I spent the morning in the 14th Street subway station dodging New Yorkers and taking pictures. My final in my Authoring class is to make a website of art work from one of the many subway stations (no, graffiti doesn't count). I chose 14th and 8th. I love those little guys and seeing as it is apart of my daily commute, it seemed fitting.Now writing a blog about it is a form of procrastination. Anyone want to edit these for me? ugh. I'm glad I can rule out being a photographer or a web designer. Both of which I am not cut out for.
Another fabulous commute! What can I say? Things like that really affect you. No wonder so many New Yorkers are miserable. Their commute is crowded, jerky and smelly. I'd be in a bad mood, too, if that was the beginning of my morning (and I usually am). Most mornings my train isn't obnoxiously crowded (if I leave late enough. Sacrificing being on time to work, but ask me if I care.) I can only imagine the trains downtown. I know it's a much trendier area to live, but my sanity is much more important to me.
And it was a New- Music Morning (which you should know by now are my favorite mornings! It's always great motivation. If you get your ass out of bed right now you can listen to 3 extra new songs on the train) so of course, I'm in a good mood.
But not good enough to endure stupid co-workers. I will still very bluntly state "Go. Away." and turn up the ipod so I cannot hear their response.
I had an awesome experience on a rooftop in Brooklyn (just in case you weren't able to sleep not knowing). It involved a stroll through a neighborhood that emulated a ghetto (the fireworks were seriously sounding like gunshots and I was scared for about .5 seconds, for the first time ever in New York), a few too many Ketel Ones (I swore off vodka in high school and therefore blaming that on my inability to measure my tolerance correctly- but hey! There was an open bar- beggars cannot be choosy) and another stroll through Park Slope (which I am referring to as the March of Death. I believe it was 1.5 miles in which my sandals refused to stay on my feet. Damn Steve Madden- it had nothing to do with my intoxicated state I swear). From said rooftop we could see the fireworks (aka my vacation and sick time literally going up in smoke) from the Hudson and others from the other side of Brooklyn.
After passing out at a bar, getting a ride to the subway by a man I had no idea who he was, (but apparently he was friends with a friend I was with- don't freak out and tell my momma) we had a photoshoot while sitting on the subway platform (I am going to justify this that the particular Brooklyn station was impeccably clean) then I passed out fully dressed on my bed. YaY! for Independence from Britain.
My childhood friend from CT came in town to join in the festivities and we spent Saturday in Coney Island. We (being me) decided it would be a GREAT plan to eat a famous Nathan's hotdog (which was actually quite amazing and I didn't puke it up much to the contrary popular belief), ride an f-ingrollercoaster (have I mentioned I hate wooden rollercoasters? And I don't care if the Cyclone does rate on all the top 10 lists! I'm too old for that shit. My neck still hurts) and then rehydrate my drunkenness from the night before with a beer at a sketchy bar (who am I kidding? Sketchy is the only word to describe the entirety of CI) on the boardwalk. It was totally the hour and a half subway ride.
Even though I am highly aware this sounds like I am bitching, I actually had an amazing highly eventful weekend (which is a good change from all the other ones). The parts I remember anyway.
This bar cracked me up. I wonder if a lifeguard actually sits there?
And this is my scary clown shirt :-) It's a little disturbing but I think that's why I like it so much.
I understand that the appeal of the subway stairs leads you to the uncontrollable need to want to sight see the pre-chewed gum along the handrails, the grime caked floors that haven't been cleaned since you were a child and the urine stains along the walls, but seeing as we just met, let me tell you something about me. I lack the patient gene (and my morning coffee) and I also work about an avenue and a half away from the subway- which takes about 3-5 minutes of brisk walking depending on how awake I am. I also, like to sleep in my warm bed until the very last second and then spent the rest of the morning rushing around. This is why they have express trains and this is why I need to be on the express staircase (what is an express staircase you ask? Whatever one I am on at the moment, for future reference). You, sir, need the local/ scenic staircase which is only available during the hours of 10am to noon and 2pm to 4pm.
So yes, I am going to "accidentally" kick you and flat tire you as punishment for being a dumbass as you get to the top of the staircase, stop and decide you want to look at the piss stained walls in detail. Thank you. Because of you, I got stuck behind a bus (lady, seriously, if you are that large hasn't anyone ever told you not to buy a yellow jacket?! Normally I would never make fun of your weight but you are blocking the entire sidewalk!) and Bozo (That hair color is ok on a 22 year old punk rock hipster NOT a 35 year old professional spinster, fire your stylist immediately) who insisted on walking next to each other slower than a snail because obviously when you get old and fat walking and talking at the same time is a difficult task.
You, Tweedledee and Tweedledum are obviously the reason there is a nine day waiting period to buy a gun.
