Today was a heinous commute day. I was running late for work, my entire body could not move from my bed because of monumental pain incurred from pushing my running the night before and the weight training I started on Sunday to strengthen my quads, knees and ankles.

I ran out, and headed for the bus stop. No buses were coming because there were recent driver cutbacks and taxi's were futile because of the rain. I began the 8 block trek up to subway. A block from the subway, while waiting for the light to turn, the gentlemen in front of me turned his head to the left. I turned my head, unconciously following his line of sight. I saw a really pretty, tall woman in her late twenties with auburn hair, crossing the street carefully in gorgeous heels and an impeccable camel cashmere coat, keeping her head down because she didn't have an umbrella.

Suddenly, the man with an umbrella moved in front of me and briskly walked toward the woman crossing the crosswalk perpendicular to where we were standing.

I held my breath as I watched him move to her side, thinking I was witnessing one of those magical NY moments that makes you feel like we are brethren - like there are people left who are kind and chivalrous even as the world falls down around us.

And then he reached her and I waited for what would happen next...

She looked up at him for one moment and he...

He walked right past her. He had seen an open taxi in the yonder over her shoulder I suppose and he and his umbrella walked right past the woman and jumped into the cab.

I shook my head. It was going to be another one of those days. I walked up a block to the subway at 86th and Lex, to find that they CLOSED one of the downtown entrances. And the line to enter the subway was queued up to Park Avenue. I looked around, briefly hoping some copycat sniper would clip my shoulder and I could get a free ride midtown in an ambulance, but alas, no such luck.

As I finally approached the entrance to the subway, the Asian man next to me raised his umbrella above my head and pressed the automatic close button, so the wet umbrella snapped shut and rained the drops it had collected on my head like a personal rain shower. Thanks, Buddy.

All of this, before 9AM. Why go on, you can imagine the rest.

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