Back in New York City I have decided to cool it with Wolf so I'm off to meet some friends at Grand Central Station which has a large number of restaurants, several I'm quite fond of and haven't been to since getting with Wolf. Unfortunately being without Wolf means I'm back on the subway (which is not altogether bad since it's reliable, unlike Wolf who typically forgot where he parked his car because it was often towed). Taking the train is far less taxing than spending hours in the pound, I rationalize as I'm standing on the platform already thinking of what delicious meal I'm going to order.  My thoughts of Faux Gras are interrupted when I hear the roar of the oncoming train. Like the others on the platform, I take a involuntary step backwards and put my thoughts aside as survival instinct starts to take over.

Stepping onto the number 4 train after being brushed aside by the descending riders I look around and spot the three-quarter seat which would be a full seat if the guy sitting in the neighboring seat closed his legs instead of spreading them wide open thereby encroaching on the spaces next to him on both sides.  No issue for me, I know what to do.

I politely pardon my maneuvering through the standing passengers who are too intimidated, or too fat, to try to claim the seat I am eyeing.  Soon as I reach my destination, I look at the young man with the spread legs and say out loud, "excuse me." Then, without waiting more than an instant for a response, I turn around and plant my size 4 derierre into the partial seat brushing my thighs into the thighs of the young man.  Despite being trim by most standards I am keenly aware of my butt's size thanx in part to my kids who have taken to calling my butt a double bubble (in reference to a little extra cellulite which has recently appeared).  No matter, with my professional training reinforced by perfect test scores I know I have excellent spacial skills thus I have not forced too much junk into the trundle's trunk. I am about to open my the newpaper handed to me moments early when suddenly the young man turns his face into mine.

"I'm going to fuck you up, bitch," he states loud enough stirring the other riders to look on.  Without any hesitation I have my retort ready, "Really? Cause if you so much as lay a grimy finger on me I'm going to pull the alarm and have the transit police hall you straight to jail. Still think you want to mess me up?" Before the nasty young man has a chance to answer I then continue on, now looking around to the other onlooking riders, "I don't know why some hoodlums think they can attempt to threaten educated and well mannered, civilized decent folk. So don't look at me like I'm the problem. Send your non-approving stares to the nuts who attempt to usurp your rights." With that said several people actually voice up with "yeahs" who I nod at in a manner to indicate my thanx for their support.  As I'm looking around I notice several other young men straighten themselves in their seats while closing their legs.

Just as I'm about to resume standard subway form, isolating myself into the confines of the newspaper I was going to read minutes earlier, another voice interrupts.  The woman sitting on the other side of the young man suddenly slaps him aside his head (I notice an engagement ring on her hand). "Why you always have to start up?" she says as the train comes to a halt.  She gets up from her seat and stands over the still seated young man with her hands firmly planted on her hips. The young man gets up and with his head lowered moves towards the train's door.  Before she follows him out, she turns to me looking directly into my eyes.  She apologizes to me for his "being a jerk." I am somewhat surprised, but tell her all's ok even though I'm thinking how sad it must be to live with him.  As the rumbling of the train resumes I realize I am one stop away from my Faux Gras. I am happy again.

I tell my friends over lunch about my travel ordeal. "You always have drama," is one comment coming ironically from a woman who's had more severe problems in all her relationships which trump anything I could so much as even imagine, no less write. "Our society is a breeding ground for selfishness," is another comment I do not relate to.  I remind my girlfriend that living in a city is much about fighting for survival and suggest that perhaps she'd be happier in the country.  She offers several reasons for being in the city citing the golden handcuff theory while she's "searching for Mr. Right" even though she's been searching for over a decade.  Both these women have deep routed issues, so without the ability to really be of help, I change the subject until one brings up Wolf.  "Will you go back to him?" They want to know an answer I don't have.  I try to explain that his ADD is just more than I can sometimes handle.  I try to explain that I've been trying to be understanding of his handicap. I try to explain that if he would consistently take his meds perhaps the situation would be different. I tell them I've tried to show him how much better off he is in all his relationships when he takes his meds. Unfortunately he's one of the large number of mentally ill who refuse to accept that taking the meds is the only way for him to remain within a range of normal behavior. My friends nod in agreement, but I know they don't really understand.  I change the subject to current weekend plans (a far happier topic).  Thankfully the waiter appears. I am glad to ask for the check and get back to the other things I have to do including getting to the gym. 

As I step back onto the uptown number 4 train I luck into an empty seat and quickly place my double bubble into it.  I can hardly believe it when a tall, young, thin woman moves in front of where I am sitting and says, "I was going to sit there." Where she came from I really don't know, I move quickly especially after I mark my target.  "So, you'll have to sit elsewhere," I retort removing my newpaper from my bag. "But I'm pregnant," she replies. I look up, she moves sideways exposing her profile. Indeed there's a small bump; it's a trump card and civic duty, I give up my seat.  No sooner does she sit down when I notice that the man next to her puts his arm around her shoulders. I am completely dumbfounded - her baby's daddy was sitting in the seat next to me instead of giving that seat to his pregnant mate?  I let it go though I am stunned all the way home.

I walk into my apartment immediately greated by my sister's adorable shitzu who I am dog sitting for.  Kukula is circling, jumping around calling me to play with her.  I put my hand down to pet the dog's head and am met with her warm licks.  I put down my bag and move to the sofa with the shitzu following closely behind. She jumps up onto the sofa and directly into my lap. I pet her enjoying the softness of her coat.  She seems very content as she immediately relaxes.  I can't help but thinking how the basic needs of an animal is exactly the same as with people who all too often don't receive even minor amounts of TLC. I am tempted to call Wolf, but know it's best not to realizing he can get TLC elsewhere, it does not have to come only from me.  Suddenly the phone rings.  I get an eerie feeling it could be Wolf so I let the answering machine take the call.  "Ms. Rosen, we found your business card case under your lunch table. We will keep it safe for you until you can get here to pick it up."

I don't know  how I lost the card case other than it may have been knocked out of my bag while I rummaged for my lipstick after lunch but the bigger issue was I had to prepare myself for another forray into the bowels of the city.  No matter, it was not reason enough to call Wolf.