Rituals

I've always liked the phrase "creatures of habit." I suspect I'm not alone in my affinity for comforting daily routines. Every morning, I leave my apartment at 8:00 a.m., taking the same route to the subway station. I then get the same free newspaper from the guy who stands in exactly the same spot Monday through Friday. I take the expess train (always, as long as it's running) to Grand Central station, where I muscle my way up the stairs, fighting passed the throngs of commuters coming into the city. I proceed to the newstand, where I drop a whole quarter on the New York Post (not being a morning person means I cannot read a New York Times caliber paper without 8-10 hours of sleep).

With two largely gossip-driven papers under my arm, I get on my train. Most days, I wind up in the same car on the train (which is mostly subconscious, human-experiment type stuff - I don't actually pay attention to where I'm going, but after a while you notice these things). I definitely make an effort to get the same seat within the train car. All the commuters seem to have their favorite seats, and we reserve the right to mumble irritably under our breath if some non-daily traveler has the nerve to get their first and swipe our seats.

After settling into my seat, I read my papers, then put my IPod headphones in my ear and crank up the volume for the walk from the train station to the office. If you've found this post boring, you're not alone. I was bored just writing it. The monotonous life of the train commuter is mind-numbing. This, of course, explains why so many of us read trashy celebrity gossip magazines or flock to the bar car/beer stand to make the whole thing more interesting.