Today marks one complete year of me living in New York City. I still love it.
I will not be celebrating this milestone here in the City, however, because in four hours I am supposed to be out of bed for a ski trip to Hunter Mountain. Just a day trip. It's been years since I donned a pair of skis. We'll see how it goes. My knees feel older than they did in 2002. Or was it 2003? My mind is slipping, as well.
I can't wait to see what Year #2 has in store for me.
For now, I suppose I should go to bed.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Taking Candy from a Stranger
While waiting for the D-train to Harlem from the Atlantic-Pacific Terminal in Brooklyn a few nights ago, a woman on the platform told me that it makes her think about going out at night when she has to wait on the D-train. This started a discussion about the reliability and frequency of specific trains and how that affects our decisions and plans.
She seemed like a nice lady and as the D came into the station she told me to enjoy my evening. And then as we were walking into the same door of the train she handed me a bag of Mango Balls candy and told me if I ever go to a 99-cent store I need to get these because they are really good. She insisted I take them and showed me that she had another bag in her purse. She also told me where I could find a 99-cent store in downtown Brooklyn and that Mango Balls are available at CostCo and BJ's, as well.
I have to be honest. They weren't the best candies I've ever tried, but getting them as a gift from a nice lady made them some of the best candies I've ever received as a gift. It just reinforces the sense of camaraderie I love about New York City and is another example of the acts of kindness and love I see around me as I traverse the streets and tunnels.
P.S.- I gave her a bag of gummie cola bottles (one of my favorites) as I was getting off the train. Share the love, right?
She seemed like a nice lady and as the D came into the station she told me to enjoy my evening. And then as we were walking into the same door of the train she handed me a bag of Mango Balls candy and told me if I ever go to a 99-cent store I need to get these because they are really good. She insisted I take them and showed me that she had another bag in her purse. She also told me where I could find a 99-cent store in downtown Brooklyn and that Mango Balls are available at CostCo and BJ's, as well.
I have to be honest. They weren't the best candies I've ever tried, but getting them as a gift from a nice lady made them some of the best candies I've ever received as a gift. It just reinforces the sense of camaraderie I love about New York City and is another example of the acts of kindness and love I see around me as I traverse the streets and tunnels.
P.S.- I gave her a bag of gummie cola bottles (one of my favorites) as I was getting off the train. Share the love, right?
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
I Love My Chucks
These are the Converse All-Stars that I love.
They are my default shoes now.
These are the socks I love to wear with my Converse All-Stars.
I am afraid that in the coming months they aren't going to be pounding as much pavement as they normally do. My feet have been getting chilly out there in recent days. Perhaps I'll try thicker socks before I decide to relegate my shoes to warm days. I'm not sure I can stand the thought of putting them away.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
A Simple Joy (courtesy of YouTube)
This afternoon I saw a young woman watching YouTube on her laptop in the Starbucks cafe. The first time I noticed her she was smiling. The second time I noticed her she was laughing. I couldn't hear her from across the room, but her head was moving and her mouth was open in a wide grin. I think she was trying not to draw attention to herself, but she also didn't seem able to keep herself from at least silent laughter. And that made me smile. Even now, a few hours later on the train, I am smiling as I think about it. I can't help myself. I love simple joys like that.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Limbo
I knew it was too good to be true. I was on my way to work at Starbucks for a morning shift and I only had to wait for the L-train for five minutes. At 4:50 in the morning, that's not a bad wait time.
Oh wait, what the electronic announcement at Lorimer Station meant to say was, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the next Manhattan-bound L-train will depart in approximately five minutes. The wait-time you didn't spend on the Lorimer platform will be made up for in the tunnel between Bedford Avenue and First Avenue."
But since I didn't hear that announcement, I got my hopes up that I would actually be early to work, rather than sitting on a stationary train somewhere between Brooklyn and Manhattan for at least sixteen minutes. Some poor guy has actually started snoring on the bench across from me. I wish I was tired enough for a nap this morning.
I always complain if they don't give us any information. After hearing the worker in the compartment near me telling someone over the radio that he can't hear her, listening to an electronic buzzer going off in the tunnel, and watching an MTA worker walk along the train passage next to our car, they made the announcement that there were workers on the track in front of us. I am grateful for that. Though I think I could have done just fine without the repetitive automated announcement, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we're being held momentarily by the train's dispatcher. Please be patient." You never know though. The MTA probably spent way too much money on a psychological study to determine that even repetitive, generic announcements will help people be more patient when they are in a hurry and stuck in the limbo of a dark subway tunnel somewhere beneath the City or the East River.
