This morning, I took the crosstown bus to the train to change up my routine from the geriatric caravan I usually take to work. Bus-wise, the crosstown is awful: crowded, slow and generally not much of an improvement over walking the four long avenue blocks to the train.
What made this trip unique, other than the route, was the fact that I ran into someone I went to high school with and haven't seen since. He sat in the back with his girlfriend. We made "do I know you?" squints as he and the girl carefully munched on carrot and cranberry bran muffins (alums of my school are known for excellent digestive health).
"Hey." he said.
"Hey, [name redacted]," I responded, fishing for something to say. I know he went to [Ivy League university] and almost got engaged to someone another long-lost friend dated in 12th Grade, but beyond that, I had no clue how he had kept himself busy over the course of this century.
He's getting his MBA in the fall. He's taking a class at Columbia. He used to work for a law firm I've never heard of.
"Have you heard from X?"
"No, have you?"
"Nope. What about Y?"
"Sorry, nope."
"Well, I'm getting off here. Good to see you. Keep in touch."
With that, I left the bus, glad to stop my descent into that empty conversation vacuum. Since I've been back in town, I've been spared a lot of these; the long-losts I've seen have all been anticipated and under the influence of alcohol. However, the longer I spend here, the more of these awkward moments I'm going to have to deal with.
Editor's note: This post started out really well, then ended with a whimper. I realize that. Sorry. Traditional plot arcs will return tomorrow.
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