Showing posts with label subway. Show all posts
Showing posts with label subway. Show all posts
Friday, May 8, 2009
Subway Boyfriend
Guess who I saw again this morning? That's right, Subway Boyfriend. And, his facial hair has once again reminded me of the month we're in: Moustache May - the most wonderful time of year. I didn't meet my goal of talking to him by the close of 2008, but maybe this is my year ... OUR year.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Quit HOGging the Supplies (Get it?)
Last night, I went to the two Rite Aids in my neighborhood to buy a little hand sanitizer as ammo to the Swine Flu everyone is freaking out about. They were completely out. The Rite Aid downstairs at my job in Rockefeller Center was out, too.
They were also sold out of face masks and a lot of their hand soap. I'm trying not to get worried about this, but the first U.S. outbreaks were at the same high school my ex-boyfriend and two of my close friends went to in Queens. I live in Queens, therefore, I probably have Swine Flu (although hard to tell when my allergies are raging right now, too).
This morning on the train into work, I saw a woman who was breathing into a pink hand towel. Last night I walked home and passed a big group of people wearing face masks. I went on a date with a guy on Monday and he offered me hand sanitizer within the first few minutes of seeing each other. Everyone else is making me feel like I should worry more. Kind of like my mom's worries when I first got my driver's license: "It's not you I'm worried about, it's the other drivers!"
They were also sold out of face masks and a lot of their hand soap. I'm trying not to get worried about this, but the first U.S. outbreaks were at the same high school my ex-boyfriend and two of my close friends went to in Queens. I live in Queens, therefore, I probably have Swine Flu (although hard to tell when my allergies are raging right now, too).
This morning on the train into work, I saw a woman who was breathing into a pink hand towel. Last night I walked home and passed a big group of people wearing face masks. I went on a date with a guy on Monday and he offered me hand sanitizer within the first few minutes of seeing each other. Everyone else is making me feel like I should worry more. Kind of like my mom's worries when I first got my driver's license: "It's not you I'm worried about, it's the other drivers!"
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
How to Make Friends on Transportation: A User's Guide
Around this time last year, I was taking the subway back home from work and saw a guy my age sitting down with a giant tin of popcorn on his lap. I searched his face, and couldn't understand why he looked so familiar. Finally, I remembered where I had met him before.
Months prior, a friend of mine and I were taking the train back out to Astoria after seeing some other friends of mine play at a club in Manhattan. Sitting across from us were an incredibly drunk guy and his seemingly sober friend who was trying to wrangle said drunk. The drunk guy kept falling over wanting to lay across the subway bench. The poor woman sitting next to him was less than pleased. My friend and I weren't hiding our amusement very well when he tried to make phone calls underground - we started cracking up.
I thought this was so funny that I not-so-stealthily started taking pictures with my cell phone camera:
We started talking to the sober friend to find out how his friend had gotten that way (bachelor party), where they were headed (the same stop as me) and was his friend going to be ok (no, they had to get off the train at Times Square because his friend was going to puke any second). As the train pulled away and we watched our new drunk friend vomit everywhere, I thought that would be the last time we'd see each other. That December night when we were reunited on the subway, we got to talking and now, we see each other about once a month for drinks (within moderation and not on a subway).
***
This summer, I was flying home to Los Angeles from New York for a friend's wedding. As I wrote about before, I had a stopover in Cincinnati. On that flight, I mentioned I met an actor - and former Blue Man Group performer - who seemed incredibly nice and upbeat. Hoping to set him up with my equally nice and upbeat roommate, I gave him my business card, never really expecting to hear from him again.
Three months later (!) I got an e-mail from him saying he found my business card in his wallet and he wanted to know how I was doing (which completely reminds me of this). We're trying to find a time to hang out, where I can continue to give him a hard time - as I did on the plane - about him only have Tool, Dr. Wayne Dyer and one Bjork song loaded on his iPod.
So, to make friends while traveling is an easy 3-step program:
Months prior, a friend of mine and I were taking the train back out to Astoria after seeing some other friends of mine play at a club in Manhattan. Sitting across from us were an incredibly drunk guy and his seemingly sober friend who was trying to wrangle said drunk. The drunk guy kept falling over wanting to lay across the subway bench. The poor woman sitting next to him was less than pleased. My friend and I weren't hiding our amusement very well when he tried to make phone calls underground - we started cracking up.
I thought this was so funny that I not-so-stealthily started taking pictures with my cell phone camera:
We started talking to the sober friend to find out how his friend had gotten that way (bachelor party), where they were headed (the same stop as me) and was his friend going to be ok (no, they had to get off the train at Times Square because his friend was going to puke any second). As the train pulled away and we watched our new drunk friend vomit everywhere, I thought that would be the last time we'd see each other. That December night when we were reunited on the subway, we got to talking and now, we see each other about once a month for drinks (within moderation and not on a subway).***
This summer, I was flying home to Los Angeles from New York for a friend's wedding. As I wrote about before, I had a stopover in Cincinnati. On that flight, I mentioned I met an actor - and former Blue Man Group performer - who seemed incredibly nice and upbeat. Hoping to set him up with my equally nice and upbeat roommate, I gave him my business card, never really expecting to hear from him again.
