And now I am home, earlier than usual because I went in earlier than usual. I had to open the cigar shack. It was not easy getting out of bed and starting to move, but of course I did. A different crowd again on the bus, these early morning people are a trip.

I’m sure if I more accustomed to getting up early and going to work it wouldn’t be such a surprise. I mean, I did do that for a number of years, that now elusive Monday through Friday job. Now I go in later and it’s no longer a Monday through Friday situation.

Yesterday I was in at 10:30, today, 9:30, tomorrow 11:30 and once I close Wednesday night, I will be opening on Thursday morning. Not easy but I do get the job done. At the cigar shack it was Thomas and Jerry Vale and me. Zack was a chaperone on his kid’s class trip so he was out today. And it was slow going at the cigar shack.

Thomas and I butted heads this afternoon. It was bound to happen, he’s been in such a mood lately and I know yesterday I gave him a break, saying he had a lot on his plate. This afternoon he could have shoved that plate up his ass for all I cared.

Things got better once we talked or rather, argued but it wasn’t 100% easy after that. He bitched about a few things, about me, about Jerry Vale. I give Jerry Vale some slack since he’s going through some difficult times himself and if he needs to take a couple of minutes for a quick snack, I say let him. I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich during the day and it certainly helps me a lot.

I tell you, that Thomas is no Juan, no Corinne. No, he’s a very old 25 year old. Such an old man, he’s older than me & Jerry Vale and we’re the oldest employees at the cigar shack. I don’t know how that works, or how it will work when he gets older.

As my day ended I started to crash. So tired despite having a banana for energy. I thought about walking to the bus terminal tonight, but was too tired so I opted for the subway. I got to the terminal in no time and found myself at the end of a queue. We moved along eventually.

There was a woman about four or five heads ahead of me, struggling with two rolling suitcases. The four or five heads in between me and the woman just stared. I looked and saw no one else ahead of the suitcase woman so I asked one of the people staring if they minded if I helped her out. They didn’t mind so I took one suitcase and we ascended the stairs. I then helped her on the bus and took a seat.

Michael Hill, super nice guy, sat next to me. He’s a friend from Maxwells and we chatted about a documentary he saw last night, How to Survive a Plague. It’s about ACT UP, a group that I supported and protested with outside of St. Patrick’s Cathedral a number of times. Michael was moved by the documentary and Bill and I hope to see it when it gets a release later this year.

ACT UP was the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power. Silence = Death. We were loud and disruptive since our friends, families and lovers were dying. Wouldn’t you do the same after having to change your friend’s diaper as he lay in his own waste while the nurses stood in the hallway making jokes and rude comments on the ill patient dying a few feet away?

It’s been one of those days, I guess.

the queue for the bus