I didn't write in October or November! Yikes. I'm back.
7:50am
Bright sun, blue sky (welcomed weather after this past weekend's snow storm, then rain fall).
The Bronx. 36 degrees.
Metro North to Grand Central
After unsuccessfully trying to buy a south-bound, one-way Metro North card because the machine wouldn't accept my cash, I said my good-byes to my lovely boyfriend who accompanied me to the station and boarded the 8:12am train with the understanding that I'd have to buy an $11 ticket from the conductor.
Once the conductor with a thick 70s ballplayer mustache sauntered up to my row, I explained the machine was broken and I'd have to buy my ride from him. He looked down at me and said, "Well, maybe we can work something out. How much've you got?"
He had a clear view into my wallet and the fat $20 that stared back at him.
I said, "I mean...I've got the money, it's just..."
He quickly said, "Ok then."
I sighed and was about to bring out the $20 when the conductor said, "Or, you could buy a $5 off-peak ticket from her." He pointed to the woman sitting next to me who was holding an unused ticket.
I looked at her, then at her ticket. I looked back at the conductor. He looked at me. He looked at the woman. Then, a little old lady sitting in the aisle across from me piped up, "Buy the ticket from her, sweetheart!"
So, I did and thanked her profusley. She said, "No problem, any time."
I thought that was sweet, because I'm sure I'll never see her again. But, if I do, I hope to return the favor.
Grand Central to Atlantic Ave.
I made the maddening transfer from the Metro North, through the main terminal of Grand Central Station (which is looking very pretty these days with it's Holiday light display) to the downtown express 4-5.
Hundreds of fellow commuters crammed themselves alongside me into the packed train. Then the announcer said the train would be "moving at slower speeds" for no good reason. Well, he gave a reason, but it was no good.
45 minutes and 15mph later, I arrived at my destination.
And some people walk to work: they miss all the fun.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Wednesday, October 3rd
It rained before I woke up (6:30a). The ground was wet, but drying and the air was so humid that when you move quickly, you sweat.
65 degrees.
8:39am
N: I had to get to work at 9:30am ("early" shift after an event), but I also had to finish all my laundry before work. I managed to do both by running/speed walking to the train, which I caught as it screamed into the station.
But, as I was hustling by the Dunkin' Donuts the block before the train, I looked to see who was yelling. It was a policeman gesturing wildly and shouting at the top of his lungs at a man in a white mini van. Two other cops, a woman and man, stood quietly by the loud cop, as he continued his tired. The man in the van seemed upset, too, and did the stupid thing of continuing to match the cop in volume and tone. A little something I have learned from TV and stories and that one time I got a ticket for riding my bike across the sidewalk is: don't yell at cops. Even though it might feel good for a few seconds and even if they are wrong (which the probably are). It won't get you anywhere.
Unless you wants to be on TV.
7: Train pulled in as we pulled in.
G: No trains in the station. The 9:06am pulled in, commuters disembarked, we boarded and off we went.
65 degrees.
8:39am
N: I had to get to work at 9:30am ("early" shift after an event), but I also had to finish all my laundry before work. I managed to do both by running/speed walking to the train, which I caught as it screamed into the station.
But, as I was hustling by the Dunkin' Donuts the block before the train, I looked to see who was yelling. It was a policeman gesturing wildly and shouting at the top of his lungs at a man in a white mini van. Two other cops, a woman and man, stood quietly by the loud cop, as he continued his tired. The man in the van seemed upset, too, and did the stupid thing of continuing to match the cop in volume and tone. A little something I have learned from TV and stories and that one time I got a ticket for riding my bike across the sidewalk is: don't yell at cops. Even though it might feel good for a few seconds and even if they are wrong (which the probably are). It won't get you anywhere.
Unless you wants to be on TV.
7: Train pulled in as we pulled in.
G: No trains in the station. The 9:06am pulled in, commuters disembarked, we boarded and off we went.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Tuesday, October 2nd
Got to head into work on the "late" shift (be at work between 10-10:30am) because I get to head home on the "early" shift after tonight's 25th Next Wave Gala Kick-Off Reception.
Sky was bright, but mostly covered with thin clouds. Kind of humid. Work had the air conditioning on, but it was breezy and mostly pleasant outside.
65 degrees.
9:17am
N: As I was walking towards the station, an inbound train tooted it's horn. I knew it was going express, so I didn't rush. I did, however, wonder if I was catching the tail end of the messed up train schedule or just the beginning...
Another ten minutes rolled by as a W pulled into the station, sped up, tooted, and drove on through. By 9:34, a new N came into the station and I was sure it would stop for us. It had to: I would've thrown rocks at it and convinced the other commuters to create a human wall/barrier.
It stopped locally.
When I sat down in mostly abandoned front car, my feet slid on a slimey water-like substance. It smelled like vomit, so gave up my seat for a patch of clean air and stood in the front of the car. We pulled into QB Plaza and a crowd of people lined the platform. I fought my way off and silently wished them good luck on the UpChuck Express.
7: We waited another ten minutes for the 7. By this time it was 9:55am and had taken me almost 45 minutes to go 10 blocks. It is times like these that I get angry. 45 minutes to go 10 blocks? Where are we, LA on the 10 at rush hour? No. We're in Astoria, an hour after rush. That ride should take 15 minutes, tops.
Anyway, the 7 finally showed up (after I had to send a message to work, embarrassingly telling them I might be late...for the late shift! I hate that!) and was packed. I squished my way on amongst, suprisingly, a bunch of teenagers.
G: As I hustled down the stairs to the platform, I could see the last car of the G pulling out of the station. "Dammit!" I yelled to no one.
A train was in the station, but all the doors were closed. Within a few minutes, another G pulled into the station and before the people were getting off, commuters were making their way on. The conductor warned us, "Stand clear of the closing doors, please!" and closed all the doors accept the back one.
After another five minutes of waiting, someone announced that the train across the platform would be leaving the station first. Glad I had my iPod turned at just the volume where I can both hear the music and be aware of my surroundings. So, we all had to get up, file out of the one half-open door through the other train's one half-open door.
In a moment, all the train doors flew open, the announcer screamed something, the doors binged shut and we were off. At Greenpoint, I noticed this dude sitting kitty-corner from me and thought he looked really familiar. I swore he was my best friend's former step brother, Corey, who at one time lived in New York. I later got confirmation that Corey lives in Dallas, so I feel justified not talking to a stranger. Avoiding awkwardness just for the sole purpose of curiosity is a good thing, I think.
I got to work a little after 10:30am.
Sky was bright, but mostly covered with thin clouds. Kind of humid. Work had the air conditioning on, but it was breezy and mostly pleasant outside.
65 degrees.
9:17am
N: As I was walking towards the station, an inbound train tooted it's horn. I knew it was going express, so I didn't rush. I did, however, wonder if I was catching the tail end of the messed up train schedule or just the beginning...
Another ten minutes rolled by as a W pulled into the station, sped up, tooted, and drove on through. By 9:34, a new N came into the station and I was sure it would stop for us. It had to: I would've thrown rocks at it and convinced the other commuters to create a human wall/barrier.
It stopped locally.
When I sat down in mostly abandoned front car, my feet slid on a slimey water-like substance. It smelled like vomit, so gave up my seat for a patch of clean air and stood in the front of the car. We pulled into QB Plaza and a crowd of people lined the platform. I fought my way off and silently wished them good luck on the UpChuck Express.
7: We waited another ten minutes for the 7. By this time it was 9:55am and had taken me almost 45 minutes to go 10 blocks. It is times like these that I get angry. 45 minutes to go 10 blocks? Where are we, LA on the 10 at rush hour? No. We're in Astoria, an hour after rush. That ride should take 15 minutes, tops.
Anyway, the 7 finally showed up (after I had to send a message to work, embarrassingly telling them I might be late...for the late shift! I hate that!) and was packed. I squished my way on amongst, suprisingly, a bunch of teenagers.
G: As I hustled down the stairs to the platform, I could see the last car of the G pulling out of the station. "Dammit!" I yelled to no one.
A train was in the station, but all the doors were closed. Within a few minutes, another G pulled into the station and before the people were getting off, commuters were making their way on. The conductor warned us, "Stand clear of the closing doors, please!" and closed all the doors accept the back one.
After another five minutes of waiting, someone announced that the train across the platform would be leaving the station first. Glad I had my iPod turned at just the volume where I can both hear the music and be aware of my surroundings. So, we all had to get up, file out of the one half-open door through the other train's one half-open door.
In a moment, all the train doors flew open, the announcer screamed something, the doors binged shut and we were off. At Greenpoint, I noticed this dude sitting kitty-corner from me and thought he looked really familiar. I swore he was my best friend's former step brother, Corey, who at one time lived in New York. I later got confirmation that Corey lives in Dallas, so I feel justified not talking to a stranger. Avoiding awkwardness just for the sole purpose of curiosity is a good thing, I think.
I got to work a little after 10:30am.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Monday, October 1st
Holy crap, it's October.
The sky was bright, covered in thin clouds with little vents of sky peeping through.
64 degrees, but it felt like 69 degrees. Perfect blue jean weather.
N: My spidey sense tingled a block away from the station, so I quickened my pace. Sho' nuff, as I got to the bottom of the stairs, the train pulled into the station. I love seeing other commuters run to catch the trainm, too: dude in the nice suit, woman in heels and a tight, cloth dress, mom dragging her kid by the hand. The announcer was hanging out the window, so he held the doors.
7: Train was quickly pulling out of the station as we arrived. Another one came within a minute. I got in the second door to avoid Door #1 conjestion.
G: The conductor was hanging out the window, so he held the doors. Which was awesome.
When I got above ground, I ran into a dear friend from work and we were both on our way to tea and donuts.
The sky was bright, covered in thin clouds with little vents of sky peeping through.
64 degrees, but it felt like 69 degrees. Perfect blue jean weather.
N: My spidey sense tingled a block away from the station, so I quickened my pace. Sho' nuff, as I got to the bottom of the stairs, the train pulled into the station. I love seeing other commuters run to catch the trainm, too: dude in the nice suit, woman in heels and a tight, cloth dress, mom dragging her kid by the hand. The announcer was hanging out the window, so he held the doors.
