Because the "Fuck Off or I'll Kill Myself" tat was taken.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Friday, September 5, 2008
I have to be straight with you, dear reader: ignoring is bliss.
Ok.
So, I have to tell you something.
I made a conscious decision to cut down on my daily subway reports because, well, frankly, it was getting to me.
Many of you have approached me in search of the answer as to why I've been such a slacker at reporting the news of what, and who, is down there. So, I must come clean to everyone.
It's like this: The more you start to pay attention to who, and what, is around you, the harder it gets to detach from it and ignore it.
And the harder it is to pretend the city you love isn't filled with finger-nail-clipping a-holes who will throw garbage under the seat, sneeze out into the great open air without a hand for cover in sight, and then stare you down like a predator when you look away (A brief aside to all you blog-savvy subway predators out there: Do us a favor, hop on the Q101 Limited, get off at the last stop, then try that shit.).
But, more importantly, the hardest thing to do is to NOT to get really, really angry at the MTA.
The MTA raised our monthly rates in the beginning of the year because they promised station clean-ups, better trains and more buses on deserted outer-borough routes. But instead of keeping their promise, they announced that their accounting was wrong and they need to raise the prices again. (Insert joke about how if I tried that, I'd have this much.)
Sigh.
Anyway. There are some positive changes to report.
The new N trains are great. Clean and sleek and they do make the ride go faster. And, like some reverse-disease, they're spreading to the "worst" of the lines: to the W and M. I mean, it's basically like putting a new suite on someone who lives on the street. You can dress 'em up as nice as you want, but those finger nails are still filthy.
So. Yeah.
That's where I've been. Not fixating on the MTA's finger nails.
I will say this: I don't have the 3-train commute anymore, because I left my job in Brooklyn. But, guess what? I started freelancing in Newark and that requires an hour and a half commute on the MTA and NJ Transit and sometimes the Newark Light Rail. Jersey really is a fascinating place. I mean, 5 minutes outside Manhattan are dirt roads and wheat fields. WTF?
But, I digress.
And man it's feels good.
So, I have to tell you something.
I made a conscious decision to cut down on my daily subway reports because, well, frankly, it was getting to me.
Many of you have approached me in search of the answer as to why I've been such a slacker at reporting the news of what, and who, is down there. So, I must come clean to everyone.
It's like this: The more you start to pay attention to who, and what, is around you, the harder it gets to detach from it and ignore it.
And the harder it is to pretend the city you love isn't filled with finger-nail-clipping a-holes who will throw garbage under the seat, sneeze out into the great open air without a hand for cover in sight, and then stare you down like a predator when you look away (A brief aside to all you blog-savvy subway predators out there: Do us a favor, hop on the Q101 Limited, get off at the last stop, then try that shit.).
But, more importantly, the hardest thing to do is to NOT to get really, really angry at the MTA.
The MTA raised our monthly rates in the beginning of the year because they promised station clean-ups, better trains and more buses on deserted outer-borough routes. But instead of keeping their promise, they announced that their accounting was wrong and they need to raise the prices again. (Insert joke about how if I tried that, I'd have this much.)
Sigh.
Anyway. There are some positive changes to report.
The new N trains are great. Clean and sleek and they do make the ride go faster. And, like some reverse-disease, they're spreading to the "worst" of the lines: to the W and M. I mean, it's basically like putting a new suite on someone who lives on the street. You can dress 'em up as nice as you want, but those finger nails are still filthy.
So. Yeah.
That's where I've been. Not fixating on the MTA's finger nails.
I will say this: I don't have the 3-train commute anymore, because I left my job in Brooklyn. But, guess what? I started freelancing in Newark and that requires an hour and a half commute on the MTA and NJ Transit and sometimes the Newark Light Rail. Jersey really is a fascinating place. I mean, 5 minutes outside Manhattan are dirt roads and wheat fields. WTF?
But, I digress.
And man it's feels good.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Last week: In the Blink of an Axl
So, I'm riding the N to work late last week, when I noticed that the train car was having one of those rare moments-of-silence, where not even the train seems to make any noise.
And just as I closed my eyes to begin to relax into that silence and calm, a large, muscular, mustacheo-ed, middle-aged man wearing a cheap-looking snap-button-up 70s floral-patterned shirt and these huge, old headphones sat on me.
As half of his rotund buttocks squished onto my left leg, I was simualtaneously assulted by the indisciferable pounding of drums and guitar eminating from his damned headphones. Without looking over, he readjusted himself onto the actual seat beside me.
In a split-second, I was pissed off for being squished and for having that moment of meditation shattered. Right as I was about to utter words of outrage at this daft fellow, my brain suddenly locked onto the song blasting at top volume:
Guns N' Roses "November Rain"
And then, just as quickly, I wasn't mad at all.
