Riding Metro-North. Looking too closely.

It’s dark. 5:40 a.m. I’ve got an early morning jump, and I’m high stepping it to the station. It’s October 14th and the weatherman is calling for mid-70’s. (And it’s damn humid before sunrise.)

I’m feeling Prime this morning. Another night of solid sleep. Something is working, exactly what, is unclear.

I strap on my earphones. I get off the train. I’m lost among the throng, and fidgeting with my ear pieces. (Apple.co can drag music from the clouds and shoot it into my head but can’t seem to get these earbuds to stick.)

I enter the main Grand Central terminal. The wall size Red, White & Blue greets me. O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

As do Police. Police Dogs. Bullet proof vests. And Guns.

I glance up as I exit the station. Nestled within a green leafy planter on a pole eight feet up is a sign: NYPD Security Camera. And surrounding the station are Police Cars. Police Vans. Unmarked Cars. And more German Shepherds.

I turn up the music to drown out the dark, and I continue down 42nd street. Fink is playing: Looking too Closely. Looking too close. No. No. No. 

I pick up my pace. Everyone is standing still, or moving in slow motion; I’m passing them on my right, on my left. (The DK Express is hauling a**.)

With no safe jaywalking opportunity available, I wait for the Walk sign. Dark thoughts roll back several weeks.  (Ocean Voung whisks in: “There’s enough light to drown in but never enough to enter the bones & stay.”)

It’s mid-morning, mid-week in August.

RK: “Dad, did you hear about the terror alert?”
DK: “No.” (Honey, don’t turn out like your Dad. He doesn’t lift his head up.)
RK: “At Penn Station and Times Square.”
DK: (Silence. Times Square. We’re in it.)

A colleague hits me with a text minutes later.

LL: “I told my daughter not to wait for me.”
DK: “Wait for what?”
LL: “You heard about the terror alert?”
LL: “If anything happens, I’ve told her to make a run for it.”
DK: (Silence)
LL: I told her not to wait for me. To get out and head for Burroughs.
DK: (Silence. She told her not to wait for her. To get out.)

The light turns green and I continue down the street, restoring my pace.

I enter Times Square. Building sized neon ads light up the dawn, the concrete canyons and the heavens. Calvin Klein. Samsung Galaxy. Marriott. ESPN. And a mountain size ad for this season’s premier of “The Walking Dead.” (“Let there be light,” and there was light.)

I’m a block away from the office. I’m overtaken by emotion.

Honey, if anything happens, you wait for your Dad.
Don’t you worry. Sit tight.
Your Dad is coming.

Notes:

• Photo Source: Jaimejustelaphoto
• Related Posts: Riding Metro North Series