One of the coldest nights of the year. Day after the big snowstorm. White turning to gray with every footstep. Get home, just get home, the five passengers on the Q32 silently pray as the bus creeps along. Red light at Roosevelt and 69th, El Sitio Restaurant on the right. What's that on the TV screen above the counter? Can you make it out? Green and brown bands below a blue wall. Goddamn, it's a baseball game. Who knows where it's coming from. Cuba? The D.R.? Still almost two weeks until the Superbowl, a reminder that this too will pass. Baseball, like some migratory bird (oriole? blue jay? cardinal?) will make its way north again.
(Sadly, El Sitio, has replaced its great old marquee, below, though not its tiny TVs. It's still Cochina Criolla 100%.)