The wonders of commuting

Well, I have to say that yesterday, Monday, April 16, 2007, was a little too Armageddon-themed for my liking. It's hard to know anymore what's going to happen next in these unstable times and it's all just a little too consuming. But one thing that's nice is that there will always be life's refreshing trivialities to take us away from the more serious madness, and people are amazingly resilient, able to resume their daily atrocious habits and ridiculous behaviors subsequent to even the most monumental of tragedies. Sure enough, my morning commute into the city was so delightfully typical:

1) Sleepwalk to bus stop, receive catcalls from Mexicans in truck on the way, attempt to cross street in the crosswalk and narrowly avoid near-death experience from approaching car with allegedly broken brakes.
2) Board bus to work. Gaze around for empty seats and find none available due to full occupancy. Hang on for dear life as the bus driver who apparently has a license winds through streets of Hoboken. Make mental note that chivalry is dead as men aboard the bus stay happily seated and watch with a reserved pity this frazzled-looking curly haired girl attempt to not spill the contents of her bag and her sanity all over the bus floor.
3) Arrive at Port Authority. Scene is remniscent of the running of the bulls in Pamplona, except I think the bulls are nicer.
4) Walk down to subway station, catapulted backwards while attempting to board the E train. Watch man dive into packed subway before it pulls away. His jacket is caught in the door and hey, he might not make it to the next station, but at least he didn't have to wait 2 minutes for the next train.
5) Arrive at desired E train stop. Escalators broken, or more like someone just didn't feel like turning them on. Everyone, elderly and youth alike, must climb the 500 stairs standing between the subway station and the outside world. I keel over at the top while the elderly whiz by me.
6) Almost to the subway exit, but first must artfully dodge line-up of advertisers, solicitors and representatives of the AM Metro newspaper. No I do not want a haircut, eyebrow threading, pizza, or religious conversion all before the hour of 9 am.
7) Exit subway station, enter work location, commute complete.

Why am I so exhausted--didn't the work day just begin?