ELLEN (PART2)

It was a Tuesday morning in March, there was residual snow left on the ground from the weekend snowstorm, and I was happily if not a little nervously sitting in my office of my first professional job as a graphic designer.

I was awaiting my boss Jack Stern to come out of a weekly Tuesday morning meeting when my phone buzzed and the receptionist said that my wife was on the phone.

Grabbing the receiver TLW (The Little Woman) said that she was at the doctor’s office for her prenatal checkup and that the doctor told her to go to the hospital to have the baby. It struck me like lightning, but what to do? The boss was in a meeting; do I just go, disturb or interrupt the meeting? Everyone around me started shouting: “Just go, I’ll tell Jack, just go.”

Flying out the door, I couldn’t get my legs to move fast enough, rushing to the 53rd street subway stop to catch an E Train to Sutphin Boulevard then to the Long Island Railroad. Racing down to the subway stairs I found the train waiting, with the doors about to close. Jumping on I figured from a schedule what time the next Train out of Jamaica Station would leave, and found I was keeping it very close. I would have to race from the subway stop in Queens to the railroad station in Jamaica and hope I could make it.

Panting and weaving through the noonday crowds that flooded the streets, I climbed to the platform for the Patchogue train that was being announced as ready for departure and fortunately the trainman let me on.

Jumping off at Bay Shore to go the Southside Hospital, looking around for a cab, one sights me and I ask; “Can you take me to Southside Hospital?” “No Problem.” Oh yeah.

Hoping in the cab the driver does 20 miles an hour, picking up first: a nurse, some lady and some worker from the hospital, the ride which was maybe only 5 minutes turned into 40 minutes with all the pickups. Guess what the cabdrivers tip from me was, if you still don’t know, look in your hand right now.

Arriving at the hospital I run up to the dingy old waiting room for expectant dads and assorted lovers. I start to pace up and down the long narrow unpleasant room, overlooking a corner of the parking lot outside that harbors trashcans. Finally someone comes to me to say TLW had a baby girl, and that I could go up to see her now.

Onto the elevator I go, and across the hall in another bank of elevators, comes out my little girl, in a pink blanket and looking really angry that she was ever disturbed, on her way to the baby room. I HAD SEEN FOR THE FIRST TIME A CHILD OF MY OWN, BY CHANCE!

Finding the recovery room, I looked for the most beautiful woman lying there, kissed her on the lips, and waited for her to wake out of her drugged stupor.

The moral: If your wife has a baby in Bay Shore’s Southside Hospital, bring your car to work, don’t take a cab.