...My first counseling job was in a small outpatient clinic in Far Rockaway Beach. I commuted there from Manhattan on the A train. The trip took me through Brooklyn and past the stop for the JFK air train -- then over marshes and salt water bogs with houses on stilts and further still over a trestled bridge until finally, almost two hours later, the train arrived at Far Rockaway Beach.
The clinic was on the second floor of a small commercial space, just a few blocks away from the subway station. The agency windows faced a strip of storefronts and fast food diners. In the afternoons the heavy oily smell of Kentucky Fried chicken crept into the back offices through the ventilation system.