Susan

New NYers arrive weekly, so at this point it’s a matter of giving up the stacks to make room for the new ones. Sometimes I feel guilty reading a new NYer because I haven’t read the back issues yet.

Qualifier: these are all sometimes situations – lest I sound like a nut.

That said, sometimes I want to shake my fist
—at my students,
—at the C train subway conductor who shuts the door of the C train just as I’m running across the platform from the A train,
—at the mail carrier who squashes too much mail in the box so I rip it getting it out
—at the bookstore manager who forgets to order my class’s textbooks,
—at my favorite Thai restaurant for being closed on Wednesdays…

I’ll probably add to this. A son-of-43 things list, I guess. It does feel good.

In 1965 I turned 21 and found myself at the Oktoberfest in Germany (the end of a long summer of hitching around Europe). I remember Australians being drunker than I’ve ever seen anyone, diving into the crowds from a platform and being whisked off by ambulances to emergency rooms. And I remember great big “frau” carrying what seemed to be a dozen mugs of beer at a time, knocking people aside with the mugs to clear the way. And I remember laughing nonstop.

Well worth it if you’re 21.