200 Napkins

Feels like I’ve spent more time in the city than I have in Red Bank, lately. So much so, that, Lefty, my cat, spends about 10 minutes sniffing me when I get home instead of clamoring for food. Guess he likes the leftover aroma of papaya dogs, diesel, hot pretzels, dirty water dogs and the incidental contact of walking amongst thousands of people a day. Not to mention Penn Station. Today was especially cool. Hot, actually. 80 degrees, so there was a mass of female estrogen punctuating the streets in the form of hot mini skirts, tight T’s, legs, boobs, cleavage, belly buttons, hip bones and ultra friendly smiles.

I caught the 7:34 out of Red Bank and walked out of Penn Station a tad after 9:00. When I hit the street, it was like walking into a blast furnace. I’m used to wearing one, if that, layer of clothing to cover my bod on hot days. Today I had a t-shirt, heavy cotton starched Brooks Brothers shirt (French fuckin blue), tie and jacket. And heavy cotton dress chinos. And, believe it or not, shoes and socks. I decided to walk, to gauge the commute again (3rd time to same building, building up a clinically-viable test time). By the time I got to the Empire State Building, the halfway point, I was awash in sweat. And when going on an interview, that sucks.

Got to the Daily News Building and decided to not rush to enter. Went to the coffee shop next door, bought a Gatorade and used about 200 napkins to mop my flop sweat. Having sufficiently chilled, I lurched head on into the soaring skyscraper. From there on, things went well. I hope.