My Morning Adventures

Our overworked freelancer, Varun, takes a minute to appreciate the joys of his morning commute.

Every morning on my commute to work, I have the great fortune of walking through central Harlem, from Lenox Avenue to St. Nicholas. In New York, little every day practices like the trek to work bring a sense of familiarity that help make an otherwise foreboding city seem like home. For me, the 10 minute walk to the A train is rarely unpleasant, sometimes educational, and always entertaining. This morning was no exception.

During the first few blocks of my journey, I encountered the usual cast of characters, like a scene from the iconic Spike Lee joint, "Do the Right Thing". On 128th and Lenox was Harlem’s resident sage, an old, seemingly homeless man armed with colorful sidewalk chalk which he uses to create powerful messages to the youth like “Your mind is a treasure chest -- and a book is the key!”. On 126th, I get my morning musical fix from the man who plays swinging jazz tunes on his keyboard religiously every day (when it’s not raining).

Then, there is the military man who patrols the streets every day on the corner of 125th and Lenox in the same set of army fatigues, carrying a pair of binoculars to keep a close eye on the city. As I approach the Apollo Theater, I see another familiar face; a girl who commutes in the opposite direction at approximately the same time as me every day (depending on where our paths cross along 125th, I can figure out how late I am for work).

The death of Micheal Jackson has brought even more intrigue to this area around the Apollo in the form of well-wishers, mourners, and opportunists. And this morning, as I passed the makeshift memorial and the vendors hawking MJ memorabilia and blasting his tracks from their jam boxes, I caught a glimpse of a new sight that was so good I felt I needed to share it with you all: Heading toward me by the corner of 125th and Frederick Douglass was an older women walking with a cane. She had a big belly, but was definitely too old to be pregnant, yet on her t-shirt she scrawled in blue marker: “Micheal’s Baby in my Belly”. I’m assuming she was referring to the recently departed King of Pop, making this possibly one of the most bizarre tributes to the man, and certainly one of the most disturbing. It was just further proof that Harlem is one of the best places to be for a fascinating morning stroll.