NY Notes: Apartment Encounters

There is a doorman in the lobby of the apartment building where I am staying. 

I’m not sure how I feel about this since I'm not accustomed to people checking in on my comings and goings.  The New Englander in me resents the very idea of being watched.

Elevator encounters are another awkward thing.

One morning a sloppily-dressed “neighbor”  peppered me with questions on the ride to the lobby.

72^nd Street was blocked off and he wanted to know why.

“What’s with the barricades up there?” he said.

“Marathon,” I said in clipped New Yorker fashion, never making eye contact.

“Runners.” He paused and looked up before continuing. “ Well, good for them, I guess. Their joints will give out eventually, though.”

Then the doors opened and he was gone.