Free Write Number Two

Fifteen miles away from “the big apple” the green road sign says. You look out the windshield and see the most magnificent skyline. It disappears for a little while. You enter the Lincoln Tunnel. Everything is dimply lit and you don’t know what to expect next. The tunnel ends. Suddenly you can’t see the tops of buildings unless contorting your head and neck to look out he car window. Three nuns cross in front of you; a man pushing a hot dog cart hollers out prices of goodies he is selling; a battered woman sits propped up against the doorway of a church holding a styrofoam cup. Yellow cars dart each other and pedestrians, honking their horns in almost an angry manner. This place is totally different from your hometown where there are cows grazing in the fields and there is always a perfect blanket of fresh tobacco in the air.

You walk down a flight of concrete stairs, everything is quiet compared to the world going on up above. Over on the wall there is a map of colorful lines and seemingly random placed white dots. This is the key to getting from uptown to downtown...but it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Luckily a handsome business man catches your confusion signals and explains what to do. The subway comes, blowing your hair straight back and causing you to lose your balance for a split second. Men with briefcases and women with fancy designer bags, all dressed in black with the exception of a few file off and you enter. Of course there isn’t a seat. Before you can grab the sliver pole or stabilization device the train is off pushing you into the group of people who were able to grab hold of the pole. You can’t help but to laugh at your self to your self. Four more stops, three more, two more, next stop. You exit through the open doors with several others. Now what do you do? This is the city that never sleeps and where anything can happen.