Welcome to NYC!

I’m here! It’s 11 am, and my luggage and I have arrived at Penn Station. I need to head up to Washington Heights to greet the movers, so I hop on the A. A diminutive Hispanic man with a guitar gets on the train with me, and once we start moving, he announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to entertain you.” He then proceeds to start singing what I can only presume are well-known folk songs, because although I am ignorant, the woman across from me immediately joins in, the man beside me starts humming along, and several people are mouthing the words. When we get to 42nd St, however, another man gets on who is clearly not all there. He’s muttering and shouting to himself, and starts yelling, “I’m psychic! They shouldn’t have thrown me in jail. I’m psychic, man, I’m PSYCHIC!” Everyone looks a little nervous, and the man with the guitar stops playing.

Suddenly, a HUGE guy at the other end of the car stands up and says, “Dude, you ain’t psychic.” The crazy guy looks at him for a second, then hangs his head and steps back off the train. The doors close, and the guy with the guitar resumes his song mid-verse, and everyone joins in again. I am so excited to be in New York!