So, as I read blogs and avoid work, I of course find this entertaining yet extremely disturbing video and I realize I never documented MY experience in Grand Central, which has now scarred me for life and I cannot believe I had forgotten.
So for your viewing enjoyment: Me, The Duffel Bag and Grand Central.
Because I am a stubborn stubborn stupid woman, I decided I was not going to spend the holidays in New Orleans with my family, but that is neither here nor there. The point is I spent Christmas in Connecticut with family friends. And in order to get there I had to take The Metro North which is out of Grand Central. And let me just tell you, being in the middle of one of the busiest places in the world on one of the busiest traveling days of the year gives a whole new meaning to "Grand Central Station".
So, there I am, it's Christmas Eve and I am in a recockulously long line waiting to get my ticket. And in these extremely nervous moments (because I have never ridden a real train before and I hoped to god I was in the right line, I hoped I'd buy the right ticket because knowing me I would buy a ticket to East Jesusland and not know the difference and I hoped I was going to get on the right train because lord knows this place is HUGE, etc.) I notice two very large duffel bags in the middle of the floor unattended. My first reaction as a human being was whatever. They'll be back. But as I stood there, the longer they went unattended the wilder my vivid imagination ran.
I began to sweat. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Who was I supposed to alert? And did I really want to get out of line? I looked behind me, and the line had tripled since I have gotten there. My train was set to leave in 20 minutes, did I really want to risk it? (Yes, I am highly aware I am NOT the poster child for the See something, Say something campaign.)
So then my thoughts move on as I continue to look at the bags, look away for a second and then look back praying to Allah someone would come claim them. I continue to do this for a good 10 minutes (ok it was like 1 or 2, but it felt like forever in my crazy mind). Like, what the hell would I do if it exploded? Well, I wouldn't have time to do a damn thing but soil my leggings and burn being this close. Did dying hurt? Hopefully I wouldn't feel anything. My remains probably wouldn't be identifiable and how was my mother going to know I was even there? I mean, I guess people would figure it out eventually but I hadn't even updated my will (which is totally not a legit will. When I was younger, every time I would get on a plane I would allot all my things out in case it crashed. Optimistic, I know) because who would have thought a terrorist would be so evil to blow up Grand Central on a holiday? Wait. Did those kinds of people even celebrate Baby Jesus' birth?
Then a man walks up to it with a few ladies in tow. Obviously the owner of the suspicious bags went to find his family. They begin to unload their bags into the pile. This should have eased my concern, but alas it didn't. The family happened to be terrorist looking (ok. I'm allowed to say this. I am from middle eastern decent and I wasn't being prejudice for chrissake. I just had multiple mini-heart attacks over this and to have Mohammad and family show up, scared the shit out of me even more).
As I continue to watch, I see he has something black in his hand (a DETONATOR!!! my vivid imagination screamed) and he was pointing to the bags. My effin heart stopped. O. my. god. He was going to blow up all of us, including what looked like his mother, wife and children- but then again didn't their insane religion believe in that kind of stuff? Killing innocent people, including the woman who gave birth to you? I was certain I was going to die. I closed my eyes and waited for the blow. This was it. My life sucked and it was ending right then and I hadn't had good sex in months.
I slowly opened one eye and fought the urge to feel if my body was in one piece (like I was the crazy one). Yea. It was a cell phone and I'm an ass and I made it to Connecticut in one piece but I assure you, I am missing a few years of my life.
So, as entertaining as it might be for these asshat theater people to stage something like this- my blood pressure and therapist would greatly appreciate if you would continue your personal jackassery elsewhere. Like a mall:
That's the great thing about New York. If you missed church on Sunday, if you're lucky enough someone will preach to you in the subway. This morning's sermon, in case you weren't on the downtown A train, was quite disturbing including "Everyone DIES. 14,000 people die everyday. . .people just like us in this cramped subway car" and a few misquotes from Relevations. Needless to say, Im glad I got to work this morning. Somewhere between 81st and 59th, I wasn't so sure.
And the hot topic on every New Yorker's lips seems to be this scandal. This is not news to the native New Orleanian, where we are the capital of corrupt sex scandals. Move on, people. I rate this one a big fat DUH!
And while we are on the subject of politics, why couldn't the English send all their outlaws and criminals to American and their prudes to Australia? This was a great email (which by the way I am aware that it is a combined effort of the former prime minister and an Air Force vet)
We need a Leader Like This!
Prime Minister John Howard - Australia
Muslims who want to live under Islamic Sharia law were told on Wednesday to get out of Australia , as the government targeted radicals in a bid to head off potential terror attacks.
Separately, Howard angered some Australian Muslims on Wednesday by saying he supported spy agencies monitoring the nation's mosques. Quote: 'IMMIGRANTS, NOT AUSTRALIANS, MUST ADAPT. Take It Or Leave It. I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending some individual or their culture. Since the terrorist attacks on Bali , we have experienced a surge in patriotism by the majority of Australians.'
