With the new commute every day to Brooklyn College, I'm definitely becoming intimately familiar with trains and their quirks. It takes me between an hour and occasionally ninety minutes to get to classes. I now automatically check the seat for liquid, and I don't even think about trying to identify the liquid if I see it sloshing about like some mini-ocean. I am wildly fascinated by the single advertisement above my head, or the pattern on the floor, or the freckles on my arms. I am not even remotely interested in the man fishing around in his cavernous left nostril for some magic nose goblin that continues to elude him. Maybe he's discovered the sinus passage that leads directly to the pleasure center of his brain, maybe he is attempting to widen it to allow easier access for foreign objects.
I get this silly little rush whenever one of the new subway trains pulls up to the station. The bright LED display of the number, the charming voice of the man announcing "please stand clear of the closing doors!", the hand grips everywhere, the quiet air conditioning, it's pleasant. Even the beggars seem better dressed. One time whatever mechanism triggers the voice malfunctioned and his voice started rapping. PPPPPPLeaassssee Sttttttannnnnndddd grblemishericky. The fluorescent lighting in the new trains makes everyone look less pallid, something that New Yorkers need badly.
That was something I noticed in the new Spiderman film. I really enjoyed it, but everyone in the film is too tan.There are some tan people in the city, but if you want to blend in, I recommend the jaundiced look. Try to also be sixty pounds underweight. I saw the film with Nick, and Sam Raimi's creation was as enjoyable on my second viewing. I was able to watch the background this time, the buildings that I've learned to recognize in my wanderings about town. I've lived in famous cities like London, Moscow, and Lubbock (the home of Buddy Holly!), but the film reflects my feelings about this city. Every day, something happens that makes me feel like I'm living in a movie. I'm waiting for someone off stage to tell me the scene is done, I need to clear the stage. The people I meet, the conversations I share, the food I try, it all seems to be some scene in a thriller. I'm waiting for the sex scenes, but I guess my show must be G-rated.