- overheard from a typical New York yuppie, at Brooklyn Army Terminal dock
8.30 AM
Called for car service. To my mild surprise, the car already contained 2 other passengers. Ah, they're maximizing their occupancy in the name of "public service" due to demand. Not to mention, they charge each person a separate fare, of course. You take a ride, you pay.
8.32 AM
Driver says we're going to be dropped off at their homebase so another car can take us to our destination (because the other two passengers were really going to Manhattan, and I wasn't going to pay $25 to get into the city; I just wanted to get to the Brooklyn Army Terminal docks at 58th St.).
8.45 AM
We're finally on our way, after the new car takes 2 more passengers as the call comes in from the dispatcher. I get dropped off at 58th St., 9 bucks poorer.
9.10 AM
oooo. where am i?
Walked a couple or three blocks down to the pier, through some of the grimier sections of Brooklyn. Boy, am I glad I made that choice to live up in 93rd St. As soon as I got there, wind picked up and there was a long queue of people waiting to get on one boat.
at least people stand in line and wait for their turn
9.25 AM
Finally got on the boat. I was the in the final 7. I made the cut, which is what I can't really say for Michelle Wie (ok, can't resist saying that; you have to put these comedian-wannabe moments into writing quickly or else. ask Jerry Seinfeld).
9.45 AM
Set foot on Pier 11, near Wall St. Hallelujah!
9.55 AM
My (2) officemates give up a round of cheers as I walk in, muttering expletives. *lol*
What's the first thing we do? Hold a caucus on current events, of course. And it just boils down to being in the middle of the two devils (whoever is greedier is open to debate). The MTA, announcing free extra days on the monthly Metrocards (but: you have to pay cash so they recoup their losses asap) and announce a 1 billion dollar surplus, versus the Transport Workers Union, who have seemingly been tipsy with power, and arrogantly declare a strike that will affect more people who are earning less than the union worker's average salary. And there's also a question to the city fathers for not mobilizing private buses to help out the flow of commuters who now have (or chose) to walk in the cold, gamely putting on a brave face, about how they need the exercise, or they're supporting the union, or its a 'New York moment' and they will rise up to the challenge. It's still freezing out there. No one deserves to be out there walking for miles.
I'm also including this blog in my (short) list of links.
2.55 PM
Breaking news comes in. Union votes to stop the strike. But it'll take another 12 hours to get the system running again. Am not waiting here in the office for 12 hours. I guess it's still gonna be a long walk home.
3.30 PM
Am outta here.
3.41 PM
At Pier 11, made the cut again. Sorry, Michelle Wie.
4.10 PM
Reached the B.A.T. These 'shuz' are made for walking. That's just what I'll do.
4.19 PM
Am on the 60s streets and up. Caught up on my ESPN podcasts (Kobe scored 62 points? And he actually declined to go break the record? Man, I'm spending too much time on the NFL).
Okay, this isn't Edsa, but you don't wanna loiter around here
4.30 PM
ahh, familiar territory!
Taking the breadth and length of 3rd Ave., which I knew was the United Nations of foodies (Spanish, Mexican, Scandanavian, Polish, Russian - joining the usual gaggle of Italian restaurants and pizzerias, Irish pubs and Chinese takeouts), but I never saw this section up close (only my side on the upper 80s). Maybe the only great thing to come out of this 'forced' walking trip.
the bagel boy from company B (Brooklyn)
4.50 PM
I see the lights on the Verrazano. I'm home (feet. hurt.).
a case of camera shakes. must be woozy (yeah, wimp).
And all's well that ends well. Who blinked first? Your guess is good as mine.
Happy holidays, New York! (yeah, you too, striking workers)
The End?
"You think that's great? Let me tell you about the time I destroyed Christmas ..."
- New York Post cartoon depicting Union leader Roger Toussaint, saying something to that effect, in a bar, having drinks with the Grinch
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