7: Train was quickly pulling out of the station as we arrived. Another one came within a minute. I got in the second door to avoid Door #1 conjestion.
G: The conductor was hanging out the window, so he held the doors. Which was awesome.
When I got above ground, I ran into a dear friend from work and we were both on our way to tea and donuts.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Friday, Septmeber 28th
I woke up with a start, looked at the clock and realized it was 9:06am. I overslept. Whoa. My new phone's alarm clock was on "vibrate", so I screwed up waking myself up. I flew out of bed, threw on my clothes, and ran to the train.
73 degrees.
Skies were kind of overcast, but clear enough in some patches that I didn't think it'd rain.
N: The train came as I got to the station!
7: The train came as I got to the station!
G: No trains in the station. Had to wait. Then, a woman made an announcement that "train doors would be opening momentarily." As she said that, I noticed an MTA worker, donned with a neon orange work vest, dangling a set of keys in the air and dramatically putting his free hand to his ear.
"Wud she say?!" he shouted to no one.
"The train doors..." I started as he began jangling the huge ring of keys. I, and several other commuters, quietly looked at him.
"I gotta wait just a minute..." he mocked, still jiggling the brass.
The platform was quiet as other commuters realized what he was doing. If he kept that on another minute, there'd be mutiny. But, I think he sensed it, so he deliberately made his way over to the last door in the front car, jammed one of the keys in and half a set of doors opened. A rush of commuters pushed their way inside the car. I felt stupid like a salmon, but I was part of the pack, "Gotta get on, gotta get on, gotta get on..."
Train left a minute later.
73 degrees.
Skies were kind of overcast, but clear enough in some patches that I didn't think it'd rain.
N: The train came as I got to the station!
7: The train came as I got to the station!
G: No trains in the station. Had to wait. Then, a woman made an announcement that "train doors would be opening momentarily." As she said that, I noticed an MTA worker, donned with a neon orange work vest, dangling a set of keys in the air and dramatically putting his free hand to his ear.
"Wud she say?!" he shouted to no one.
"The train doors..." I started as he began jangling the huge ring of keys. I, and several other commuters, quietly looked at him.
"I gotta wait just a minute..." he mocked, still jiggling the brass.
The platform was quiet as other commuters realized what he was doing. If he kept that on another minute, there'd be mutiny. But, I think he sensed it, so he deliberately made his way over to the last door in the front car, jammed one of the keys in and half a set of doors opened. A rush of commuters pushed their way inside the car. I felt stupid like a salmon, but I was part of the pack, "Gotta get on, gotta get on, gotta get on..."
Train left a minute later.
Thursday, September 27th
My 27th birthday. The skies were clear (although the morning forecast rumored of late-night storms, it didn't rain a drop).
72 degrees.
N: Train came right away. Today, I took a seat.
7: As the train came into the station, I saw Vet ready at Door #1. I have made a decision to avoid him and his creepy combat energy, so I took up Door #2. Glad I did, I had it all to myself.
G: The train came right away. Nice.
There's a great story about Birthday Dinner on my other blog...
72 degrees.
N: Train came right away. Today, I took a seat.
7: As the train came into the station, I saw Vet ready at Door #1. I have made a decision to avoid him and his creepy combat energy, so I took up Door #2. Glad I did, I had it all to myself.
G: The train came right away. Nice.
There's a great story about Birthday Dinner on my other blog...
Wednesday, September 26th
Oh, the weather outside is delightful... the indigestion I was suffering was frightful... Basically, the morning was a little rocky. Thanks to a combo of a few things, the "Detox" tea being the main instigator, I left the house and then came back to the house to finish some unfinished business.
At this point, it's just past 9am and I realized I was going to be late to a 9:30am walk-thru of the venue we're having the Gala in November. The venue is just down the street from work.
So, I speed walk to the train.
79 degrees, and it's only getting hotter. Humid. El cielo es azul.
N: A train blasts overhead as I approach the station... and, miraculously, I catch the second half of the Double, Double! He's with me this morning, I think.
7: Boom, right in the station when we pull in. Nice nice nice...
G: No kidding, the train is waiting for us. It pulls out a second after I hop on. Yes, I think, I'll be on time. I got off the train a stop early (Clinton-Washington) and barrel off in the direction I believe to be SouthEast.
Epilogue: After deciding I didn't have time to stop in my favorite Brooklyn coffee shop, Tillie's (aside: the first time I went in this shop, I was overwhelmed at just how amazingly "Brooklyn" it was because it seemed a representative from every creed, religion, race, age group, gender, fashion sensibility was hanging out in the shop, checking email, laughing, politely asking each other to pass a napkin), I thought to myself, "Gee, I didn't realize Tillie's was over here..."
Then, after walking another 6 streets that didn't look familiar, I slowed down, looked up and realized I was looking at the Manhattan skyline.
"What a second..." I thought to myself. "Manhattan is... West and North of here." Mother Efer.
I turned around and there walking steadily behind me, as she had been for the last several blocks, was a pleasant looking middle-aged Caribbean woman. As she approached, I asked her if she knew where Fulton Street was.
"I knew you were lost," she said in her soft island accent, looking me right in the eyes.
"What?" I asked defensively.
"Why...because I was moving so quickly?" She laughed. "No, I just knew. It was a sixth sense. I knew first thing I saw you back thar'. 'That child is lost.'"
She seemed so kind and I could feel the minutes pass us by, so I decided to believe her.
"You have good intuition. Do you know where Fulton Street is?"
She opened up her body towards me as she made a large, circular sweeping gesture, "Oh, it's about 6 loooong blocks back dat way." I followed her hand back up the streets I had so determinedly pounded and realized I had gone 15 minutes out of my way.
"I was on time...," I half-bitterly, half-disappointingly admitted under my breath. "Thank you," I said as I started to walk the other direction.
"Sometimes," she called back to me, "getting lost is God's way of telling you to slow down."
Her words flooded over me with a wave of warmth, then I got goose bumps. Then, I had to go the bathroom. Real bad. I thanked her again and started walking back the way I came, now in search of a bathroom. And there was Tillie's, quietly waiting for me, ready to provide the breakfast and relief I never had that morning...
Epilogue's Epilogue: I was 35 minutes late to the walk-thru. But the caterer was 25 minutes late. Maybe she got off at Clinton-Washington, too...
At this point, it's just past 9am and I realized I was going to be late to a 9:30am walk-thru of the venue we're having the Gala in November. The venue is just down the street from work.
So, I speed walk to the train.
79 degrees, and it's only getting hotter. Humid. El cielo es azul.
N: A train blasts overhead as I approach the station... and, miraculously, I catch the second half of the Double, Double! He's with me this morning, I think.
7: Boom, right in the station when we pull in. Nice nice nice...
G: No kidding, the train is waiting for us. It pulls out a second after I hop on. Yes, I think, I'll be on time. I got off the train a stop early (Clinton-Washington) and barrel off in the direction I believe to be SouthEast.
Epilogue: After deciding I didn't have time to stop in my favorite Brooklyn coffee shop, Tillie's (aside: the first time I went in this shop, I was overwhelmed at just how amazingly "Brooklyn" it was because it seemed a representative from every creed, religion, race, age group, gender, fashion sensibility was hanging out in the shop, checking email, laughing, politely asking each other to pass a napkin), I thought to myself, "Gee, I didn't realize Tillie's was over here..."
Then, after walking another 6 streets that didn't look familiar, I slowed down, looked up and realized I was looking at the Manhattan skyline.
"What a second..." I thought to myself. "Manhattan is... West and North of here." Mother Efer.
I turned around and there walking steadily behind me, as she had been for the last several blocks, was a pleasant looking middle-aged Caribbean woman. As she approached, I asked her if she knew where Fulton Street was.
"I knew you were lost," she said in her soft island accent, looking me right in the eyes.
"What?" I asked defensively.
"Why...because I was moving so quickly?" She laughed. "No, I just knew. It was a sixth sense. I knew first thing I saw you back thar'. 'That child is lost.'"
She seemed so kind and I could feel the minutes pass us by, so I decided to believe her.
"You have good intuition. Do you know where Fulton Street is?"
She opened up her body towards me as she made a large, circular sweeping gesture, "Oh, it's about 6 loooong blocks back dat way." I followed her hand back up the streets I had so determinedly pounded and realized I had gone 15 minutes out of my way.
"I was on time...," I half-bitterly, half-disappointingly admitted under my breath. "Thank you," I said as I started to walk the other direction.
"Sometimes," she called back to me, "getting lost is God's way of telling you to slow down."
Her words flooded over me with a wave of warmth, then I got goose bumps. Then, I had to go the bathroom. Real bad. I thanked her again and started walking back the way I came, now in search of a bathroom. And there was Tillie's, quietly waiting for me, ready to provide the breakfast and relief I never had that morning...
Epilogue's Epilogue: I was 35 minutes late to the walk-thru. But the caterer was 25 minutes late. Maybe she got off at Clinton-Washington, too...
Friday, September 28, 2007
Tuesday, September 25th: Coming Home
It was such a beautiful evening by 6pm, that I decided to take the opportunity, perhaps one of the last free, warm evenings I had, to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge.
This is one of my favorite privileges I exercise as someone who lives in New York.
First, you feel like you're flying because the walk-way is elevated (but secure) above the car traffic and there are no trains on this bridge! And (secret revealed), if you walk from Brooklyn into Manhattan, the experience is so much more dramatic.
The Southerly view is one the most stunning of lower Manhattan, the New York harbor, throw in a little Verrazano-Narrows and the Statue of Liberty and you're not doing to shabby. The Northerly view is just as striking at sunset: the Manhattan bridge within blocks of you, the Williamsburg bridge behind that, and like it's a condensed film set the rest of the island's tall buildings seem to line up infront of you anchored, of course, by the Empire State. On top of that, the moon was full and the sun setting over New Jersey was a red fireball.
Now, I could've walked from Fort Greene and it'd be about 25 minutes. But, why do that when I can take the train? It was just short 4 train stops on the A/C to High Street (from the A at Lafayette) and then a delightful tromp through Cadman Plaza in Brooklyn Heights and right onto the pedestrian walk-way ramp.