Though I often take notes while I'm out and about, this is the first time I have posted on my blog via my mobile device. Here it is, folks. Raw reporting from the streets, bridges and tunnels of the City. I love my BlackBerry.
And our train has finally made it to 8th Avenue and I am late. (Yes, please. I will have "whine" with my cheese.)
Oh wait, what the electronic announcement at Lorimer Station meant to say was, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the next Manhattan-bound L-train will depart in approximately five minutes. The wait-time you didn't spend on the Lorimer platform will be made up for in the tunnel between Bedford Avenue and First Avenue."
But since I didn't hear that announcement, I got my hopes up that I would actually be early to work, rather than sitting on a stationary train somewhere between Brooklyn and Manhattan for at least sixteen minutes. Some poor guy has actually started snoring on the bench across from me. I wish I was tired enough for a nap this morning.
I always complain if they don't give us any information. After hearing the worker in the compartment near me telling someone over the radio that he can't hear her, listening to an electronic buzzer going off in the tunnel, and watching an MTA worker walk along the train passage next to our car, they made the announcement that there were workers on the track in front of us. I am grateful for that. Though I think I could have done just fine without the repetitive automated announcement, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we're being held momentarily by the train's dispatcher. Please be patient." You never know though. The MTA probably spent way too much money on a psychological study to determine that even repetitive, generic announcements will help people be more patient when they are in a hurry and stuck in the limbo of a dark subway tunnel somewhere beneath the City or the East River.
Though I often take notes while I'm out and about, this is the first time I have posted on my blog via my mobile device. Here it is, folks. Raw reporting from the streets, bridges and tunnels of the City. I love my BlackBerry.
And our train has finally made it to 8th Avenue and I am late. (Yes, please. I will have "whine" with my cheese.)
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Shove
An interesting thing about all the human contact one has in a normal New York day is how many misunderstandings occur which will never be resolved or understood. Take the case of the blind woman on the train a few weeks ago.
The last car on the Brooklyn-bound L train was packed (if you are exiting at Lorimer Avenue to catch the G-train, this is the car to be in). Many of the occupants were high-schoolers enjoying a commute home together, discussing when one of their own would be able to transfer back to their school. It was noisy, but not outrageously so. I did happen to notice a woman in the middle of the car who was looking a little anxiously through the many people towards the door, but I didn't give it much thought. She was in the middle of the car, surrounded by a lot of noise and crowdedness.
When subway car is crammed full of people, and a lot of those people want to exit at the same station, you run the risk of being squashed from both sides if you happen to be staying on the train. Our train pulled into the 1st Avenue Station (the last stop in Manhattan) and there were more exiters on our car than I expected. Unfortunately, I was right by the door on the side of escape. After a few people pushed their way through and past the crowd, the previously mentioned slightly anxious woman had not been able to get through and finally said something. "Excuse me! I need to get out!" she said, her anxiety rising a bit. Riders began to move out of her way some, and as she pushed her way through the mash of people towards me, I saw her white cane. She was blind. Seeing her disability and trouble getting out, I spread my arms out a little and pushed back the other direction, trying to help clear the way. As soon as she was clear, a different woman from behind shoved me and quite rudely said, "Excuse me," as she moved to the door and was followed by another person. I got pretty angry at that and replied with a snide and disgusted "Miss" in her direction.
To follow that up, a young man holding onto the pole next to me, in an obvious referral to the first woman, said, "I think she was blind."
"The other lady was," I said to him. And then I half-heartedly tried to explain that was why I was in the second lady's way, but I stopped when it was obvious he wasn't looking for a conversation. He seemed like a very considerate person (who apparently thought I was being an ass).
So to unpack that situation a little:
1) In the first place, I should not have been wearing my backpack on my back. It is better to take it off and hold it in front of you or put it between your feet on the ground to save space. I'm sure the second woman would have appreciated that.
2) I wonder if the blind woman thought everyone was being careless. She may have understood that people were just oblivious to the need she had until she said something. I think all New Yorkers have experienced being stuck in a crowd, and also unintentionally being in the crowd that detains someone.
