Friday. Finally. My exhaustion was in full power. But my Friday wasn't done after work. No no, it was time for my spirituality and religion. It was time to find a synagogue where I could thank God for the week, for this job and finally this amazing life.
The synagogue was located on 53rd St. by 2nd Ave. I knew a yellow train goes there. Shabbat service was planned to start at 6:00 pm. I left work at 5:30 since the MTA trip advisory informed me that it takes 8 mins to get there. I would be early, but not too much. Just enough time to say hello to my new Rabbi. Once again though, New York planned otherwise.
I got on the yellow line. Unlike in Prague, the yellow line has 3 trains that go different ways. My stubborn mind though thought that it goes the same way. As I am used to from Prague. So I got on a train. It was already 5:40. The yellow line trains are cleaner, more modern and have the stops on a display. The station announcements are well pronounced. I looked at the display and there was no 53rd street. However there was a 49th. I decided to get off at that one. 5:45.
I got out, orientated myself and started to walk north. I had to be close because I was just 3 blocks away. Cold wind started to slap my face. I was shaking. I reached 53rd Street. It was 5:55. Not good. But I was far away. And I just realized it. I was on 53rd and 8th Ave. I was about 20 minutes away. Nooooooo. See, the thing is, I've finally learned the streets. The lower the number the south-er you are, the higher, the more up north you are. But my mind still didn't incorporate the Avenues. And how long they were. And that the island is divided into to the West and East Side. And that you basically can't walk from one side to another in 10 minutes. I was mad at myself. It was so cold that I decided to search for the closest subway. I kept walking north because I knew I live up there and there has to be a subway that will take me home. I let my feet lead the way trying not to freeze.
I noticed Central Park in front of me and remembered from maps that there is a subway somewhere on the right side. 6:15. I reached the beginning of the park and turned right. It was like I suddenly walked into a dream. Old-fashioned light bulbs rimmed the entrances to high-rise brick apartments. Doormen stood huddled in the corners, one eye half asleep, the other aware for any town-car or limousine that might pull in. There were tourists admiring the buildings and taking pictures in front of boutiques that had precious china. The entrances were heated so you walked from cold to warmth to cold and to warmth again, slowing down at every entrance to warm up. And to sense the sweet smell of the red carpet and the flowers in the hallways. Of course my lost feet would take me to Central Park and 5th Ave. I have a lust for luxury. A gush of wind hit me from the left. I was at the end of the street and had to turn left onto the right corner of Central Park. I was back to reality.
The beginning of Central Park had many magazine and newspaper stands on the side. I didn't see a subway station close by, so I asked a man who was just closing up his stand. "Right behind that wall ma'm!" he yelled into the wind. "Right behind the wall? It's like in Alice in Wonderland..." I thought. So I turned left to enter the park. It was dark and windy and I was a bit scared. I turned my head left and saw the subway station. I was sooo happy. But my heart sank again. It was the yellow line. I had to go aaaalll the way back to the Times Square Station and then transfer to my train to go up again. I could of got off in two stops and walked for another 10 minutes, but I just couldn't.
Lidicky [people], I was home at 7:00 PM. After my walk, I decided to get groceries. Which was a bad idea because everything was falling out of my frozen hands. I came home and slammed my frozen body in bed. Never again. Never.
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