The minute I got on the Bridge, I forgot it wasn't just one of the most beautiful fall evenings... it was 6:30pm on a Tuesday night and still rush hour! For the thousands of New Yorkers who use the Bridge as a walk-way or bike-way they, like all other commuters (including myself) did not appreciate the hordes of Italian families swarming all of the carefully divided (and huge, might I add) walk-way and bike lanes. I got knocked by a woman in shoulder pads, but that's a small price to pay.
Anyway, I got off the Bridge and landed right at the Brooklyn Bridge 4-5-6 stop. I hopped on the waiting 5 train to head up to 59th-Lex to meet my boyfriend for hamburgers uptown.
When I got on, a young woman pushing a tiny baby girl in a stroller got on, too. We sat down across from each other. She was sitting next to this huge guy who was missing some teeth and I think had some form of mental illness. But, he was so sweet when she sat down because almost immediately, he started playing peek-a-boo with the baby and telling stories about his own kids to the young mother. A very pregnant, tired pregnant French woman was attempting to get comfortable next to me.
Young Mother said, "How far along are you?"
French Mother said, "8 munz."
Young Mother asked, "Your first?"
French Mother released, "Yesssss."
Young Mother squealed, "Me too!"
I thought for a split second, "Wow, it's cool how total strangers can be so friendly."
Then, Peek-a-Boo inaudibly mumbled something to Young Mother, who nodded, prompting Peek to dig something out of his discrete black plastic bag. He revealed a snack bag of Utz's BBQ potato chips--the kind you get free with a sandwich at delis. To my and French Mother's horror, Young Mother ripped open the bag of chips and started feeding them to her baby. Within seconds, the baby threw the chips down, started choking and coughing and then, wailing.
Frenchie shifted in her seat. I tried not to judge this poor, stupid woman too harshly (this was her first baby, after all) and Peek knew his gift was a no-no.
The baby's scream, tears and flapping arms smashed any sense of serenity I had momentarily had and the reality of three strangers on the train in New York came back to me.
This is one of my favorite privileges I exercise as someone who lives in New York.
First, you feel like you're flying because the walk-way is elevated (but secure) above the car traffic and there are no trains on this bridge! And (secret revealed), if you walk from Brooklyn into Manhattan, the experience is so much more dramatic.
The Southerly view is one the most stunning of lower Manhattan, the New York harbor, throw in a little Verrazano-Narrows and the Statue of Liberty and you're not doing to shabby. The Northerly view is just as striking at sunset: the Manhattan bridge within blocks of you, the Williamsburg bridge behind that, and like it's a condensed film set the rest of the island's tall buildings seem to line up infront of you anchored, of course, by the Empire State. On top of that, the moon was full and the sun setting over New Jersey was a red fireball.
Now, I could've walked from Fort Greene and it'd be about 25 minutes. But, why do that when I can take the train? It was just short 4 train stops on the A/C to High Street (from the A at Lafayette) and then a delightful tromp through Cadman Plaza in Brooklyn Heights and right onto the pedestrian walk-way ramp.
The minute I got on the Bridge, I forgot it wasn't just one of the most beautiful fall evenings... it was 6:30pm on a Tuesday night and still rush hour! For the thousands of New Yorkers who use the Bridge as a walk-way or bike-way they, like all other commuters (including myself) did not appreciate the hordes of Italian families swarming all of the carefully divided (and huge, might I add) walk-way and bike lanes. I got knocked by a woman in shoulder pads, but that's a small price to pay.
Anyway, I got off the Bridge and landed right at the Brooklyn Bridge 4-5-6 stop. I hopped on the waiting 5 train to head up to 59th-Lex to meet my boyfriend for hamburgers uptown.
When I got on, a young woman pushing a tiny baby girl in a stroller got on, too. We sat down across from each other. She was sitting next to this huge guy who was missing some teeth and I think had some form of mental illness. But, he was so sweet when she sat down because almost immediately, he started playing peek-a-boo with the baby and telling stories about his own kids to the young mother. A very pregnant, tired pregnant French woman was attempting to get comfortable next to me.
Young Mother said, "How far along are you?"
French Mother said, "8 munz."
Young Mother asked, "Your first?"
French Mother released, "Yesssss."
Young Mother squealed, "Me too!"
I thought for a split second, "Wow, it's cool how total strangers can be so friendly."
Then, Peek-a-Boo inaudibly mumbled something to Young Mother, who nodded, prompting Peek to dig something out of his discrete black plastic bag. He revealed a snack bag of Utz's BBQ potato chips--the kind you get free with a sandwich at delis. To my and French Mother's horror, Young Mother ripped open the bag of chips and started feeding them to her baby. Within seconds, the baby threw the chips down, started choking and coughing and then, wailing.
Frenchie shifted in her seat. I tried not to judge this poor, stupid woman too harshly (this was her first baby, after all) and Peek knew his gift was a no-no.
The baby's scream, tears and flapping arms smashed any sense of serenity I had momentarily had and the reality of three strangers on the train in New York came back to me.
Tuesday, September 25th
Fall day. Bright, blue, pretty. Clean air. Mid 70s.
8:36am.
N: Came right away.
7: Got on and the first person I saw was a friend, Chris, from improv! He is so sweet and hilarious, it was refreshing to see a kind face on the normally hardened collective face of the morning 7. He works for the MTA, so I shared with him our little secret (that I have a blog about the MTA).
He laughed and asked me for the link, promising that he'd send it around the office. I was like, "Wait... I write a lot about my frustrations on the MTA..." and he leans in and tells me that most of his co-workers are so far removed from the problems they're causing/not helping to uncause, they'll think it's hilarious.
Shit, I can't complain about more readers...
G: No trains were there when I got downstairs... so we waited and waited and waited... and, eventually, one slowly limped into the station, came to a great sigh and shut off. Such a dramatic entrance. Then, manically, the train roared to life, all its doors flew open, someone screamed a garbled announcement and we all instinctively ran onto the train.
A moment later, all the doors bing-bonged shut and we flew out of the station like it was a race.
8:36am.
N: Came right away.
7: Got on and the first person I saw was a friend, Chris, from improv! He is so sweet and hilarious, it was refreshing to see a kind face on the normally hardened collective face of the morning 7. He works for the MTA, so I shared with him our little secret (that I have a blog about the MTA).
He laughed and asked me for the link, promising that he'd send it around the office. I was like, "Wait... I write a lot about my frustrations on the MTA..." and he leans in and tells me that most of his co-workers are so far removed from the problems they're causing/not helping to uncause, they'll think it's hilarious.
Shit, I can't complain about more readers...
G: No trains were there when I got downstairs... so we waited and waited and waited... and, eventually, one slowly limped into the station, came to a great sigh and shut off. Such a dramatic entrance. Then, manically, the train roared to life, all its doors flew open, someone screamed a garbled announcement and we all instinctively ran onto the train.
A moment later, all the doors bing-bonged shut and we flew out of the station like it was a race.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Monday, September 24th
I think it'll be a really beautiful day.
81 degrees (but, really feels like 72 degrees).
8:40am
N: I waited but a minute.
7: Me, Bulldog and Little Italy at the transfer. Me, Bulldog and Little Italy got off at Court Square.
G: Doors binged as I got on and got a seat. Phew.
81 degrees (but, really feels like 72 degrees).
8:40am
N: I waited but a minute.
7: Me, Bulldog and Little Italy at the transfer. Me, Bulldog and Little Italy got off at Court Square.
G: Doors binged as I got on and got a seat. Phew.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Friday, September 21st
"It's the last day to wear your favorite summer outfits," proclaimed Pat Keiren from NY1.
Dusty blue, warm, kinda humid. 72 degrees. Gonna be 81 degrees, then back down to 67.
8:35am.
N: I waited about ten minutes. I missed the "double, double", as I like to call it--when the two trains come back to back. It happens about once a morning, usually around this time. But, as I saw the second of the "double, double" zoom by as I neared the station, I knew things'd be a little miffed for the commute.
7: And, low and behold, the train was across the platform and as the N train doors opened, the 7 train shut it's doors and took off. I was then subjected to a ridiculous conversation about some woman's egsima was so bad when she was a kid, her skin fell off her ears.
Dude. Seriously. Don't scatch so hard. Next, shut the hell up.
G: This train, suprisingly, waited for me. Fine ride.
Dusty blue, warm, kinda humid. 72 degrees. Gonna be 81 degrees, then back down to 67.
8:35am.
N: I waited about ten minutes. I missed the "double, double", as I like to call it--when the two trains come back to back. It happens about once a morning, usually around this time. But, as I saw the second of the "double, double" zoom by as I neared the station, I knew things'd be a little miffed for the commute.
7: And, low and behold, the train was across the platform and as the N train doors opened, the 7 train shut it's doors and took off. I was then subjected to a ridiculous conversation about some woman's egsima was so bad when she was a kid, her skin fell off her ears.
Dude. Seriously. Don't scatch so hard. Next, shut the hell up.
G: This train, suprisingly, waited for me. Fine ride.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Thursday, September 20th
Whoa. It's the last 3/4 of September. That's crazy.
Beautiful. Blue sky. It was warm and it's going to be 81 degrees!
8:36 am.
N: A new train arrived as I got to the end of the platform.
7: Arrived as the N dumped us.
G: Doors open and waiting. I ran into a very sweet co-worker who said she always take the G, too. So weird, I don't think we've ever run into one another before. It made the ride go by fast.
Beautiful. Blue sky. It was warm and it's going to be 81 degrees!
8:36 am.
N: A new train arrived as I got to the end of the platform.
7: Arrived as the N dumped us.
G: Doors open and waiting. I ran into a very sweet co-worker who said she always take the G, too. So weird, I don't think we've ever run into one another before. It made the ride go by fast.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Wednesday, September 19th
NY1 said it was 61 degrees, so I brought my coat again. But, once I got outside, I think it was 70 degrees. No complaints.
Light, clear, blue skies.
8:36am.
N: I made it half way down my block, then realized I forgot my Nano. As I approached the station (I can't leave my house just once), I saw the inbound N pull out of the station. But, as I got to the top of the stairs, another one came. Bril.
