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eight days a week |
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| Sometimes I get to step out of myself, out of my head a bit and live in the big picture. It's in those moments of synchronicity that I feel most alive. I was on my way home from the office on Sunday night. I had spent close to nine hours just going through the monotony of making copies and transferring documents to pdf files for the website, spell checking documents and basically just letting my brain turn to mush for hours of mindless though necessary work. I trudged home after midnight making my way through cancelled trains and alternate ways of being annoyed by public transportation home. I finally found my way to Grand Central Station and plopped on a bench. I had a CRAINS in my bag and tried to read but my eyes were a little bleary and thought better of trying to concentrate on a business article and slipped the magazine back into my bag. |
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I looked over at a man standing near me who was counting up a stack of one dollar bills, he looked up and smiled, "Do you have a request?" He was obviously a musician and the open guitar case next to the bench was a slightly dead give-a-way. I shrugged and said, 'How about a Beatle tune?" He winked back. "You got it." I didn't really expect him to sing it since he went back to pick up his guitar and started playing 'Dust In The Wind' which is about as far away from Beatle-dom as anything. However, I'm fond of Kansas and I really just can't help myself, I harmonize on automatic. I just hummed the lower harmonic line and grinned to myself because I'm sure that everyone else was thinking the same thing, well some of them were anyway. It's a seventies anthem of sorts and always reminded me of Texas -- oddly enough. As I looked around, the station started to fill up now, some thirty minutes after midnight and from my guess, everyone was just as miffed at the lack of convenience doled out by the MTA at having to take alternate routes home. You could see it on their faces; things bad and people tired in the middle of the night. Then something uncommon happened. The musician started to play "Eight Days A Week". People clapped when they were supposed to, did the Ringo flam at the end of that phrase everyone knows -- it was amazing. Suddenly, the people around started to bounce and SING! I started to laugh and started to sing (John's line) with about four other people now standing next to me. For a few moments everyone was just the same; tired and a little goofy. Maybe this was their eighth day this week. But who cared, I didn't. I was happy that they were all Beatle fans. |
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