'This culture has been developed over two centuries of struggles, trials and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom'
'We speak mainly ENGLISH, not Spanish, Lebanese, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, or any other language. Therefore, if you wish to become part of our society . Learn the language!'
'Most Australians believe in God. This is not some Christian, right wing, political push, but a fact, because Christian men and women, on Christian principles, founded this nation, and this is clearly documented. It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. If God offends you, then I suggest you consider another part of the world as your new home, because God is part of our culture.'
'We will accept your beliefs, and will not question why. All we ask is that you accept ours, and live in harmony and peaceful enjoyment with us.'
'This is OUR COUNTRY, OUR LAND, and OUR LIFESTYLE, and we will allow you every opportunity to enjoy all this. But once you are done complaining, whining, and griping about Our Flag, Our Pledge, Our Christian beliefs, or Our Way of Life, I highly encourage you take advantage of one other great Australian freedom,
'THE RIGHT TO LEAVE'.'
'If you aren't happy here then LEAVE. We didn't force you to come here. You asked to be here. So accept the country YOU accepted.'
Maybe if we circulate this amongst ourselves, American citizens will find the backbone to start speaking and voicing the same truths.
I went. I had fun. Met some fabulous new people. YaY! for being adventurous even though it was at the ends of the earth and the A train wasnt running so I had to take the 1 and there were no subways near the apartment (which I totally dont get about living downtown. You might be able to say you live in Tribeca or The Lower East Side but you also had to walk avenues to get to a subway whereas mine is 20 steps away from my apartment AND you can fit your entire apartment in my bedroom. The pretencion of this city continues to baffle me) and the wind was so tragic it literally blew down a few streets.
On the train ride back, there was a handicapped vet in a wheelchair. He proceeded to want to get through to the other end of the train, interrupting my reading and forcing me to basically put my legs in the air to pass (I wasnt assumed. I was wearing a skirt for chrissake!). I looked up and a very attractive male was smiling at me over the absurdity of the situation. I was so ready to have a lovely conversation with the stranger, exchange numbers and tell this entertaining story of how we met to our grandchildren. . . then he started meowing.
Since the R train took it's sweet ass time coming to pick me up this afternoon, I gained a lot of material for my latest blog. Rock out.
So, I haven't really been documenting my encounters in the subways- but seriously. It's the best and worst part of New York thus far. Some of the things I see daily is just so insane, I think my mind blocks them out (i.e. a homeless man's penis on Thanksgiving morning. yea. I can't make this shit up) but I am going to try and remember more often and document them on my blackberry for later.
Setting: 36th St. waiting for the damn R.
Observances made the time go by faster (while listening to my angry music getting reacquainted with my dinosaur of an ipod): * Asshat spots a Trojan (unopened sealed in package)on the ground. Asshat points out to friends. Asshat then proceeds to kick it onto the tracks. What's wrong with this picture? Well, one he is a male and should have picked it up and put it in his pocket (ok kidding. *note to self*: always use your own condoms. Who knows where he is getting them from) but alas asshat turns and I see his face. No wonder he doesn't know what to do with a perfectly good condom. Ass.hat. and secondly, two words. track fires. (you know, which is probably the reason the damn R is taking so long) These things really do happen (according to New Yorkers, I personally have never seen it but then again I am not an observant subway rider, except when the damn R train takes so long) I mean who doesn't read the same advertisements on every train that asks you to not do this (because MTA is serious about safety- your safety)? I read the signs every time I get on the train (which is probably why I don't have any friends but that's besides the point)so why can't this asshat?
*Express stops are survival of the fittest. . . elbows. I still have not mastered the stance I need to take when I am not trying to jump on the train waiting in the station (instead waiting for the damn R train)- I try pretending like I am an invisible tree but they don't get it. I have seriously had Grandmas knock me out of the way to make sure they get on the train. And just forget about chivalry or gentlemen. When it comes to getting on the train, damsels in distress be damned. But today, it was quite humorous to be observing and knowing the M train wasn't going anywhere soon. It had been sitting there for 10 f.n minutes.
*Looking into the moat of water that has accumulated on the tracks, I am reminded why New Yorkers don't get sick as often as they should. Riding the subway is the vaccine of all vaccines. They are exposed to every disease and chemical known (and unknown) to man in their daily commutes their bodies are immune to pretty much everything but cancer. It's insane.
And now I am settling down with my take out Chinese* (like a true New Yorker) to watch my new favorite show (which I am four years late on this fad- but what's new?) One Tree Hill! YaY!
*sidenote: while I waited in the Chinese restaurant they have "Trailer Park" in the gumball machine. I really wanted to spend the 50 cents to get one! Maybe if I keep this up I might collect all 12! I really want Moo-moo mama and Commando Carl.
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