Sweaty Days and Wednesdays Always Get Me Down
Was having a fabulous day - worked out of my virtual office near Grand Central Station where I typically freeze for about five hours in a heavily air conditioned office. Then at 3:30pm, zipped over to the Plaza hotel where I got to see some of my favorite bloggers from Chicago and New York City at a fabulous event sponsored by Dyson. Incidentally, as we dined on tea sandwiches and caught up with friends, we were introduced to Dyson's latest creation - an air multiplier with no blades...amazing! We even found out we'd be receiving one to try out at home and while I was psyched by the news, I didn't think much about how it would impact my life at that moment because I was comfy cool chilling out at the Plaza.
And then I had to leave and catch my train. Did I mention I was wearing heels, a summer dress and a light sweater? I started walking and looked everywhere for a cab but sadly, they were either off duty or occupied. And so I kept walking.
In my heels.
Carrying a 40 pound purse that contained my flats, laptop computer, files, keys to my house and a few sticks of lipstick...which reminds me - I still need to get to Sephora to pick up foundation and eyeliner but that's a whole other story.
So I keep walking. And still there are no cabs in sight. I contemplate opting for a pedicab but I'm low on cash and figure I can make it there by foot as long as my train is on a decent track (anything from 35-42 will suffice). I arrive with four minutes to spare and as fate would have it, I'm on track 110 or is it track 112 or was that 114?
No matter, I run like the wind in my heels, carrying my two ton bag as I think about the havoc I'm wreaking upon my back, neck and shoulder. But I keep going. Up two flights of stairs, walk another 1000 feet, down an escalator, shoving myself through the crowd.
I get to the bottom of the escalator and I'm on autopilot. I race up to track 114 and the conductor gives me a smile. I heave a sigh of relief, hurl myself into a seat, check my emails and hurriedly get back to work.
Except it's now 6:20 and the train isn't moving yet. And so I ask the tell tale question: Am I on the right train? Well, that depends. If I had planned to take a trip to Dobbs Ferry tonight then "Yesirree Bob you have come to the right place!" But I need to get to Scarsdale. Uh oh. Wrong train!
I grab my laptop, throw it in my bag, along with my heels, fling my 4 ton purse over my shoulder and run as fast as I can. Did I mention my feet are now covered in blisters? I walk down two flights of stairs and discover my track is in what seems like Guadalajara.
And so I hoof it.
Up 75 stairs.
Trudging at least a half mile.
Dripping in perspiration.
While I began my day feeling cool and refreshed in a pretty Ann Taylor Loft sun dress, I've now morphed into a sweaty hot mess and stink to high heaven.
I finally arrive at my destination and wipe myself off with the lone napkin I grabbed from the water lady who was selling her wares next to Track 36. I collapse into my seat. Take a deep breath, flip open my laptop and start sharing my tale of woe.
And now I'm almost at my stop. The sweat rivulets have finally stopped trickling down my neck and while I still smell pretty awful if I wave my arms, I feel like a human again.
Nothing like a wrong turn to make you appreciate a fancy new fan.