7: Arrived as I got to the end of the platform. An overweight, bitchy nurse in scrubs did not want to make room for me. But, when my bag kept hitting her in the back whenever the train moved, she finally moved. Thanks, Nurse.
G: Left a minute after I got on.
Light, clear, blue skies.
8:36am.
N: I made it half way down my block, then realized I forgot my Nano. As I approached the station (I can't leave my house just once), I saw the inbound N pull out of the station. But, as I got to the top of the stairs, another one came. Bril.
7: Arrived as I got to the end of the platform. An overweight, bitchy nurse in scrubs did not want to make room for me. But, when my bag kept hitting her in the back whenever the train moved, she finally moved. Thanks, Nurse.
G: Left a minute after I got on.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Tuesday, September 18th
Beautiful. Blue sky, some clouds. Last night it got chilly, so today I wore my thin "transitional season" coat. First coat wearing of the Fall! Of course, by the time I got to the station, it was too hot and I discarded it.
68 degrees.
8:45 am.
N: Waited for 10 minutes, which just feels way too long in the morning rush. C'mon, trains. Then, a W teased us by going express. I hate hearing the warning horn toot from far away, you know you've got another 5 minute wait ahead of you. A new N train came soon enough. Boo and I got seats.
7: Waited just a minute for the transfer.
As I was waiting, I saw Vet come bounding towards me, at end of the platform. I haven't seen him for a while. He looked angrier than usual.
When the 7 pulled in, he silently insisted that the six other people waiting at the front doors board before him (so he can have the primo position closest to the doors--as usual).
But, when a polite man tried to insist that Vet get on first, Vet pursed his lips, furrowed his brow and flashed this rage in his eyes. In the matter of one second, Polite Man looked confused, insulted, annoyed, then completely uninterested as he got on the train regardless of Vet. Vet broke a sweat and assumed his position as the doors closed.
Ick. It was creepy being around such intense anger so early in the morning.
Anyway, we got to Court Street and myself, Poite Man and all everybody else from the front car brushed past Vet, as he clamored out of the train. Maybe it's a Vet thing. Maybe it's an OCD thing. Whatever.
G: Doors were open and waiting for us. Finished Chappelle right as we got to Fulton.
68 degrees.
8:45 am.
N: Waited for 10 minutes, which just feels way too long in the morning rush. C'mon, trains. Then, a W teased us by going express. I hate hearing the warning horn toot from far away, you know you've got another 5 minute wait ahead of you. A new N train came soon enough. Boo and I got seats.
7: Waited just a minute for the transfer.
As I was waiting, I saw Vet come bounding towards me, at end of the platform. I haven't seen him for a while. He looked angrier than usual.
When the 7 pulled in, he silently insisted that the six other people waiting at the front doors board before him (so he can have the primo position closest to the doors--as usual).
But, when a polite man tried to insist that Vet get on first, Vet pursed his lips, furrowed his brow and flashed this rage in his eyes. In the matter of one second, Polite Man looked confused, insulted, annoyed, then completely uninterested as he got on the train regardless of Vet. Vet broke a sweat and assumed his position as the doors closed.
Ick. It was creepy being around such intense anger so early in the morning.
Anyway, we got to Court Street and myself, Poite Man and all everybody else from the front car brushed past Vet, as he clamored out of the train. Maybe it's a Vet thing. Maybe it's an OCD thing. Whatever.
G: Doors were open and waiting for us. Finished Chappelle right as we got to Fulton.
Monday, September 17th
Sorry it's been a minute since I posted! Every day last week I thought to myself on the train what I would post, but never connected. Here's to a more complete week. And to those of you (you know who you are) who texted me to get moving...
So... this weekend my amazing boyfriend bought me an iPod nano (to replace the one that was stolen from my desk at work, overnight) for my birthday! So, this weeks rides will be dedicated to fussing around with nano...
Blue sky. A nippy 70 degrees.
N: Arrived right as I got to the station.
7: Quick & easy transfer.
G: Train was ready and waiting. I watched a Dave Chappelle stand-up special in the palm of my hand. Crazy.
So... this weekend my amazing boyfriend bought me an iPod nano (to replace the one that was stolen from my desk at work, overnight) for my birthday! So, this weeks rides will be dedicated to fussing around with nano...
Blue sky. A nippy 70 degrees.
N: Arrived right as I got to the station.
7: Quick & easy transfer.
G: Train was ready and waiting. I watched a Dave Chappelle stand-up special in the palm of my hand. Crazy.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Tuesday, September 5th
Blue sky, dusted with thin, layered clouds. The sun is present, but not too strong. By midday it will probably feel like full-blown summer.
8:16am
69 degrees.
N: Tell tale signs of train irregularity: tons of people on the platform and an outbound W train stranded between stations. I wonder how long those commuters had been waiting: I think 20 minutes is a good guess. But, lucky for me, I only had to wait a minute or two for an incredibly full train to arrive.
Once on the train, a woman beside me bent down to get something from her bag. She was little in the middle, but had much back, so I kept getting bumped. She started having a hard time reaching whatever she was trying to get and kept fussing and bumping me. Right as I started to get annoyed, another woman beside me looked down at her and said calmly, "Would you like me to hold that?"
L.A. face with and Oakland booty sighed a breath of relief, handed the stranger her large iced coffee and said, "That would be great."
My anger instantly melted. I was very moved and remembered that especially at a moment when I think I am being inconvenienced, it is important to remember others. A second later, the woman stood up and smiled and thanked the stranger again.
Then, as if that simple gesture had affected the others around me, without asking, my fellow commuters made room for me in anticipation of more people boarding when we arrived at what is normally the most crowded station.
7: Three rows of 7 train transfer commuters deep were waiting for us, as I calmly exited the train. I abandoned my position at the front of the train for the less crowded second car. Today I was early and it just didn't mean that much to me to have to ride in the front. Let others fight for it; today I am going to just get there when I get there.
G: A train arrived as I was heading down the stairs and as the tsumami of commuters swelled onto the platform, I was almost shoved onto the tracks by a frenzied, elderly Polish nurse.
"Get there when I get there..."
I got a seat, maybe not the one I wanted, but a seat none the less.
8:16am
69 degrees.
N: Tell tale signs of train irregularity: tons of people on the platform and an outbound W train stranded between stations. I wonder how long those commuters had been waiting: I think 20 minutes is a good guess. But, lucky for me, I only had to wait a minute or two for an incredibly full train to arrive.
Once on the train, a woman beside me bent down to get something from her bag. She was little in the middle, but had much back, so I kept getting bumped. She started having a hard time reaching whatever she was trying to get and kept fussing and bumping me. Right as I started to get annoyed, another woman beside me looked down at her and said calmly, "Would you like me to hold that?"
L.A. face with and Oakland booty sighed a breath of relief, handed the stranger her large iced coffee and said, "That would be great."
My anger instantly melted. I was very moved and remembered that especially at a moment when I think I am being inconvenienced, it is important to remember others. A second later, the woman stood up and smiled and thanked the stranger again.
Then, as if that simple gesture had affected the others around me, without asking, my fellow commuters made room for me in anticipation of more people boarding when we arrived at what is normally the most crowded station.
7: Three rows of 7 train transfer commuters deep were waiting for us, as I calmly exited the train. I abandoned my position at the front of the train for the less crowded second car. Today I was early and it just didn't mean that much to me to have to ride in the front. Let others fight for it; today I am going to just get there when I get there.
G: A train arrived as I was heading down the stairs and as the tsumami of commuters swelled onto the platform, I was almost shoved onto the tracks by a frenzied, elderly Polish nurse.
"Get there when I get there..."
I got a seat, maybe not the one I wanted, but a seat none the less.
Monday, September 4th
Clear, blue sky. Fall is quietly easing itself in. 8:15am.
75 degrees.
Back on the rails after a 10-day vacation to the West--and MidWest--Coast.
N: Arrived as I reached the end of the platform. There was a seat for me.
7: Arrived as I exited the train. Stubborn 7 train riders who positioned themselves closest to the door (to be first to leave at their designated stop) meant that I had to, literally, push my way into the car past them.
G: There was no train in the station for almost ten minutes. Once a train pulled in, there was a crush of people getting off and trying to get on. I stood patiently beside an old lady, who stood beside a steel pole, and let her on first.
As a reward for my patience, the train doors almost closed on my head. I got a seat and read the rest of the journey.
75 degrees.
Back on the rails after a 10-day vacation to the West--and MidWest--Coast.
N: Arrived as I reached the end of the platform. There was a seat for me.
7: Arrived as I exited the train. Stubborn 7 train riders who positioned themselves closest to the door (to be first to leave at their designated stop) meant that I had to, literally, push my way into the car past them.
G: There was no train in the station for almost ten minutes. Once a train pulled in, there was a crush of people getting off and trying to get on. I stood patiently beside an old lady, who stood beside a steel pole, and let her on first.
As a reward for my patience, the train doors almost closed on my head. I got a seat and read the rest of the journey.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Wednesday, August 22nd
The morning was very gray and the ground was damp, but the threat of rain had passed for the day.
Mid-60s.
N: Arrived without much fuss.
7: Quiet transfer.
G: Waiting for us. The 9:06am left on time.
Mid-60s.
N: Arrived without much fuss.
7: Quiet transfer.
G: Waiting for us. The 9:06am left on time.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Tuesday, August 21st
Consistently, drenching rain (front-end of Hurricane Dean). Mid-60s.
N: The platform was almost overflowing with human beings, unhappily huddled under the overhang for shelter. I pushed my way past the crowds onto the exposed part of the platform as a train came barreling into the station.
The A/C wasn't really on, so all the body heat and wet clothes, hair, and hot breathe fogged up the car and made me feel like I stuck my head inside the dirty dish washing machine of a filthy Chinese restaurant.
7: Train arrived as we arrived, not many people on the train. Saw Bulldog on the lookout at the other door.
G: Doors closed as I approached the train. I think, worse than missing the train is making eye contact with the conductor, seemingly powerless in an it's-not-up-to-me-talk-to-my-boss-who-makes-these-crazy-schedules kind of way, as they pull out of the station. Anyway, I sat on the train and read more of my Paulo Coehelo book. Not many people joined us on the commute.
