Homeward Bound Again

The below post is something I wrote over two years ago. I hate to repost old thoughts, but some things are worth repeating.

There is usually only one good thing about working late: the car ride home. Most days I leave the office around 7:00 pm and take the subway up to GCT to catch the commuter train home. On a good day, it’s a one-hour trip from the time I leave my office to when I walk into my apartment door. But one of the few perks about working at a law firm in Manhattan is the car service provided if you have to stay in the office past 9:00 pm. I guess the rationale behind providing a Lincoln Towncar to shuttle around its lawyers to the suburbs is that it’s a safer, faster way to get them home. But of course, it’s the client that ends up paying for it.

The few times I have had to take a car home recently have been because I was at work until 11:00 pm or beyond, a time when the traffic on this over-congested island has finally subsided. Given where I live, the quickest route home from lower Manhattan is to take the FDR Highway along the East River until it reaches the TriBorough Bridge, connecting us to the Bronx. Once I give the foreign driver my address, his computer leads us home, leaving me with time to relax in the backseat of the luxury car. Although I don’t mind my commute, the train I take daily is not always the most relaxing means of transportation. As such, it’s nice to be able to put on some Brian Culbertson or other Smooth Jazz and watch the lights of the City fly by on my left and the views of Brooklyn and Queens on my right. In the hustle and bustle of my everyday commute, I don’t often have an opportunity to appreciate the size and beauty of the great City of New York. In many ways it is an engineering masterpiece, at least when looked at as a whole. To think that the colony of New Amsterdam has become what it is today in 400 years is impressive. It’s toughness and refiner’s fire drew me here.

Yet, there are times during the MTA delays that I wonder why I am in fact here. And it is in the car ride home, along the East River, that I remember. I have lived in other locations, and New York too, one day, will be a memory to me. But with the light dancing across the river from the outer Boroughs to meet me in Manhattan, I know why at this point in life I am here. I am home.

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