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.