Wednesday, September 26th

Oh, the weather outside is delightful... the indigestion I was suffering was frightful... Basically, the morning was a little rocky. Thanks to a combo of a few things, the "Detox" tea being the main instigator, I left the house and then came back to the house to finish some unfinished business.


At this point, it's just past 9am and I realized I was going to be late to a 9:30am walk-thru of the venue we're having the Gala in November. The venue is just down the street from work.


So, I speed walk to the train.

79 degrees, and it's only getting hotter. Humid. El cielo es azul.


N: A train blasts overhead as I approach the station... and, miraculously, I catch the second half of the Double, Double! He's with me this morning, I think.


7: Boom, right in the station when we pull in. Nice nice nice...


G: No kidding, the train is waiting for us. It pulls out a second after I hop on. Yes, I think, I'll be on time. I got off the train a stop early (Clinton-Washington) and barrel off in the direction I believe to be SouthEast.


Epilogue: After deciding I didn't have time to stop in my favorite Brooklyn coffee shop, Tillie's (aside: the first time I went in this shop, I was overwhelmed at just how amazingly "Brooklyn" it was because it seemed a representative from every creed, religion, race, age group, gender, fashion sensibility was hanging out in the shop, checking email, laughing, politely asking each other to pass a napkin), I thought to myself, "Gee, I didn't realize Tillie's was over here..."

Then, after walking another 6 streets that didn't look familiar, I slowed down, looked up and realized I was looking at the Manhattan skyline.


"What a second..." I thought to myself. "Manhattan is... West and North of here." Mother Efer.


I turned around and there walking steadily behind me, as she had been for the last several blocks, was a pleasant looking middle-aged Caribbean woman. As she approached, I asked her if she knew where Fulton Street was.


"I knew you were lost," she said in her soft island accent, looking me right in the eyes.


"What?" I asked defensively.


"Why...because I was moving so quickly?" She laughed. "No, I just knew. It was a sixth sense. I knew first thing I saw you back thar'. 'That child is lost.'"


She seemed so kind and I could feel the minutes pass us by, so I decided to believe her.


"You have good intuition. Do you know where Fulton Street is?"


She opened up her body towards me as she made a large, circular sweeping gesture, "Oh, it's about 6 loooong blocks back dat way." I followed her hand back up the streets I had so determinedly pounded and realized I had gone 15 minutes out of my way.


"I was on time...," I half-bitterly, half-disappointingly admitted under my breath. "Thank you," I said as I started to walk the other direction.


"Sometimes," she called back to me, "getting lost is God's way of telling you to slow down."


Her words flooded over me with a wave of warmth, then I got goose bumps. Then, I had to go the bathroom. Real bad. I thanked her again and started walking back the way I came, now in search of a bathroom. And there was Tillie's, quietly waiting for me, ready to provide the breakfast and relief I never had that morning...


Epilogue's Epilogue: I was 35 minutes late to the walk-thru. But the caterer was 25 minutes late. Maybe she got off at Clinton-Washington, too...