Misty

I always get to the subway station when the local entertainment is singing Misty. His steel guitar is accompanies by his sweet, lofty voice that cuts through the rumbling of the express trains. Recently, he’s starting bringing a friend along to play the sax. It’s a very nice arrangement.

His rendition is fine as cherry wine, and certainly I have no cause to complain, but I would appreciate a little variety. I feel like hit the subway station at slightly different times every day. A series of events – how many miles I run on the treadmill, if there’s hot water in my building, how many friends puppy runs into in the park, how interesting the top news stories are on Morning Edition, how I wear my hair down or up, if it’s one of the mornings I get the New York Times – dictate whether I get to the subway station at 7:42 or 8:35 or sometime in between.

Yet despite the variance of the minute hand, the song is always the same…Misty. Is this an uncanny coincidence? Do I just happen to hit him during Misty every day? Or do I perhaps inspire him in some way? When he sees me, is he compelled to breakout into Misty? Or does he just play one song? Is it possible to earn a living in New York City, the most expensive, expansive city in the country, off a single rendition of Misty?

Apparently, it is.

I guess I’ll just continue to enjoy this entertainment as part of the steady rhythm and routine of my mornings in the city. What else can I do? Cry about it? Now here I go….getting misty….