serendipity-doo-da

There are only three paths I take to work in the morning: subway, subway, walk five blocks; subway, subway, underground tunnel into my building (needless to say, I did not see the sun much this winter); and good old fashioned walking through The Park. Oh, and when I'm really ridiculously hungover and sleep through the alarm I'll take a cab. Today, however, was different. The unfamiliar presence of sunlight this morning tricked me into thinking it would be warm enough to wear a skirt and flipflops. Unfortunately, the 40 degree air kept me underground all the way to Grand Central, where I would normally proceed to the tunnel. But it was just so purty outside that I decided to shake things up a bit and go through the Metlife building, which is two blocks from the office--short enough distance to retain the feeling in my legs, long enough to remind myself that there exists light of a non-flourescent variety.

I emerged from the building facing a tall, lanky boy with a Jewfro handing out free copies of the Financial Times. One look at his feet--grey New Balance running shoes--and I recognized him instantly. I "dated" the boy (let's call him Jacob, because that's his name) on and off for about a year in college. He was always off on some bike trip across the country or a trip to Mexico or god knows what else, so it was never a full-blown relationship. At least that's what he said until he got a real girlfriend at the end of said year.

Anywho, of all the quasi-relationships I've had (and I've had enough to swear off boys forever about eight times), this has been the one that stuck--the one that proved itself to be more than an initial physical connection that fizzled when it became clear there was nothing behind it. Nevertheless, given Jacob's free-spirited nature, I hadn't heard from him in months. So I went up to him and burst out laughing, partially because it was just so surprising and, and at the same time, not at all surprising to see him there, and partially because he was wearing a dorky Financial Times fleece baseball cap and trying unsuccessfully to get the dudes with suits and zhuzhed hair to take the paper.

As a pretty logical, scientific thinker, I don't buy into religion or spirituality or fate or any of that, and I know how to recognize a good old coincidence, but isn't it just so goddamn weird that the one day I veer from my usual path, I run into an elusive friend on a two-hour, one time temp job? And it's all just so typically Jacob. Anyway, turns out he's been accepted to grad school in NYC (yay!) and is continuing to drive a rickshaw (clearly, I'm not exactly a gold-digger) in Midtown until the fall. So if you see a skinny, pretty-eyed, fluffy-haired boy hauling some tourists around behind a bicycle, throw him a buck or two so he can buy dinner instead of stealing olives from the cart at Fairway.