In light of last week, I was happy to just be able to ride the rails.
N: The platform was almost overflowing with human beings, unhappily huddled under the overhang for shelter. I pushed my way past the crowds onto the exposed part of the platform as a train came barreling into the station.
The A/C wasn't really on, so all the body heat and wet clothes, hair, and hot breathe fogged up the car and made me feel like I stuck my head inside the dirty dish washing machine of a filthy Chinese restaurant.
7: Train arrived as we arrived, not many people on the train. Saw Bulldog on the lookout at the other door.
G: Doors closed as I approached the train. I think, worse than missing the train is making eye contact with the conductor, seemingly powerless in an it's-not-up-to-me-talk-to-my-boss-who-makes-these-crazy-schedules kind of way, as they pull out of the station. Anyway, I sat on the train and read more of my Paulo Coehelo book. Not many people joined us on the commute.
In light of last week, I was happy to just be able to ride the rails.
Monday, August 20th
Threat of rain. Umbrellas on everyone's arm (we didn't use them until nightfall).
Mid-70s.
N: I ran into a dear friend of mine in the first car of the N train! I love it when that happens, QB Plaza sneeks up on you.
7: Train was patiently waiting for us to make the transfer.
G: Train doors closed as I got on the train.
All around, an easy commute.
Mid-70s.
N: I ran into a dear friend of mine in the first car of the N train! I love it when that happens, QB Plaza sneeks up on you.
7: Train was patiently waiting for us to make the transfer.
G: Train doors closed as I got on the train.
All around, an easy commute.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Monday, August 13th
At first, the sky was choked with grey, puffy clouds.
But, further inspection revealed blue sky attempting to peek through. Scared by the threat of being caught in the rain, I fruitlessly dragged my umbrella all over the city. By midday, clouds returned, but fear of rain did not.
6:45am.
Met up with friends early in Murray Hill, so I took another route to work: N to the downtown 6, off at 33rd Street. Going to work, I got back on the downtown 6 at 33rd, switched to the downtown 5 at 14th Street and got off at Atlantic in Brooklyn. Everybody and their mom gets off at Bowling Green, near Wall Street. That station is orange.
I've always had a thing with orange stations.
Little conspiracy theory: I think there's something strategic behind the citrus-colored tiles. I think they make stations on the other side of a borough a bright color so it catches the attention of the commuter who might otherwise not notice. Instead of hating those glaring warnings declaring, "You are headed into an OUTER BOROUGH", I created a positive way to ignore them.
When I lived off the F train at Queensbridge, I used to play the game, "Don't look at the orange tiles." Which, basically, meant I had to close my eyes until after Roosevelt Island (the first stop uptown after the orange tiled 63rd Street) or 57th Street (the first stop downtown after 63rd Street). The F train rarley had working intercoms announcing stops, so it was easy not to cheat and it really tested my knowledge of the order of the stations. But, if the train was crowded, I had to keep my eyes open for leverage and saftey sake. That added a level of difficulty because I had to avoid catching the day-glow ceramic in my rods and cones. It also meant that I ended up drilling my eyes into the back of some woman's head, much to the consternation of fellow commuters.
Wow. I'm impressed if you're still reading after that tangent...
Anyway. Nothing to report except there is a bend in the tracks at 14th Street, where uptown 4/5 trains scrap against the steele so loudly, I had to plug my ears (with headphones in), but one woman seemed so used to the deafening noise, she didn't skip a beat in conversation with a gal pal.
Didn't skip a beat in coversation.
But, further inspection revealed blue sky attempting to peek through. Scared by the threat of being caught in the rain, I fruitlessly dragged my umbrella all over the city. By midday, clouds returned, but fear of rain did not.
6:45am.
Met up with friends early in Murray Hill, so I took another route to work: N to the downtown 6, off at 33rd Street. Going to work, I got back on the downtown 6 at 33rd, switched to the downtown 5 at 14th Street and got off at Atlantic in Brooklyn. Everybody and their mom gets off at Bowling Green, near Wall Street. That station is orange.
I've always had a thing with orange stations.
Little conspiracy theory: I think there's something strategic behind the citrus-colored tiles. I think they make stations on the other side of a borough a bright color so it catches the attention of the commuter who might otherwise not notice. Instead of hating those glaring warnings declaring, "You are headed into an OUTER BOROUGH", I created a positive way to ignore them.
When I lived off the F train at Queensbridge, I used to play the game, "Don't look at the orange tiles." Which, basically, meant I had to close my eyes until after Roosevelt Island (the first stop uptown after the orange tiled 63rd Street) or 57th Street (the first stop downtown after 63rd Street). The F train rarley had working intercoms announcing stops, so it was easy not to cheat and it really tested my knowledge of the order of the stations. But, if the train was crowded, I had to keep my eyes open for leverage and saftey sake. That added a level of difficulty because I had to avoid catching the day-glow ceramic in my rods and cones. It also meant that I ended up drilling my eyes into the back of some woman's head, much to the consternation of fellow commuters.
Wow. I'm impressed if you're still reading after that tangent...
Anyway. Nothing to report except there is a bend in the tracks at 14th Street, where uptown 4/5 trains scrap against the steele so loudly, I had to plug my ears (with headphones in), but one woman seemed so used to the deafening noise, she didn't skip a beat in conversation with a gal pal.
Didn't skip a beat in coversation.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Friday, August 10th
Chilly, grey, rain.
69 degrees.
10 am.
Let me preface this by stating that New Yorkers in the rain wielding umbrellas are as dangerous as LA drivers in the rain.
N: A train pulled into the station as I started up the stairs. I attempted to run up the stairs to catch the train, but was trapped by slow walkers. I tried to verbally and physically make my way around them, but the one old lady wouldn't budge from her set course on the right side of the staircase and the young, hungover couple monopolized the entire left side of the staircase.
Who are these people, why are they in no hurry to catch a train mere feet from them, and how come they are so rude they won't let anyone else try to make the train? Don't they get that little push inside of them to move faster as they are overwhelmed by the deafening brake screeches overhead? Do they weigh their options at the fourth stair and seriously decide, "Well, I could move a little faster and make this train, but seeing as I have nothing to do, I'll just keep at the same 1 mph pace and wait 15 minutes for the next train."
Good thing it was an express train and blew right by us. While I waited, I avoided getting my eyes removed with aluminum-capped nubs by many passing commuters' golf umbrellas. After a drenching (and harrowing) ten minutes, a W rolled through.
At QB Plaza, I had no qualms about checking three small Indian men who barged onto the N the second the doors opened and smashed into me. As I held my elbow steady and ran it along their ribs, I wrote them a letter in my head:
Dear Sirs,
If you don't let the people off, you're going to get an elbow in the ribs, and no amount of yelling "Bitchface!" is going to make the slightest bit of difference until you learn this simple rule.
Cordially,
Bitchface
7: Fine ride. Some 40-year-old with wire-rimmed glasses bumped into me on the way out the door, without recognition, in order to be the first to go down the stairs. But, instead of stealthily gliding down the stairs he so desperately wanted to be the leader of, he walked down slowly, clogging up the entire staircase! I couldn't believe it: another slow walker!
I took a deep breath, and scooted by him out the turn styles.
G: Got a seat, read in "Running with Scissors," laughed out loud and got off without incident.
GOING HOME:
At 5pm, I caught the B to 34th Street, bought a hoodie at Old Navy because it was about 25 degrees colder than I had prepared for, met up with friends outside Times Square, popped on the F to Delancy for my boss's birthday in the LES, walked over to the uptown B at Broadway/Lafayette for my boo's comedy show, then, we caught the N home.
69 degrees.
10 am.
Let me preface this by stating that New Yorkers in the rain wielding umbrellas are as dangerous as LA drivers in the rain.
N: A train pulled into the station as I started up the stairs. I attempted to run up the stairs to catch the train, but was trapped by slow walkers. I tried to verbally and physically make my way around them, but the one old lady wouldn't budge from her set course on the right side of the staircase and the young, hungover couple monopolized the entire left side of the staircase.
Who are these people, why are they in no hurry to catch a train mere feet from them, and how come they are so rude they won't let anyone else try to make the train? Don't they get that little push inside of them to move faster as they are overwhelmed by the deafening brake screeches overhead? Do they weigh their options at the fourth stair and seriously decide, "Well, I could move a little faster and make this train, but seeing as I have nothing to do, I'll just keep at the same 1 mph pace and wait 15 minutes for the next train."
Good thing it was an express train and blew right by us. While I waited, I avoided getting my eyes removed with aluminum-capped nubs by many passing commuters' golf umbrellas. After a drenching (and harrowing) ten minutes, a W rolled through.
At QB Plaza, I had no qualms about checking three small Indian men who barged onto the N the second the doors opened and smashed into me. As I held my elbow steady and ran it along their ribs, I wrote them a letter in my head:
Dear Sirs,
If you don't let the people off, you're going to get an elbow in the ribs, and no amount of yelling "Bitchface!" is going to make the slightest bit of difference until you learn this simple rule.
Cordially,
Bitchface
7: Fine ride. Some 40-year-old with wire-rimmed glasses bumped into me on the way out the door, without recognition, in order to be the first to go down the stairs. But, instead of stealthily gliding down the stairs he so desperately wanted to be the leader of, he walked down slowly, clogging up the entire staircase! I couldn't believe it: another slow walker!
I took a deep breath, and scooted by him out the turn styles.
G: Got a seat, read in "Running with Scissors," laughed out loud and got off without incident.
GOING HOME:
At 5pm, I caught the B to 34th Street, bought a hoodie at Old Navy because it was about 25 degrees colder than I had prepared for, met up with friends outside Times Square, popped on the F to Delancy for my boss's birthday in the LES, walked over to the uptown B at Broadway/Lafayette for my boo's comedy show, then, we caught the N home.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Thursday, August 9th
Sunny, crisp blue sky, easy breathing.
75 degrees.
With the ease of which I commuted today, one would never (ever) guess that any disruption happened throughout the entire subway system yesterday...
N: Arrived as I reached the platform. Everyone was reading newspaper articles about how f-ed the commute was yesterday.
