atypical morning

After waking from a dream where my mother turns out to have decided not to tell me that I had a baby when I was three years old, the morning didn't seem off to a particularly stellar start.

But then I got a seat on the subway. That's right - on the L, in the morning rush. I know! (Granted, this was after two people pushing me out of the way to get on the first train, which never has happened, despite the fact that I'd been there longer, having just missed the previous train. Where is your Commuter Etiquette, W'burgers? Where is your shame?) But the seat. Yes.

Getting off the train, there was an unusually high number of cops supervising the platform. I looked at the one by the nearest stairs, doing a quick body language check to see if I should perhaps consider another path, and got a bit more reassurance than expected or necessary.

Cop: An angel walks before me.
Me: Dude. [Begins skirting a bit in approach to stairs.]
Cop: You look like, "They know not what they do."
Me: You've got me there. [And we have stairs.]

I'm assuming the fact that I was bundled nella mode 'Inuit' left only my face as a definable shape, and that most of that bundling was eggshell/feathery white, had more to do with this impression of said officer's. Wings? Halo? Under my Northface, and I do mean my North Face.

Then crossing the street, an old man was almost pacing me despite pulling a massive wheeled suitcase. The peripheral eyeball noticed he had, however, gotten stuck on the curb. The deeply (self-)ingrained from childhood "Help those who are weaker" kicked in, so I halted and turned. Eye contact - point blank. Up came his suitcase, but he was so pleased to see someone had been willing to help him, that I was showered with praise. I walked off translating all this into a whelming sentiment of, "Being not a complete asshole made his day. That's nice."

And then I came into work.