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.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
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.
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