Any of these titles will do for this post.
With the subtitle: Philly day trip
I rolled out of bed at 4:15 on Saturday morning. Was one of those mornings when I looked in the mirror and saw that I had slept in such a way that my hair was looking good. I considered forgoing a shower and getting ten more minutes of sleep, but then I smelled the bod and determined that she needed a rinse. She got it and then I packed myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and carried my bike out of my apartment.
My neighbor Joe was smoking a cigarette on the steps outside of our building. “What are you doing up at this hour?” I asked in a motherly tone. “Cute boys,” he said and grinned. His Friday night hadn’t ended by the time my Saturday morning began.
I pedaled down to Union Station. I had never been out at this hour in DC. I saw a real life super obvious prostitute. Mesh body suit over black bra and underwear. A car stopped to talk to her. He didn’t want what she was offering or she wouldn’t do what he was asking for. He drove away. I continued on my way. I locked my bike up at Union Station. There was a man in a maroon t-shirt sleeping on top of the concrete barricades that surround the bike racks to prevent cars from hitting the bikes. I bet the concrete was cool in contrast to the hot air.
I got on the 5:25 train bound for Philadelphia. I was on my way to a conference for law librarians. I observed that I really didn’t feel anything about the trip. No nervousness, no anticipation, no excitement. Nothing. Does this mean that I’ve chosen the wrong career path? No – I think it means that I’ve chilled a bit and come to realize all is well and will most likely continue to be so. Also, I think the itinerary I devised for myself might have tempered any enthusiasm about the day. Super early train there and super late train home. I was just hoping to make it through the day.
Train ride was lovely. Nice sunrise, views of the water, and a few more bites of sleep.
Morning conference sessions were fine. Mostly fluff, but good to meet people in my field. These were all newer law librarians like myself. At several points during conversations with job-seekers, I said to myself about myself “You are one lucky mofo.” Nothing else can make you appreciate the job that you frequently complain about like meeting a bunch of young, smart, nice people who would like to have your job. Also, several of the conversations started with compliments to me on my hair. I had to bite my tongue from bragging that I woke up with it like that.
There was a speed networking portion of the morning. It wasn’t terrible. At one point, I was talking to a young woman with orange-ish lipstick on her face, only some of which was on her lips. She mentioned something about a dog. It didn’t appear like this rotation of the speed networking was going to end soon so I asked her what kind of dog even though the answer to that question is always either something that I have never heard of or something that I can’t picture. There was a lot of noise around us, and she misheard the question and went into a long story about a why she wanted to be a law librarian which for some reason involved a story about trapping a rat or a bat in a box and I stopped listening but kept nodding and smiling and thinking about how if I ever start to lose my hearing I might not always ask people to speak up.
Then all of us new librarians boarded a tour bus and took a tour of Philadelphia, which was also surprisingly not terrible. In triple digit temps, seeing a city by tour bus is forgivable, right?
Then I found myself with three and half hours to kill before dinner but absolutely no desire to be out in the heat. I went to Reading Terminal Market and bought some of my favorite red licorice and a packet of pickling spices. Then I went to Macy’s for air conditioning and a toilet.
The tour guide had mentioned that there is a large pipe organ inside the Macy’s. I slowly made my way through the store up the escalators to the third floor where the bathrooms are located. On my way back down, I saw a sign that said there would be a concert at 5:30. Lovely. I found a nice spot in the shoe department, pulled out a book, and waited for the concert to begin. It was quite nice. I stayed in the shoe department reading for about a half hour after the concert ended.
I met up with librarians with whom I had worked last summer for a lovely dinner in honor of one of the librarians who had received an award for community service. I left the restaurant at 10 pm with the honoree and another librarian and we headed out to catch the 10:30 pm train back to DC.
On the train ride home, I was overcome with gratitude. Gratitude that all is well. Gratitude for the opportunities that I’ve had in DC. Gratitude that life has shown me once again that although we rarely know what’s coming next, the chances are quite high that whatever it is, it will be good. Gratitude for a good haircut. Gratitude was followed by drowsiness, and I slept the rest of the way to DC.
The women who took the train with me both offered me a ride home and then gasped when I thanked them but said that I would ride my bike; it’s a short ride; I have lights and a helmet. I assured them that I would be safe and we parted ways. I left Union Station and stepped out into the night. It had been pitch black when I left my bike there in the morning and it was pitch black when I returned. The man in the maroon t-shirt was there in the exact same spot. I rode home and when I pulled up to my building I was hoping Joe would be out front, but he wasn’t. That would have made for a pleasingly symmetrical day.
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