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.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
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.
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