There is something drastically wrong when I break a sweat in a collared shirt and jeans jacket at 8:45am on NOVEMBER 28TH. I'm wearing October clothes during September weather and it's almost December for fuck's sake.
On a non-regionally-specific note, I often wonder where other people are going when I'm walking to work in the morning. It's ten minutes to nine. If you have a job, you have less than ten minutes to get to it. If you didn't have a job, you shouldn't be up getting in the way of us job-havers (but then again, if you didn't have a job, what the hell would you be doing up so early anyway). It boggles my mind to see people wandering around like it was a Saturday at the mall. Standing on line to stand on the sanding side of the escalator. Strolling to the turnstile, slowly getting their pass out after they get to it, strolling to the second escalator to stand on line for the standing side again. Plodding along the sidewalk waiting around for walk signs to switch.
One of the more fascinating habits that appears during the waiting for lights phase is that some of these meanderers will walk into the middle of the street to wait for the light to switch as if they are in some sort of hurry, then dawdle across the other half like they were before. The people that waited on the sidewalk for the light to switch beat them across anyway.
I can't possibly fathom where these people are going or how little regard they must hold for their destination. If you're not walking with some determination at 8:45 in the morning on a weekday, you better be over 75 years old or over 350 pounds. Otherwise, either you don't have a job, you don't care about your job or your job doesn't care about you.
Maybe everyone else in the city except my office starts at 9:30 and these people are just early.