3) I was trying to help out a person in need. The second woman obviously didn't realize that and needed to get past me to get out so she wouldn't end up in Brooklyn. And sometimes pushing is the only means of escape. Perhaps she really isn't a pleasant person, or maybe she was just trying to be bold with her comment, and it came out of her mouth rudely. Perhaps she was just having a bad day. I know I have experienced all of those things myself.
4) The considerate man must not have noticed my attempt to help clear the way for the blind woman, or the ensuing shove I got from behind, so he naturally assumed I was speaking rudely to the person in need. It was perhaps the best thing he could have done, from his perspective, to let me know why should have been kind.
4) I should not have been rude no matter what happened. Perhaps I was being too sensitive.
This whole "incident" probably lasted no more than 20 to 30 seconds at the most, and look at all of the ways in which confusion and ignorance ensued. You can't stop to clear up every misunderstanding (just as in traffic you can't stop a car you cut off to explain to the driver why you did it). At the same time, there are times when you should stop and be kind and considerate and, if applicable, apologetic.
It was an intriguing and thought-provoking ride home. And a good reminder to "be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry."
The last car on the Brooklyn-bound L train was packed (if you are exiting at Lorimer Avenue to catch the G-train, this is the car to be in). Many of the occupants were high-schoolers enjoying a commute home together, discussing when one of their own would be able to transfer back to their school. It was noisy, but not outrageously so. I did happen to notice a woman in the middle of the car who was looking a little anxiously through the many people towards the door, but I didn't give it much thought. She was in the middle of the car, surrounded by a lot of noise and crowdedness.
When subway car is crammed full of people, and a lot of those people want to exit at the same station, you run the risk of being squashed from both sides if you happen to be staying on the train. Our train pulled into the 1st Avenue Station (the last stop in Manhattan) and there were more exiters on our car than I expected. Unfortunately, I was right by the door on the side of escape. After a few people pushed their way through and past the crowd, the previously mentioned slightly anxious woman had not been able to get through and finally said something. "Excuse me! I need to get out!" she said, her anxiety rising a bit. Riders began to move out of her way some, and as she pushed her way through the mash of people towards me, I saw her white cane. She was blind. Seeing her disability and trouble getting out, I spread my arms out a little and pushed back the other direction, trying to help clear the way. As soon as she was clear, a different woman from behind shoved me and quite rudely said, "Excuse me," as she moved to the door and was followed by another person. I got pretty angry at that and replied with a snide and disgusted "Miss" in her direction.
To follow that up, a young man holding onto the pole next to me, in an obvious referral to the first woman, said, "I think she was blind."
"The other lady was," I said to him. And then I half-heartedly tried to explain that was why I was in the second lady's way, but I stopped when it was obvious he wasn't looking for a conversation. He seemed like a very considerate person (who apparently thought I was being an ass).
So to unpack that situation a little:
1) In the first place, I should not have been wearing my backpack on my back. It is better to take it off and hold it in front of you or put it between your feet on the ground to save space. I'm sure the second woman would have appreciated that.
2) I wonder if the blind woman thought everyone was being careless. She may have understood that people were just oblivious to the need she had until she said something. I think all New Yorkers have experienced being stuck in a crowd, and also unintentionally being in the crowd that detains someone.
3) I was trying to help out a person in need. The second woman obviously didn't realize that and needed to get past me to get out so she wouldn't end up in Brooklyn. And sometimes pushing is the only means of escape. Perhaps she really isn't a pleasant person, or maybe she was just trying to be bold with her comment, and it came out of her mouth rudely. Perhaps she was just having a bad day. I know I have experienced all of those things myself.
4) The considerate man must not have noticed my attempt to help clear the way for the blind woman, or the ensuing shove I got from behind, so he naturally assumed I was speaking rudely to the person in need. It was perhaps the best thing he could have done, from his perspective, to let me know why should have been kind.
4) I should not have been rude no matter what happened. Perhaps I was being too sensitive.
This whole "incident" probably lasted no more than 20 to 30 seconds at the most, and look at all of the ways in which confusion and ignorance ensued. You can't stop to clear up every misunderstanding (just as in traffic you can't stop a car you cut off to explain to the driver why you did it). At the same time, there are times when you should stop and be kind and considerate and, if applicable, apologetic.
It was an intriguing and thought-provoking ride home. And a good reminder to "be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry."
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