I made it through Philadelphia, up the Jersey Turnpike, under the Lincoln Tunnel, and across midtown in one piece. All that with my grandparents in the car. I had threatened to pull it over if they didn’t buckle up, and I meant it. Then they bickered. I put on the AM radio and zoned out until I hit the Tunnel traffic back in Manhattan. At one point, as I almost hit a pedestrian in my fury to get back to my apartment in under two hours, I caught a glipse of myself in the rearview mirror and ripped across four lanes of Second Avenue. After a long weekend with my mom’s side of the family, I could see my dad’s eyes in the mirror. He was always a successful lunactic on the road. I smiled a little and reminded myself to call him. Sometimes, I am truly my father’s daughter.
Subway MapSubway Philosophy is about New York, culture, sex, publishing, memories, alcohol, or a combination of the above. Originally taken from drunken musings on the subway, it has evolved into something extraordinarily similar to most young blogs: which is to say, redundant, romantic, and woefully introspective.
Current Subway ReadingWhite Teeth