay endless. Every move has a counter, every plan a trap with which to foil it.

Sounds a little defeatist, sure, but that’s only if you give up. Give yourself those extra 10 minutes to saunter, rather than run to the station. Plan to take the train that will get you there early, so when that sick passenger finally finds himself on your beloved train line, he won’t worry himself sicker with the knowledge that you’re going to be late.

Pleasant surprises are just as versatile as the negative possibilities. Stepping outside the figurative box creates a certain vulnerability that leaves you open to – insert shocked gasp here – other’s kindnesses. When you’re not busy running, pushing and loudly sighing you tend to exude a happy attitude that entices those around you to enjoy your presence.

Aero-plane Missive

The world below is an oxymoron. Everything I know seems so small, but there's land or water for miles. I lost count of the dozens of baseball diamonds after about 10 minutes. I recognized the city in one glance - it's taller than anything around it. The park is this bright green rectangle. I wonder if anyone I know is in it right now.

More baseball diamonds, but now there's actually open space. It looks weird. We're over a bunch of clouds now. I'm trying not to think about that or the fact that we're supposedly going 400+ mph.

I'm in the sky. This is the most open space I'll ever see, short of the ocean, and I'm stuck in a metal box with tiny windows. I guess it's an even trade-off. Plus there's always sky-diving.

Speed: 432mph Altitude: 22,212ft

We're starting our descent in 15 minutes. It feels like I've gone absolutely nowhere.
I've got some animal crackers to eat before the plane starts landing. Thanks for coming with me.