A View to a Kill

The view from our current apartment is pretty amazing. The Williamsburg Bridge, in all its rigged-to-not-collapse glory, stands triumphantly, perhaps even majestically, over The East River with the buzz of Manhattan illuminating it from behind. This same bridge aids in the J,M,Z lines’ efforts to shuttle me to and from Brooklyn to downtown everyday, as it carries the trains up and over the river, before diving back down into the island’s underbelly. In the evenings, if my wife is home already, I can see into our illuminated unit – the distance between me on that train and the unit itself is probably a good two football fields in length, and in reality you can’t make out much other than the four small hanging lamps over the kitchen counter, but the imagination can fill in the rest. Is Ariele busy cooking dinner? How exciting! Is that her putting the finishing touches on yet another amazing furniture restoration project? Can’t wait to see it! Oh wait, is there someone else in the house with her? Why is he wearing a mask? Is she being attacked right now – and in the most evil of ironies I’ve managed to grab the crawling city sewer that just happens to put me on the part of the bridge that allows me to see it go down at the very time that it does – sans cellphone, and with no way to alert anyone whatsoever? Can I get off the train, and scale down some maintenance staircase in time to prevent this from happening or will pulling the train emergency break ultimately leave me trapped here to watch the entire thing play out through squinted eyes, witness to a painfully real version of the first five minutes of a Law and Order SVU episode? I’ve considered taking the L train, which travels under The East River, further north, and offers no view of our apartment – which would only lessen the chances a bit that I’ll spend a few minutes of my nightly commute crafting that same basic narrative. It would add a considerable amount of time to my journey home though. Hmmm, maybe some mini-blinds are in order.

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