Subway A, NYC

He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Behind his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat.

I sleep like a log, wake late, and hustle to the station along Canal Walk. I haven’t ever walked through Swindon and I find it pleasantly agreeable.

At Reading I switch to the RailAir bus and in no time I’m installed in a T5 lounge. I’ve got lots of work to catch up on, a few sales calls, and a discussion with some Spotify people about tomorrow’s visit.

On the plane I’m given personal treatment even though I’m flying cattle class. Could this have anything to do with the complaints I tweeted about the delay on Saturday? It seems unlikely. Anyway, I drink the nice red wine that they bring me from the front and continue working.

Getting through JFK is a breeze, getting out more of a hassle. AirTrain (with a change), A line for 12 stops, F for 2, and a walk into Chinatown. It’s cold, with a light dusting of snow.

I pick up my keys at the deli, clamber the five stories to my apartment and get settled.