7: Arrived as we reached the Plaza.
G: Left as I sat down. Easy peazy.
75 degrees.
With the ease of which I commuted today, one would never (ever) guess that any disruption happened throughout the entire subway system yesterday...
N: Arrived as I reached the platform. Everyone was reading newspaper articles about how f-ed the commute was yesterday.
7: Arrived as we reached the Plaza.
G: Left as I sat down. Easy peazy.
Wednesday, August 8th: epilouge
Getting home was much easier. Whew.
At 7pm, I left Brooklyn for 34th Street on the B (which arrived after just a few minute wait). At 9:30pm, my boo and girlfriends and I caught an N home (it arrived as we arrived, I HEART same-time arrivals), no problem.
At 7pm, I left Brooklyn for 34th Street on the B (which arrived after just a few minute wait). At 9:30pm, my boo and girlfriends and I caught an N home (it arrived as we arrived, I HEART same-time arrivals), no problem.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Wednesday, August 8th: final chapter
96 degrees. Bright sun.
12:38pm
Made it to work. It took an hour and a half. The concrete was hot, drivers were severely agro and I breathed in lots and lots and lots of bus fumes.
Half of my co-workers are working from home.
I could take a nap right about now.
12:38pm
Made it to work. It took an hour and a half. The concrete was hot, drivers were severely agro and I breathed in lots and lots and lots of bus fumes.
Half of my co-workers are working from home.
I could take a nap right about now.
Wednesday, August 8th: continued
Sunshine. 99% humidity. 88 degrees (and rising).
10:19 am.
The news on every channel is reporting nothing but anger and frustration from commuters using the MTA.
There is currently no service on the G, the Q/N into Brooklyn, the 1, the E, the F and on and on.
Ok. So, I have no choice but to avoid the subway completely. Sigh. The only way I'm getting to work is on my bike.
It'll probably take me 45 minutes to ride about 10 miles. I'm going to pour over my NYC Cycling map for most bike-friendly route.
Here goes nothing!
10:19 am.
The news on every channel is reporting nothing but anger and frustration from commuters using the MTA.
There is currently no service on the G, the Q/N into Brooklyn, the 1, the E, the F and on and on.
Ok. So, I have no choice but to avoid the subway completely. Sigh. The only way I'm getting to work is on my bike.
It'll probably take me 45 minutes to ride about 10 miles. I'm going to pour over my NYC Cycling map for most bike-friendly route.
Here goes nothing!
Wednesday, August 8th
7:58 am.
I was suprised to see a few rain drops on the window when I opened the bedroom curtains this morning. The lights on my A/C unit were blinking, suggesting I'd lost power. I flipped on NY One to find out if something happened. It turns out, this morning between 6:30-7:30 am, southern Queens and southern Brooklyn had a tornado warning!
The severe weather is now headed east over Long Island, but in it's wake, it has caused street flooding throughout every borough, high wind damage (broken tree branches, roof damage, etc.), cancelled Metro North service in and out of Grand Central, and massive delays on every single subway and bus line in the system in every borough.
Hmm. How will this affect my commute?
Train
The MTA is giving a rare piece of advice: "The MTA recommends that commuters avoid the suways for the time being."
An MTA official on NY One said, "Please stay home. If you're about to leave your house: don't. We probably won't be able to get you from Point A to Point B. Every subway and bus line is affected. The commute will get better as each hour passes. Wait 30 minutes. "
The MTA website is all but shut down because so many people are hitting it. NY One's morning news anchor, Pat Kieren, tells me there's so much water they're removing from the tunnels, it's causing massive delays.
Ok. So, I can't take the subway. Let's suss out my options here...
Bus
Normally, this might be a good option, but with the roads so unpredictable and as it is a part of the system, I feel like it might not be worth the frustration. Also, the buses will probably take the hit from the subway commuters and NY One reported "highly frustrated commuters" at the Times Square bus transfer where there were too many people for the amount of buses. Yikes, no thanks.
Car Service
I'd bet, with the major roadways taking the traffic from the smaller roads that might be flooded and with the majority of the redirected and highly frustrated commuters already out there, this isn't the best option. Also, I don't want to pay $35 to get to work.
Bike
Well, this seems like it might be my only option right now. My only hesitation is that I've never made the ride. So, it's about what my body can do right now and what the streets between me and Fort Greene look like. The more I watch news and stretch on the floor, the more I hesitate to hop on my bike.
Yikes. I dunno. I'll check back in a few...
ASIDE: Here is yet another reason why I freakin heart New York: As a Midwesterner, I grew up with tornados (or threat of tornadoes) as a part of normal weather patterns. So, watching Brooklyn Boricuas describe how the winds in Bay Ridge sounded like a freight train was amazing, "Oh my God! You don' even understand! It was like, 'WHOOOOOOOOOSH!' I was like, 'Oh my God!' De whole apartment shook and I was like 'I gotta get unda somefing!' Y'know? "
I was suprised to see a few rain drops on the window when I opened the bedroom curtains this morning. The lights on my A/C unit were blinking, suggesting I'd lost power. I flipped on NY One to find out if something happened. It turns out, this morning between 6:30-7:30 am, southern Queens and southern Brooklyn had a tornado warning!
The severe weather is now headed east over Long Island, but in it's wake, it has caused street flooding throughout every borough, high wind damage (broken tree branches, roof damage, etc.), cancelled Metro North service in and out of Grand Central, and massive delays on every single subway and bus line in the system in every borough.
Hmm. How will this affect my commute?
Train
The MTA is giving a rare piece of advice: "The MTA recommends that commuters avoid the suways for the time being."
An MTA official on NY One said, "Please stay home. If you're about to leave your house: don't. We probably won't be able to get you from Point A to Point B. Every subway and bus line is affected. The commute will get better as each hour passes. Wait 30 minutes. "
The MTA website is all but shut down because so many people are hitting it. NY One's morning news anchor, Pat Kieren, tells me there's so much water they're removing from the tunnels, it's causing massive delays.
Ok. So, I can't take the subway. Let's suss out my options here...
Bus
Normally, this might be a good option, but with the roads so unpredictable and as it is a part of the system, I feel like it might not be worth the frustration. Also, the buses will probably take the hit from the subway commuters and NY One reported "highly frustrated commuters" at the Times Square bus transfer where there were too many people for the amount of buses. Yikes, no thanks.
Car Service
I'd bet, with the major roadways taking the traffic from the smaller roads that might be flooded and with the majority of the redirected and highly frustrated commuters already out there, this isn't the best option. Also, I don't want to pay $35 to get to work.
Bike
Well, this seems like it might be my only option right now. My only hesitation is that I've never made the ride. So, it's about what my body can do right now and what the streets between me and Fort Greene look like. The more I watch news and stretch on the floor, the more I hesitate to hop on my bike.
Yikes. I dunno. I'll check back in a few...
ASIDE: Here is yet another reason why I freakin heart New York: As a Midwesterner, I grew up with tornados (or threat of tornadoes) as a part of normal weather patterns. So, watching Brooklyn Boricuas describe how the winds in Bay Ridge sounded like a freight train was amazing, "Oh my God! You don' even understand! It was like, 'WHOOOOOOOOOSH!' I was like, 'Oh my God!' De whole apartment shook and I was like 'I gotta get unda somefing!' Y'know? "
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Tuesday, August 7th
Bright, humid, and hot. So muggy that when you move, you sweat.
85 degrees.
Before 9am.
N: Waited 20 minutes for the bleeding train to come. Four outbound trains crept by on the opposite side and I couldn't help but think that the massive delay wasn't caused by a train malfunction, but rather, a brain malfunction.
Who was the poor bureaucratic bastard, trapped inside his tiny, hot prison of an office at the end of Ditmars station, magnificently unconcerned about the swelling numbers of morning rush commuters multiplying on the edge of the platform? As the trainless minutes ticketed by, what was this unknown schedule he had to stick to that restricted him from sending off an inbound train, when 4 trains were at his disposal? Why why why must it be so freaking hot and--thankfully, the train arrived with A/C on full blast to relieve my brain from the suffocating August air.
7: Waited another 10 minutes for the 7 train to come into QB Plaza.
All the regulars were there like an introduction to a comic book: Vet (cane at the ready, unsuccessfully trying not to melt like Frosty in summer), Hound Dog (the petite, possibly West Indian, greying woman with bejeweled glasses straps and her sunflower dress, who obediently looks out the train windows for anything out of the ordinary. Her watch is only the length of a single stop, but she guards the train gallantly. I was standing beside her the day she got her calling: it was a breezy June morn as we passed the spaghetti-like on-ramps of the Queensborough Bridge, she, the lone witness, cried out, "Oh my God!" Seconds later, I followed the invisible line her rigid, pointed finger made out the scratch-bombed windows to see a leather-clad man sprawled on the concrete, his motorcycle lying sideways 15 feet from where he lay.), Fussy Asian Doctor in scrubs and the rest of the motley crew: Annoyed Day Laborer, Blasting iPod Man, and Tireless Baby. The only one missing was Italian Stallion (the frustrated, squat, middle-aged woman who always gives me disapproving looks when I wait along side her at QB Plaza).
Finally the train arrived and we manned our posts: Vet melted, Hound Dog stared, Asian doctor fussed, and I wondered what I'd do if I found out that I was linked genetically to a reckless and evil villain like Voledmort.
G: The commuter flood washed over me, I copped a seat and tried to fight the encroaching migraine (thanks to my constricted sinuses)...which felt like my scar was burning...
85 degrees.
Before 9am.
N: Waited 20 minutes for the bleeding train to come. Four outbound trains crept by on the opposite side and I couldn't help but think that the massive delay wasn't caused by a train malfunction, but rather, a brain malfunction.
Who was the poor bureaucratic bastard, trapped inside his tiny, hot prison of an office at the end of Ditmars station, magnificently unconcerned about the swelling numbers of morning rush commuters multiplying on the edge of the platform? As the trainless minutes ticketed by, what was this unknown schedule he had to stick to that restricted him from sending off an inbound train, when 4 trains were at his disposal? Why why why must it be so freaking hot and--thankfully, the train arrived with A/C on full blast to relieve my brain from the suffocating August air.
