A song for the subway

(To the tune of “Folsom Prison Blues” by Johnny Cash)

“I hear the 2 a-comin’
It’s comin’ down the tracks
It’s going to run over
Five little rats
I’m waiting on the platform
And it smells so bad
When I hear that train a-comin’
I’ll tell the rats goodbye”

It’s only one verse, but it’s based on a true story.

The true story is that last night we watched a group of little rats play on the tracks while we waited for the 2 train. I don’t know if it really ran them over or not, but while we’re on the subject, have you ever noticed that rats don’t die when they touch the third rail? At least, I have never seen it happen. Do you think New York City rats evolved to withstand electric shock?

Last night Devin and I got to watch the rats play in the company of my little cousin Gaby and her best friend Efren. It was special because this was her first trip to New York, and I thought I might not be able to see her. I was also super excited to meet her bff. They’ve been friends for what seems like an eternity, and now they’re both in their first year of college, away from home, all the way on the East Coast! (They’re both from El Paso.) I think it’s so cool that they get to be close to each other.

We had dinner at Umami Burger and all agreed that it was not delicious. Maybe our palates are not refined enough to taste the fifth taste, but everything tasted overly sweet to us, which is not great where burgers are concerned. However, it is open late and does have a great mirror for group photos.

~Visual Umami~
~Visual Umami~

This morning I rushed to New Jersey as fast as I could to see my cousins Vanessa and Josh. They were in town for Thanksgiving and their first baby shower (Josh is my cousin by marriage). I only got to see them for a couple of hours, but it was really fun. I watched them pack all the books they got as gifts for their baby and took a picture of some cool found art.

One of these dolls is not like the others.
“One of these dolls is not like the others.”

I also bought Vanessa a book to read on the plane because she accidentally packed hers, and it seemed a grave injustice that someone who took such care to ensure her progeny would have books to last a lifetime would be denied the joy of reading herself! (If I’m being completely honest, I have to note that she is the best at letting me borrow her books and it was a book I’ve never read, so really it’s an investment. Sometimes she even sends books to me all the way from Phoenix because she loves me that much.)

After that, I took the PATH train back to New York, walked through the West Village, and hopped back on the 2 train—no rats this time.

A song for the subway

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