I Just Bought That

9:08am. 

Great. 

Running late again. 

Hopefully the train won’t be too crowded. 

It’s raining? 

Awesome.

Do I have my umbrella? 

Nope. 

Shit.

Forgot to get cash from the bodega last night. 

The bodega on the corner by the subway has an ATM and sells umbrellas. 

Do I really want to pay rainy day bodega umbrella prices? 

Do I have a choice?

The answer to both is no.

Seriously?

You’re going to cut in front of me to steal a seat when you see I have a cane? 

Asshole. 

The joys of commuting on the New York City subway. 

Not nearly as glamorous as it looks on Seinfeld or one of those other shows set in New York.

The seat thief leaves their earbuds in and doesn’t look up even though I am standing right in front of them. 

I feel a fart brewing. 

Side effect of early morning coffee. 

I manage to turn around and aim my butt at the offending seat occupier and let it rip. 

Oh yeah, I had Thai food last night. 

The seat thief inhales deep and yells profanities and invokes variations of deity names.  

Twenty-five minutes and a sore knee later I’m at my stop. 

I navigate the crowd up the stairs to street level and try to stay under as many awnings as possible. 

For the first time since the last time it rained there is a line in the bodega. 

Bodega cat winds between everyone’s legs leaving dander and cat hair in his wake.

I grab an umbrella, a Hal’s seltzer, and a pack of smokes. 

$43.50 later I’m on my way.

Since I’m already late and paid luxury prices for a $4 umbrella I need a coffee. 

My cart guy ran out of Anthora cups a few days ago and hasn’t gotten more yet. 

I blame that on my no good, very bad, rainy, wet day. 

There’s something about those blue and white Greek style coffee cups that I find comforting. 

No rhyme or reason to it.

I just do.

Balancing a dangerously hot cup of coffee, my new umbrella, and trying to light a cigarette is as much of a workout as I will get for the foreseeable future.

Lean into it.

Take a sip, take a drag, wait.

Four steps across the street and a massive wind gust hits.

I hear a snap. 

I feel rain on my head. 

My rainy-day-price-bodega-umbrella is now in two pieces. 

The handle, which I am holding, and the top part that is supposed to keep me dry is skipping through traffic. 

I just bought that. 

Now it’s gone.