7: Waited another 10 minutes for the 7 train to come into QB Plaza.
All the regulars were there like an introduction to a comic book: Vet (cane at the ready, unsuccessfully trying not to melt like Frosty in summer), Hound Dog (the petite, possibly West Indian, greying woman with bejeweled glasses straps and her sunflower dress, who obediently looks out the train windows for anything out of the ordinary. Her watch is only the length of a single stop, but she guards the train gallantly. I was standing beside her the day she got her calling: it was a breezy June morn as we passed the spaghetti-like on-ramps of the Queensborough Bridge, she, the lone witness, cried out, "Oh my God!" Seconds later, I followed the invisible line her rigid, pointed finger made out the scratch-bombed windows to see a leather-clad man sprawled on the concrete, his motorcycle lying sideways 15 feet from where he lay.), Fussy Asian Doctor in scrubs and the rest of the motley crew: Annoyed Day Laborer, Blasting iPod Man, and Tireless Baby. The only one missing was Italian Stallion (the frustrated, squat, middle-aged woman who always gives me disapproving looks when I wait along side her at QB Plaza).
Finally the train arrived and we manned our posts: Vet melted, Hound Dog stared, Asian doctor fussed, and I wondered what I'd do if I found out that I was linked genetically to a reckless and evil villain like Voledmort.
G: The commuter flood washed over me, I copped a seat and tried to fight the encroaching migraine (thanks to my constricted sinuses)...which felt like my scar was burning...
Monday, August 6, 2007
Monday, August 6th
Overcast, humid, threat of rain. 75 degrees.
Before 9 am.
N: A striking image of old-world-meets-new greeted me at the top of the platform stairs: a woman in a floor-length navy blue burka, a shadowy sliver for eyes, and black silk gloves was chatting on her hot pink Razor phone.
A new train arrived as I reached the mid-point of the platform.
Once on the train, I recognized the mousy brunette standing next to me, but couldn't remember how I knew her. I tried to place her in context for a few stops, but aborted the attempts to connect myself to her as she absent-mindedly leaned her whole body against the pole, crushing my hand with her back.
7: I smashed into a few aggro commuters who plowed into me as I got off the train. Train arrived as I reached the end of the platform.
G: One of the only seats open was at the end of the first car where I found a blond woman in her 20's wearing cut-offs and an iPod. She made the unorthodoxed decision to sit in the middle seat of the three-seat row, and put her oversized bag on the far seat next to the door.
I looked down at her, silently urging her to move over so we can have a seat of bags to separate us. She defiantly stared back at me, daring me to sit down next to her. The doors closed with a bing-bong, I pursed my lips and sat down beside her. She scoffed and got off at the next stop, but I hardly noticed because I realized I only have 150 pages left in Harry Potter!
Before 9 am.
N: A striking image of old-world-meets-new greeted me at the top of the platform stairs: a woman in a floor-length navy blue burka, a shadowy sliver for eyes, and black silk gloves was chatting on her hot pink Razor phone.
A new train arrived as I reached the mid-point of the platform.
Once on the train, I recognized the mousy brunette standing next to me, but couldn't remember how I knew her. I tried to place her in context for a few stops, but aborted the attempts to connect myself to her as she absent-mindedly leaned her whole body against the pole, crushing my hand with her back.
7: I smashed into a few aggro commuters who plowed into me as I got off the train. Train arrived as I reached the end of the platform.
G: One of the only seats open was at the end of the first car where I found a blond woman in her 20's wearing cut-offs and an iPod. She made the unorthodoxed decision to sit in the middle seat of the three-seat row, and put her oversized bag on the far seat next to the door.
I looked down at her, silently urging her to move over so we can have a seat of bags to separate us. She defiantly stared back at me, daring me to sit down next to her. The doors closed with a bing-bong, I pursed my lips and sat down beside her. She scoffed and got off at the next stop, but I hardly noticed because I realized I only have 150 pages left in Harry Potter!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Tuesday, July 31st
Last day of July: how can that be?
Beautiful, light blue skies. 75 degrees.
Left the house at 8:14am.
N: Cloudless skies meant only a few "brave" commuters actually left the protection of the station's awning for the outer reaches of the platform and into the uninterrupted sunlight. I was enveloped by the marvelous solar warmth as I strolled slowly to the end of the practically-abandoned platform.
Then, as quickly as sparks emit from under a passing subway car, a clique of commuters encircled me. "Where the hell...?" I asked myself as I looked back to see not a single other person between the dark shadow being cast by the rusted station roof and the impromptu gathering huddled too close for comfort. Just as I tried to ignore the other bodies radiating early summer morning heat, the train came screaming around the bend and the Astorians scattered to position themselves infront of their favorite door on the train.
Rest of the ride was Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows.
7: Train came after a few mintues on the platform. It was a little croweded, but filled with amusing kinds of people: A petite Latin woman stood easily one foot under the stretched-out arms of a bugged-eyed Middle Eastern man, a tiny Asian toddler bellowed mercilessly from the other end of the car, a sleepy, youthful blonde clutched her tote for balance.
G: To put it the nice way, morning G train riders are like water: they find the fastest escape route possible. Meaning, if you have a staircase bisected by a railing, creating 4 possible lanes of traffic (2 lanes up, 2 lanes down), morning G train riders will use all 4 lanes. This means those poor reverse commuters (a.k.a. myself) feel like salmon attempting to jump up the waterfall.
But, this little fishy has finally learned, after 5 months of facing this reverse commute, to stand my ground, remain in my lane and use my purse as defense...
Once on the train, the rest of the ride was Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows.
Beautiful, light blue skies. 75 degrees.
Left the house at 8:14am.
N: Cloudless skies meant only a few "brave" commuters actually left the protection of the station's awning for the outer reaches of the platform and into the uninterrupted sunlight. I was enveloped by the marvelous solar warmth as I strolled slowly to the end of the practically-abandoned platform.
Then, as quickly as sparks emit from under a passing subway car, a clique of commuters encircled me. "Where the hell...?" I asked myself as I looked back to see not a single other person between the dark shadow being cast by the rusted station roof and the impromptu gathering huddled too close for comfort. Just as I tried to ignore the other bodies radiating early summer morning heat, the train came screaming around the bend and the Astorians scattered to position themselves infront of their favorite door on the train.
Rest of the ride was Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows.
7: Train came after a few mintues on the platform. It was a little croweded, but filled with amusing kinds of people: A petite Latin woman stood easily one foot under the stretched-out arms of a bugged-eyed Middle Eastern man, a tiny Asian toddler bellowed mercilessly from the other end of the car, a sleepy, youthful blonde clutched her tote for balance.
G: To put it the nice way, morning G train riders are like water: they find the fastest escape route possible. Meaning, if you have a staircase bisected by a railing, creating 4 possible lanes of traffic (2 lanes up, 2 lanes down), morning G train riders will use all 4 lanes. This means those poor reverse commuters (a.k.a. myself) feel like salmon attempting to jump up the waterfall.
But, this little fishy has finally learned, after 5 months of facing this reverse commute, to stand my ground, remain in my lane and use my purse as defense...
Once on the train, the rest of the ride was Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Monday, July 30th
8:40 a.m. Nice morning breeze. 77 degrees. Easy sunshine.
All trains came right as I stepped onto the platform.
N: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince pg. 516-519
7: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince pg. 520
G: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince pg. 521-548
All trains came right as I stepped onto the platform.
N: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince pg. 516-519
7: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince pg. 520
G: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince pg. 521-548
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Thursday, July 26th
Before 9 am. Sunny, bright, kinda humid.
N: Came right away. Got a seat across from the driver's door, which was open! I got to watch him drive the train. It seems like it really only takes two levers. And you pump on of them to make the train go faster. I'm sure it's more complicated than that, but he seemed bored, so maybe not.
7: Train was waiting. There's a really rotund commuter who I think is a vet (maybe it's the black fatigues, maybe it's the cane), who I commute with sometimes. He bumped me out of the way to get onto the 7. Both trains were waiting, so I just kind of laughed. It felt like I was in the bumper cars.
G: Made the transfer as the doors were closing, smooth ride.
N: Came right away. Got a seat across from the driver's door, which was open! I got to watch him drive the train. It seems like it really only takes two levers. And you pump on of them to make the train go faster. I'm sure it's more complicated than that, but he seemed bored, so maybe not.
7: Train was waiting. There's a really rotund commuter who I think is a vet (maybe it's the black fatigues, maybe it's the cane), who I commute with sometimes. He bumped me out of the way to get onto the 7. Both trains were waiting, so I just kind of laughed. It felt like I was in the bumper cars.
G: Made the transfer as the doors were closing, smooth ride.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Wednesday, July 25th
8:53 am. Sunny, humid, 76 degrees.
N: New train came right away. Nothing to note except a homeless transvestite kept bumping into me when the train pulled out of the stations, but he/she was very sweet about apologizing.
7: Smooth transfer.
G: Fast, easy ride with Harry Potter 6 in tow (I'm rereading the book I hated so much, so I can appreciate the final installment). The only thing is, someone next to me kept farting. I think it was the tall Asian guy with the pony tail who kept fussing with his deli coffee. Eh.
N: New train came right away. Nothing to note except a homeless transvestite kept bumping into me when the train pulled out of the stations, but he/she was very sweet about apologizing.
7: Smooth transfer.
G: Fast, easy ride with Harry Potter 6 in tow (I'm rereading the book I hated so much, so I can appreciate the final installment). The only thing is, someone next to me kept farting. I think it was the tall Asian guy with the pony tail who kept fussing with his deli coffee. Eh.
Last Thursday, July 19th
Before 9am. Torrential down pour.
N: Slow on the tracks. Windows all fogged up.
7: Smooth transfer.
G: Eventless ride until Clinton-Washington (one-stop before Fulton). I looked up from my book, Lewis B. Cullman's inspiring autobiography, Can't Take it with You: The Art of Giving and Making Money, and noticed a very tall male rider, who was perched on the opposite side of the train, now suddenly positioned in front of me. I noted him before because he was drenched, from his sopping wet curls to his soggy Tevas, and clutched in his arms a flat, rectangular cardboard box with a folded, black garbage bag draped over the top.
