Tuesday, September 09, 2008

baggage.

i am on reprieve, lacking my joie de vivre.

those are my favorite lyrics from one of my favorite songs - the legionnaire's lament - by the decemberists. considering my love of the sea and their penchant for seafaring stories in their tunes, its saying a lot that these lyrics are above the rest. in any event, they are also the only explanation we have for abandoning our dear little loveandcyanide the past two weeks. i don't know where my joie de vivre went, but it was most certainly not sitting atop my shoulder as it usually is.

but we're bringing ourselves back to form. there's been a lot going on in our absence - trips to wild islands, close encounters with deer, tomfoolery, job hunting, dinner partying, embarking on the journey of watching every episode of 90210 that ever existed - but we're just going to focus on two little stories involving our train platform.

every so often, but quite frequently during the past two weeks, there appears a homeless man (i think. he looks and smells homeless, but i probably shouldn't judge the book by its cover.) on our subway platform. which isn't so much of an oddity, i know - what is is the fact that about 5 feet away from where he sits on the bench he has lined up about 25 small plastic grocery bags. this gaggle of bags always appears whenever he is around, so i assume they contain his belongings, and i have to wonder - how exactly does he get all these bags up on the platform, and even more importantly, how will he get them all on the train before the doors close? do people help him?
and how long does it take him to drag them all up the steps? why doesn't he consolidate the small bags into larger bags so he has less to carry? really, i have become so fixated with this man and his mysterious pile of bags that i won't be surprised to find myself next to him on the bench, waiting patiently for a train to arrive so i can watch him in action.

oh, and help. of course!

------

and while i wasn't toting 20-something bags with me when i went away two weekends ago for labor day, i was in fact carrying about 100 lbs between my ginormous duffle bag and three smaller bags (note to dear readers: when traveling to a destination where cars are not allowed, use a bag with wheels!! we learned the hard way.). as i swung the duffle around and attempted to propel myself up the subway steps by the sheer force of my over packing, i spotted a con edison maintenance worker sauntering my way. ever the optimist, i assumed that this nice man was coming to help a damsel in distress (even though as we all know the cynicist in me would've never allowed him to touch my bags, lest he went running down 31st street with my hair dryer and bathing suits and i'd later find them for sale at the salvation army). and so he approached, and as i struggled towards the stairs i waited to hear a kindly "can i help you?" instead the interaction went like this:

con ed worker: hey! you have really beautiful feet.
chrissy: what?!
con ed worker: your toes - that color...
chrissy: seriously?! you're coming over here to comment on my feet!
con ed worker: no, really! that color is really sexy. *whistles*

as i huffed and puffed my way up the remainder of the steps, i had to laugh at how ridiculous the whole scene was -- although now in retrospect i wonder if he was actually coming to help me and just got distracted by my shiny purple toenail polish. hmmph.



3 comments:

Tim said...

OK, I have also had a close encounter with a deer in the last week, and the first thought I had upon reading about the hobo dude was that he should just get a bigger bag.

Great minds think alike. And are equally troubled by four-legged mammals, evidently.

missyandchrissy said...

great minds, indeed! was your deer rummaging through the trash as well?

Tim said...

No, it was glaring at me while I was running!