Yesterday, in New York City, we were struck hard by the remnants of Frances, the hurricane I vowed to never again to discuss. So for the remainder of this posting Frances will be referred to by other weather terminology about water falling out of the sky. We reportedly received three inches of rain between 6 and 9 in the morning, screwing up subway service in four of the five boroughs - I'm sure it would have been screwed up service in Staten Island as well if SI had a subway.
Here is a description of my commute which is most likely typical of everyone elses.
I arrived at subway platform at 8:15 in the morning. Remember my train is an elevated train. When I arrived I saw there was an "N" waiting in the station. At first I was excited because how often, during rush hour, do you happen upon a train waiting for you with its doors open? Not often - is the correct answer. I read Memoirs of a Geisha while people piled on to the platform. Once I saw the train was really delayed, about 8:30, I called into the office. It wasn't so bad outside. It was drizzling and it was about 70 degrees. I looked around. People didn't seem upset or angry, just puzzled.
I certainly wasn't either upset or angry. If the train was stuck on my way home, I probably would have been on the verge of tears. But on the way to work - just more time out of the office. By 9:15 I was on a train on it's way to the big city. I had to get out of it at Queensboro Plaza because it was just too darn packed in there. The 7 train was running beautiful and wasn't too crowded for a change. At Grand Central Station I transferred for a 6 train. I had a let a couple of those go by because of the crowds and finally I was able to catch a ride down to 28th Street. The whole process took about 90 minutes. I walked into the office about 10 minutes after 10. Everyone was there already and of course they all came from the suburbs.
It was kind of a hum drum day at work. The tasks were the same but I guess the weather was bringing everyone down. Everyone had a story. Last night, I went to the RussianTurkish Baths as if the streets of New York weren't steamy enough, I needed more. I was accompanied by Sarah who didn't need much convincing. I used the same masseuse as last time and got a pretty decent massage although I won't say it was the best one I've ever had. The masseuse seemed rather obsessed with working on my hips and right buttock saying that the muscles are just very tight there.
Down in the saunas one can find many different body types. For the most part they are the types you might typically find at a County Fair and of course there are your ridiculously gorgeous women with the impossible to achieve bodies. There was one woman there last night who I've seen on both of my previous trips. She's old, skinny woman - a pile of bones held together by some loose fitting skin. I nicknamed her Grandma Death because she looked like that character from the movie Donnie Darko. She looks like how Grandma Death would look if she was almost naked and soaking wet. Weirdly enough she punched Sarah in the arm.
More relaxing than the massage was jumping into the ice cold pool after sitting in the hottest of their four saunas, the Russian sauna. That sauna is so hot that you have to dump buckets of ice water over your head in order to stand it. I got really hot twice and jumped into the cold water twice. Amazing. My ankles felt as though they were chilled right through to the bone. 2 hours in that place will make anyone feel like a million bucks, even without the massage. Just going back and forth between the four different saunas is all you need to feel relaxed. The massage definitely helps.