The city is cold and wet this morning, the snow a stark turnaround from the mild weather of the previous week. But the rhythms of the city are unchanged, the general tenor of the subways no more aggravated than any other Monday.
The newspaper salesman on 15th and Park has retreated from his usual corner to a dry spot by the subway staircase. He takes my $10 bill without complaint. “See you tomorrow,” he says with a genuine smile, recognizing me, expecting my return, even though I only buy from him one or two days per week.
The breakfast cart on 33rd and 9th has a big cooler atop its front wheels, filled with juices and water on ice. I buy a Tropicana and a buttered egg roll; I don’t usually buy juice from a cart, so I have to ask, “How much?” The two people inside grin and say, “First time shopping here?” I say yes, and one says, “Oh! Then take a donut, on us, any one you like. Welcome!” I decline the pastryâ”Get out of here, you’re gonna make me fat”âand the other vendor gives me a free banana instead. “See you soon!” they say as I depart, sheepishly, breakfast and freebie in hand. And indeed they will.
The snow has stopped and the clouds are lightening. At lunch I will try and become a regular at the local deli.