Back Seat on the '79

(Note: This piece was written Sunday afternoon.)

It was a weekend of first-times-in-a-long-times for the Glass Man. It all started with a decision to get going on the GMAT already. Inspired by Y2K legends Sippy Momo and Nails, I realized it was time to position myself for business school. That decision having been made, I agreed to a diagnostic test at 8:30am on the Upper East Side.

We spent the weekend at my parents' house on the Upper West Side, the better to maximize sleep and get to the testing site on time. Saturday morning, the alarm set for 7:00am, I woke early and plodded my way across town.

I hadn't been up and 'atem (sp?) that early on a Saturday in a very long time, and from the look of things that morning, I'm not alone on that one. Indeed, if the city ever sleeps, it does so right around 7:30am on Saturday morning.

Winded after sprinting up Broadway to 81st and Amsterdam -- I'd seen the bus pull away from 79th and Broadway -- I caught a seat on the M79 and headed for my diagnostic GMAT. It was the first test I'd taken in almost four years.

When it was over I strolled out of the building, feeling good. My score won't be great, but none of the material intimidates me; I'm confident that with a little studying and some more tests under my belt I'll get the hang of it.

I'd hoped to walk home through the park afterward, but outside, a shock of late January cold was in the air, belying the sunny, clear blue sky above us. I walked up 79th past that massive, anatomically correct cat, past Nails' parents' place, and got back on the M79.

Tonight we cap it all off with a trip to Madison Square Garden for the Killers concert. As I write this, I just got word from Sip that he's going too, so it'll be nice to see him.

It'll be the second time I've seen the Killers live. The first time was late October 2006. It was a Saturday. I remember it because we'd bought the tickets months in advance, before the playoff schedule had been announced, before it appeared possible the Mets might be playing in Game 1 of the World Series that evening.

For a while, gloriously, it looked like we'd have to sell the tickets, but fate intervened and that never happened. Instead, by the time the lights went up on the Killers, they had already gone down on the Mets.

At the time, I was some kind of depressed. But I remember distinctly how, between songs, every now and then I'd hear that old familiar cheer... "Jo-se! Jose-Jose-Jose!" ... and how much that cheered me up. There were other people in the crowd in the same place as I was; still upset by how things had ended, still appreciative of what we'd been given.

But here we are today; another cold, winter's weekend is behind us, and we're all one step closer to baseball. And it occurs to me now that the first-time-in-a-long-time that I'm looking forward to more than any other is collapsing on my couch, turning on the tube and having baseball back on the screen.

- A.F.O.M.G.