I dug through my myspace blog archive to share some of my favorite (!??) stories:
I almost died today.
I was on the 6 train going uptown to an appointment at 11 this morning.
So at 14th Street, the 4/5 train is there, so people inevitably get off to transfer over across the platform. (In case you aren't familiar with the NYC Subway system, the 4/5 run express from 14th to 42nd Street, meaning they don't stop at all the other stops.)
It is pouring down rain outside, and there are puddles everywhere. As I'm walking across the platform, I slide in a puddle of water. I fall onto the ground and my right leg goes into the gap between the subway and the platform. So now I am on the ground and my leg is stuck between the subway and the platform. My left leg is on the platform, but bent at this weird angle.
Images of Boxing Helena flashed before my eyes. Would I function without my right leg? Would I ever get a date again? Would I be confined to a wheelchair? How would I get up the steps of my apartment? And will I ever be able to wear my pretty dresses again? I like my legs. They're my favorite body part. I am starting to lose my breathe.
As I'm beginning to panic, the doors of the train begin to shut.
Crap, crap, crap.
This is not good. Not good at all. This means the train is going to leave the station and take my leg along with it.
There were people on the train, but with the doors shut, there is nothing they can do to pull me out. I think the only other people on the platform are too far away to see what's going on and/or to know that I need help. (All this time, I am trying not to cry, or yelp, or panic.)
I am going to be on the cover of AMNY as the girl who falls into the subway tracks.
My worst fear has become realized.
Stand clear of the closing doors!! exclaims the jolly recorded message.
Bastards! Where am I going to go???
Somehow a surge of adrenaline came over me, because I pulled my stuck leg out of the gap.
And now it hurts like no tomorrow. I am bruised and bloody I'll be ashamed if anyone sees my leg. But then again, I guess I can't take the very thought of *having* a leg for granted. Bruised and bloody is better than no leg at all.
Somebody today asked me how I'm feeling.
The obnoxious neighbors have moved from their apartment upstairs
So the dust falls down on me from the vent
The real estate market is a scam in New York City,
She lives below me and likes to complain
She said something in Spanish and pounded on my door,
"La agua, mucho problemo!" she exlaimed
I said back to her "Go to the Super, I am no plumber!"
So my misery comes from above and below
Tonight in my bed I'd like to watch the Tribe win the pennant
So if you need to find this Unhappy Brunette
September 25, 2007 - Tuesday
Never fails. Every summer there is either a black-out, a subway crisis, or a flood. And it always happens on the hottest day in the city.
Today it took me 3 and a half hours to get to work. But all these crazy things happened on the way....
1) They kick us off the A train at 168th street. I get onto the 1 train an lo and behold I see this guy I know, Cesar!
2) Cesar and I take the 1 until 137th Street and we get kicked off THAT train.
3) We find a cab and share it with like five other people. Cesar even loaned me cab fare since I had no cash....awwww...
4) The cab is going to the east side, which is out of the way for me. So I get out at 52nd Street.
5) I find my friend Holly who happens to be in that vicinity too. Holly and I walk from 52nd Street to Tribeca. (This is about four miles I believe).
6) We stop for breakfast on the way.
7) For some reason I wore my comfortable shoes today. I usually wear my heels, but today I had packed them in my bag to change into (I had no idea the trains were this messed up).
8) I get to work around 10:30 AM and I realize some people didn't come until 2:00 PM because of this disaster. Turns out every single subway in the city was messed up. Man! I could have milked this for a lot longer!!! Too bad I'm an honest employee......
July 27, 2007 - Friday
This morning I woke up in the gorgeous Bay Ridge neighborhood in Brooklyn. Maura and I had dinner and drank wine and laughed and shared funny stories last night. A little background on Maura-- we had at one point dated the same person (who shall remain nameless to protect his privacy, although I'm sure everyone pretty much knows and I'm pretty sure he doesn't care if I share the story anyhow. It's okay, right Ralph?) ...... So at any rate....one of the stories Maura and I shared went a lil' something like this:
Maura: Several years ago I dated this guy who was a cop and he lived in Brooklyn with his parents.
Crazy, right? I guess it makes sense. We both have blue eyes, long hair (although Maura's is blonder than mine), counseling backgrounds, and similar sense of humor. And honestly, match.com is a small world. Mary and I signed up for it once at the same time and we got a lot of the same people. Now I want to get in touch with Chris A. He was sweet, but there wasn't the chemistry necessary to maintain a relationship. I do think he had an easy-going personality though, and would get a kick out of this. Maura heard from Brad T. within the last six months, so I think we should let him know too. I thought he was kinda pompous and perverted, but I still think it would be funny to let him know about this synchronicty.
So this morning I treked it from the bottom of Brooklyn to the top of Manhattan (took an hour and a half on three different subway lines). This morning I renewed my lease (just one more lousy year in that place) and discovered that my rent is only going up $27, not $36, which isn't tooooo bad (although rent increases still suck). I was walking through Inwood to the Management Company and I realized "Inwood really isn't so bad." It's actually quite pretty when there aren't a bunch of icky men making vulgar comments to me in Spanish. There are trees and parks and sunshine and birds. It's just *my* street that is bad. The rest of the neighborhood is great. (Although parking really sucks there). But it only takes me 40 minutes to get to work by subway.
So I decided to wave, wink, and smile back to anyone who waved, whistled or "Hi Mami"ed me today. Construction workers, garbage men, hoodlams, homeless people, truck drivers, etc. It was fun. I don't think they know how to respond when a woman actually responds back. But they did smile back at me , albeit with a kind of blank/amazed expression on their faces. So from now on I think I'm going to be flattered instead of being irritated when slimebags whistle. I mean, it must mean that I'm not *that* grossly obese or ugly. So I am now turning it into something that makes me feel good.
And I also feel immensely amused that Maura and I dated three of the same men in a city of 8.5 million of them.