Bright Lights Underground

It’s so bright here underground in the subway, good thing you’ve got those sunglasses on. Wish I’d thought to wear mine down here, then I wouldn’t be blinded by the fluorescent lights and tunnel darkness. Sharp thinking, I can tell you’ve got your bases covered.

Now that I think of it, they probably help you read your copy of AM New York down here too. Not to mention you look great. You probably spent at least 5 minutes adjusting those Aviators just so –

8 minutes? It shows.

Oh yeah, sorry, I’ll shift over. I’d hate to be what gets between you and your reflection in the subway door. If only the glare from the track lights didn’t get in the way, it totally ruins the effect. But your hair looks great– so shiny! – I think everyone in this car would agree. If they're anything like me, they haven't been able to take their eyes off you either. I bet we’re split evenly as to whether you look better when your head is turned just slightly to the right versus when you turn it to the left. I can poll everyone, no doubt they’ll all have an opinion. I’m on the fence myself. Turn it left again. Right. Left again.

I say right, you look better when you turn your head 3 degrees to the right. It all just works then. I think you should spend the day facing 3 degrees to the right, chin pulled slightly down. Those are your best angles. We all agree.

Can you just imagine how you’d look if you didn’t take the subway every morning? What if you just had those 35 precious minutes in front of the mirror before you left your apartment! You’d be a mess! This train does wonders for you, and I’m so glad we had this time together. If I haven’t said it already, you look great, just great, really great. Those are Ray-Bans, aren’t they? Of course they are, I can see the word “Ray-Ban” in your reflection. I’m such an idiot sometimes.

Answering the Call of Duty

My grandfather fought in WWI and another in WWII. Three cousins served in the Gulf War. I’m glad each of them made it back alive and unscathed, and thankful that they, and others like them, answered the Call of Duty.

I don’t talk about this often, but I’m a veteran. Sort of. I too have answered the Call of Duty, specifically Call of Duty: Modern Warfare and Call of Duty: World at War.

Today, I’d like to reflect and remember some of the guys I proudly served with, men who patrolled beautifully rendered streets in consoles far and wide.

There was Oddbody, toughest guy you’ll ever meet. He’s 8 – 10 tops – and he’s there 2, 3 hours a night, 4 if his mother’s working late. We call him “The Latch Key Commando.”

King Lou, stationed out of Brooklyn. Wife, two kids under 4. After the family’s gone to bed he’ll slug it out in the shit until all hours of the night. If we needed something done, we could always count on King Lou.

Poopypants. A well-deserved name as every time things got frantic, you’d hear him say “I’ve got to go, I’ve got to go!” but still, good guy.

And then to those we lost…

E1987563. Helluva guy. We were both young snipers once. He was like a brother to me, probably because he was actually my brother, and we’d fight alongside one another online. Sadly, he hasn’t signed in in over 75 days….

The call went out again earlier this week, and one by one, we’re leaving our loved ones behind - who can say for how long? - and making our way back to the consoles. I made it out alive the first time, but not unscathed. Meetings are hard, I can’t walk into one without first wanting to throw a stun or frag grenade in there. You just never know what’s waiting for you on the other side of that door.

But here’s what scares me most.

Monday night, dead asleep, and a mosquito flies past my ear. Bzzzzzzzzzz. I leap up screaming “Incoming! Incoming!”

I’ve served, but at what cost?

As we observe Veteran’s Day, I’d like to thank all the men and women who have so bravely served our country. And to those who’ve answered the Call of Duty (Modern Warfare 2), time for a shower.