Of course this guys is in his own world, I thought. Hey, listen, sometimes, you need some time on your own. Don't you know you need some time, all alone? Wherever this dude was, if he needs to blast GNR at top volume, first thing in the morning, he's in a bad place and who the hell am I to take him away from those precious 8 minutes and 57 seconds?
I can certainly identify with needing to have a few minutes of total escape by turning up music really, really loudly. Even if it means I loose all control of my faculties.
Listen, why waste time being angry when we both know, nothing lasts forever? And, we both know hearts can change.
Especially in the cold N train.
And just as I closed my eyes to begin to relax into that silence and calm, a large, muscular, mustacheo-ed, middle-aged man wearing a cheap-looking snap-button-up 70s floral-patterned shirt and these huge, old headphones sat on me.
As half of his rotund buttocks squished onto my left leg, I was simualtaneously assulted by the indisciferable pounding of drums and guitar eminating from his damned headphones. Without looking over, he readjusted himself onto the actual seat beside me.
In a split-second, I was pissed off for being squished and for having that moment of meditation shattered. Right as I was about to utter words of outrage at this daft fellow, my brain suddenly locked onto the song blasting at top volume:
Guns N' Roses "November Rain"
And then, just as quickly, I wasn't mad at all.
Of course this guys is in his own world, I thought. Hey, listen, sometimes, you need some time on your own. Don't you know you need some time, all alone? Wherever this dude was, if he needs to blast GNR at top volume, first thing in the morning, he's in a bad place and who the hell am I to take him away from those precious 8 minutes and 57 seconds?
I can certainly identify with needing to have a few minutes of total escape by turning up music really, really loudly. Even if it means I loose all control of my faculties.
Listen, why waste time being angry when we both know, nothing lasts forever? And, we both know hearts can change.
Especially in the cold N train.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Why Can't We Be Friends
POSTER: "Lean on your best friend for the $50 he owes you. But don't lean on the subway doors. It's dangerous--you block other people."MTA, we need to talk.
You need to get over this "best friend" of yours. I know, I know. He promised that you guys would get to hang out. Promised that you guys would be together from Coney Island to City Island. But, MTA. He isn't giving you your money back.
MTA, he's not coming back.
So, you have to stop taking this out on us. So many millions of commuters try hard to love you. We know you're serious about saftey. So, if it means that much to you, please, take the $50 bucks. C'mon. Take it. Go on. TAKE IT. You big lug. We love you. Atta' boy.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Monday, January 14th
At 7:15a it was sunny. Then, by 7:30p it was grey again. 36 degrees.
Train book: Hunt for Red October. This morning I read the section when the Russian fighter pilot was embarrassed during an assignment by two American jets. Tension is building over the Atlantic!
7:55a
N: I ran into my friend, Trish, on the walk to the train. She's pretty great. We parted ways at Dunkin' Donuts and I went up to the train. As I got to the platform, four slow-moving people waddled their way through the crowd as the train pulled into the station. As someone who needs to be at the front of the train, I did my best not to push these fellow riders in front of the train (that would only delay me more) and snaked around them at the last minute.
7: Crowded platform. Crowded train. I ran into the middle of the second car only to have some dude's backpack keep jabbing me in the ribs. It was too much so I gently pushed back enough for him to look up and kindly, but vaguely said, "Ah, your bag..."
G: Crowded and full of idiots. Since I've been heading to work early (we're 3 weeks without a boss at work, so an hour of quiet in the morning helps pick up the slack), I'm riding with the Brooklyn Tech High School crowd. Call me a curmudgeon, but I could do without the early morning shenanigans. How the hell do teachers do it?
Train book: Hunt for Red October. This morning I read the section when the Russian fighter pilot was embarrassed during an assignment by two American jets. Tension is building over the Atlantic!
7:55a
N: I ran into my friend, Trish, on the walk to the train. She's pretty great. We parted ways at Dunkin' Donuts and I went up to the train. As I got to the platform, four slow-moving people waddled their way through the crowd as the train pulled into the station. As someone who needs to be at the front of the train, I did my best not to push these fellow riders in front of the train (that would only delay me more) and snaked around them at the last minute.
7: Crowded platform. Crowded train. I ran into the middle of the second car only to have some dude's backpack keep jabbing me in the ribs. It was too much so I gently pushed back enough for him to look up and kindly, but vaguely said, "Ah, your bag..."
G: Crowded and full of idiots. Since I've been heading to work early (we're 3 weeks without a boss at work, so an hour of quiet in the morning helps pick up the slack), I'm riding with the Brooklyn Tech High School crowd. Call me a curmudgeon, but I could do without the early morning shenanigans. How the hell do teachers do it?
Monday, December 3, 2007
Monday, December 3rd
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