I wondered what cargo that ill-prepared man might have inside that poorly-wrapped box. Lately, I’ve been trying to give people the benefit of the doubt, so in that spirit, I thought, “Maybe he made brightly frosted cupcakes for a mid-morning brunch with friends. Yes, cupcakes, that's it.” Satisfied, I returned to my book.
At Fulton, I popped off the train and began to climb the stairs to the street, when a voice behind me quipped, "I'm surprised you took it with you…"
I stopped with alarm: had I left something on the train that a fellow passenger was trying to tell me about? My brain did not quite put the words together. I turned and saw it was the man with the cupcakes!
He said again, "I'm surprised you took it with you." But, this time he gestured with his head towards the book in my hands.
Oh no he didn't.
Cupcake did NOT just try to use that as a pick up line. On the G train. In the pouring rain. At 9:30 in the morning. Before my morning cup of coffee.
To thwart another embarrassing, rather desperate, attempt to court me, I coldly said, "It's a book about fundraising."
"Wha…," I heard him say as I left him in my dust, taking two steps at a time.
"Oh! I’m a fundraiser! I'm having lunch with a billionaire this week," he hollered back, enlightened.
"That's great," I uttered absent-mindedly, as I emerged at street-level, opened my enormous, black golf umbrella and began walking quickly towards Le Bagel Delight, a neighborhood bagel shop run by former firemen, for an iced coffee and a bagel.
“I run a non-profit canoe launch,” he offered, hot on my trail.
Just as I reached the curb, the light turned red and cars blocked my escape route. Dammit, I sighed. I kept looking straight ahead. I could feel him standing next to me.
Fine, I resigned. Fine, fine, I will awknowledge you. Not like I have much of a choice, seeing as I don't particularly feel like being totally rude first thing in the morning. I turned towards him. He was grinning foolishly. I wondered whether or not this guy was really as much of a freak as the circumstances upon his introduction made him seem, of if he was just a crunchy, outdoorsy-type, unaccustomed to the ways of the big city.
Suddenly, he exclaimed, “I have a bird in my box!”
“A bird in your box?” I repeated dumbly.
“A baby sparrow!” he replied, eagerly. Without missing a beat, he told me how no vet wanted the tiny lost creature, so he was determined to nurse it back to health himself.
I warmed a little, “Well, I guess you’re doing your part in the Universe.”
Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, I thought. I’ll wait for just one more sign to confirm that…
Right on cue, a deafening clap of thunder exploded directly overhead, followed immediately by a very threatening, bright bolt of lightening that ripped across the sky—directly over Cupcake’s head.
Ok, Universe, I can take a hint.
“BYE!” I announced as I bounded off the curb towards refuge of Le Bag.
“So, what do you do…” I heard him trail off.
I didn’t even turn around, I couldn’t. Please don’t follow me, please don’t follow me, please don’t follow me.
He didn’t follow me.
Hope the sparrow makes it.
N: Slow on the tracks. Windows all fogged up.
7: Smooth transfer.
G: Eventless ride until Clinton-Washington (one-stop before Fulton). I looked up from my book, Lewis B. Cullman's inspiring autobiography, Can't Take it with You: The Art of Giving and Making Money, and noticed a very tall male rider, who was perched on the opposite side of the train, now suddenly positioned in front of me. I noted him before because he was drenched, from his sopping wet curls to his soggy Tevas, and clutched in his arms a flat, rectangular cardboard box with a folded, black garbage bag draped over the top.
I wondered what cargo that ill-prepared man might have inside that poorly-wrapped box. Lately, I’ve been trying to give people the benefit of the doubt, so in that spirit, I thought, “Maybe he made brightly frosted cupcakes for a mid-morning brunch with friends. Yes, cupcakes, that's it.” Satisfied, I returned to my book.
At Fulton, I popped off the train and began to climb the stairs to the street, when a voice behind me quipped, "I'm surprised you took it with you…"
I stopped with alarm: had I left something on the train that a fellow passenger was trying to tell me about? My brain did not quite put the words together. I turned and saw it was the man with the cupcakes!
He said again, "I'm surprised you took it with you." But, this time he gestured with his head towards the book in my hands.
Oh no he didn't.
Cupcake did NOT just try to use that as a pick up line. On the G train. In the pouring rain. At 9:30 in the morning. Before my morning cup of coffee.
To thwart another embarrassing, rather desperate, attempt to court me, I coldly said, "It's a book about fundraising."
"Wha…," I heard him say as I left him in my dust, taking two steps at a time.
"Oh! I’m a fundraiser! I'm having lunch with a billionaire this week," he hollered back, enlightened.
"That's great," I uttered absent-mindedly, as I emerged at street-level, opened my enormous, black golf umbrella and began walking quickly towards Le Bagel Delight, a neighborhood bagel shop run by former firemen, for an iced coffee and a bagel.
“I run a non-profit canoe launch,” he offered, hot on my trail.
Just as I reached the curb, the light turned red and cars blocked my escape route. Dammit, I sighed. I kept looking straight ahead. I could feel him standing next to me.
Fine, I resigned. Fine, fine, I will awknowledge you. Not like I have much of a choice, seeing as I don't particularly feel like being totally rude first thing in the morning. I turned towards him. He was grinning foolishly. I wondered whether or not this guy was really as much of a freak as the circumstances upon his introduction made him seem, of if he was just a crunchy, outdoorsy-type, unaccustomed to the ways of the big city.
Suddenly, he exclaimed, “I have a bird in my box!”
“A bird in your box?” I repeated dumbly.
“A baby sparrow!” he replied, eagerly. Without missing a beat, he told me how no vet wanted the tiny lost creature, so he was determined to nurse it back to health himself.
I warmed a little, “Well, I guess you’re doing your part in the Universe.”
Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, I thought. I’ll wait for just one more sign to confirm that…
Right on cue, a deafening clap of thunder exploded directly overhead, followed immediately by a very threatening, bright bolt of lightening that ripped across the sky—directly over Cupcake’s head.
Ok, Universe, I can take a hint.
“BYE!” I announced as I bounded off the curb towards refuge of Le Bag.
“So, what do you do…” I heard him trail off.
I didn’t even turn around, I couldn’t. Please don’t follow me, please don’t follow me, please don’t follow me.
He didn’t follow me.
Hope the sparrow makes it.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
First Post
I live in Queens and work in Brooklyn.
This blog will be an account of my daily commute. It is from the suggestion of my boss who said, "You are funny and you have an awful commute. Please write a blog." So it is done.
It takes me 3 trains to get to work (the N/W* [my stop to Queensborough Plaza] to the 7 [Queensborough Plaza one stop to 45th Road-Court House Square] to the G [Court Square to Fulton Street]).
I'd like to dedicate this blog to the engineers of the subway of yester-year: the developers of the BRT, BMT, IRT, IND, and all the other acronym trainlines that make-up today's New York City subway system, the MTA. Consider this a shout out to those fearless men who created over 686 miles of track, all of which flows through Manhattan.
All except one.
Those men-of-the-future created one, single, solitary train to make the long haul between the "outer boroughs", the Brooklyn-Queens crosstown local train: the G. The G allowed for the working population residing in Queens and/or Brooklyn a convenient commute between the two.
However, in recent years, "convenient" has taken on a new definition: G train service has been cut in half, train length has been shortened from 6 cars to 4, the MTA frequently closes end-of-platform exits, and has severed access to other more reliable trains by terminating service half-way through the length of the line.
Please don't misunderstand, I am not complaining about riding the subway. I love public transportation. Hell, it's part of why I moved to New York (4 years ago, when I made the decision to move from Chicago to New York, the thought of being stuck in a car in traffic gave me a headache. Now I realize, the headaches were the result of the massive amounts of alcohol I was consuming. Regardless, the point remains.).
It's just, the subways, like the New York City streets above, are riddled with crazy people.
And I mean that term in the broadest sense of the word: from those struggling with varying degrees of mental illness to the drunk Broadway back-up dancer who refuses to stop performing his favorite part of that night's show... at 8:45am. And whenever you sprinkle a little crazy into the equation, it's time to "Publish Post."
So, enjoy, gentlemen.
This is the fruit of your labor.
*The W line tied for "Worst" of the 22 lines in the system by The Straphangers Campaign.
This blog will be an account of my daily commute. It is from the suggestion of my boss who said, "You are funny and you have an awful commute. Please write a blog." So it is done.
It takes me 3 trains to get to work (the N/W* [my stop to Queensborough Plaza] to the 7 [Queensborough Plaza one stop to 45th Road-Court House Square] to the G [Court Square to Fulton Street]).
I'd like to dedicate this blog to the engineers of the subway of yester-year: the developers of the BRT, BMT, IRT, IND, and all the other acronym trainlines that make-up today's New York City subway system, the MTA. Consider this a shout out to those fearless men who created over 686 miles of track, all of which flows through Manhattan.
All except one.
Those men-of-the-future created one, single, solitary train to make the long haul between the "outer boroughs", the Brooklyn-Queens crosstown local train: the G. The G allowed for the working population residing in Queens and/or Brooklyn a convenient commute between the two.
However, in recent years, "convenient" has taken on a new definition: G train service has been cut in half, train length has been shortened from 6 cars to 4, the MTA frequently closes end-of-platform exits, and has severed access to other more reliable trains by terminating service half-way through the length of the line.
Please don't misunderstand, I am not complaining about riding the subway. I love public transportation. Hell, it's part of why I moved to New York (4 years ago, when I made the decision to move from Chicago to New York, the thought of being stuck in a car in traffic gave me a headache. Now I realize, the headaches were the result of the massive amounts of alcohol I was consuming. Regardless, the point remains.).
It's just, the subways, like the New York City streets above, are riddled with crazy people.
And I mean that term in the broadest sense of the word: from those struggling with varying degrees of mental illness to the drunk Broadway back-up dancer who refuses to stop performing his favorite part of that night's show... at 8:45am. And whenever you sprinkle a little crazy into the equation, it's time to "Publish Post."
So, enjoy, gentlemen.
This is the fruit of your labor.
*The W line tied for "Worst" of the 22 lines in the system by The Straphangers Campaign.
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