The World Series is keeping most New Yorkers at home, glued to their televisions. But those who aren't sitting on the edge of their couches are at sports bars throughout the city, screaming at the Phillies and patting each other on the back, congratulating one another for being Yankees fans.
It's hard not to check the New York Times online to keep track of the games, even if you don't follow baseball--the excitement in the air is contagious. But in my neighborhood I don't have to check the computer to know how the game's going. One of the barber shops on St. Nicholas Street boasts a large flat-screen tv which hangs in the window, facing the street. Groups of men huddle around the shop front in the cold for the whole game, watching the tv from the sidewalk intently. When I hear happy shouting from time to time, I know the Yanks are doing well. When I hear a sudden explosion of boisterous cheering towards the end of the night, I know they've won again.
Tonight is completely quiet. The computer tells me that the Phillies won; the Series will go to seven games.
Work has been completely dead because of the World Series. So dead in fact that Chris went home early on Sunday night and Fernando, with nothing to do, carved a kick-ass pumpkin. It took him an hour and three minutes. I timed him and chronicled his progress with my camera. Obviously, it was a very, very, very slow night.
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