Three months later (!) I got an e-mail from him saying he found my business card in his wallet and he wanted to know how I was doing (which completely reminds me of this). We're trying to find a time to hang out, where I can continue to give him a hard time - as I did on the plane - about him only have Tool, Dr. Wayne Dyer and one Bjork song loaded on his iPod.
So, to make friends while traveling is an easy 3-step program:
1) Find yourself in a strange situation, be it with a drunk person underground, or tens of thousands of feet above ground sitting next to an actor with a terrible iPod
2) Utilize your ability to laugh at other people's expenses
3) Wait a few months for the universe to magically reunite you and make plans to build a friendship
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Tears of a Clown
A few months ago, I was riding the subway home with a friend of mine when we saw a clown get on the train at Queensboro Plaza – the first stop in Queens on the N or W line. We didn’t think much of it. After all, I’ve been groped on the subway, fallen in love, met a new friend, been stared at by a really creepy girl – nothing really phases me.
Now, I’ve never been a big fan of clowns, and for the same reason as any other sane human being: Pennywise.
When the clown got on the train, at about 11:30 pm, he started doing various clown things in front of my friend and me. He raised his eyebrows, played peek-a-boo – he must have still been on the clock. We started talking to him and found out his name was Goofy Gary and he was just coming back from working a child’s birthday party in Manhattan. He handed us his business card if we ever needed his services.
I asked, “Do you do balloon animals?”
He said, “No.”
“Do you do magic tricks?”
“No.”
“Do you ride a tiny tricycle?”
“No – geeze, you really know how to make a clown sad.”
I felt terrible, but what else is on a clown’s resume under special skills? And, if you visit his Web site, you’ll see he says he can do magic tricks and balloon animals – c’mon Gary. (And my favorite part of his site is under “What People Are Saying About Goofy Gary”. One fan says, “He's magic. He's goofy. Is his name really Goofy Gary?”)
Since that night, I’ve seen Gary on the train at least two more times in full make-up. I always avoid his eyes because I’m afraid he’ll remember the night some condescending clown judger was less than impressed with his repertoire.
But now, the MTA is planning on removing one of the subway lines that runs from my neighborhood to Brooklyn, so there’s an even stronger chance Gary and I will meet again. Maybe he has learned how to make balloon animals by now, or perhaps my penance will be to assist him on a singing telegram job.
Now, I’ve never been a big fan of clowns, and for the same reason as any other sane human being: Pennywise.
When the clown got on the train, at about 11:30 pm, he started doing various clown things in front of my friend and me. He raised his eyebrows, played peek-a-boo – he must have still been on the clock. We started talking to him and found out his name was Goofy Gary and he was just coming back from working a child’s birthday party in Manhattan. He handed us his business card if we ever needed his services.
I asked, “Do you do balloon animals?”
He said, “No.”
“Do you do magic tricks?”
“No.”
“Do you ride a tiny tricycle?”
“No – geeze, you really know how to make a clown sad.”
I felt terrible, but what else is on a clown’s resume under special skills? And, if you visit his Web site, you’ll see he says he can do magic tricks and balloon animals – c’mon Gary. (And my favorite part of his site is under “What People Are Saying About Goofy Gary”. One fan says, “He's magic. He's goofy. Is his name really Goofy Gary?”)
Since that night, I’ve seen Gary on the train at least two more times in full make-up. I always avoid his eyes because I’m afraid he’ll remember the night some condescending clown judger was less than impressed with his repertoire.
But now, the MTA is planning on removing one of the subway lines that runs from my neighborhood to Brooklyn, so there’s an even stronger chance Gary and I will meet again. Maybe he has learned how to make balloon animals by now, or perhaps my penance will be to assist him on a singing telegram job.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Missed Connections
I missed my subway to work four times this morning.
After sleeping a measly three hours, I woke up at 6:30 am to escort my beautiful sister - who is visiting the East Coast for a week - to a bus in Chinatown headed to my brother's apartment in Philadelphia.
When I dropped her off, I headed north to Canal Street on my way to work. My first mistake was going underground on the wrong side of the street. It wasn't a big deal, but I had to go down stairs and then upstairs to run and try to take the N train that just arrived in the station uptown - miss number 1.
Another N train came a few minutes later and it was express. I didn't think about this clearly enough, and the train zoomed right by my work's stop at 49th street - miss number 2.
The train made it to the 57th street stop; I went up another flight of stairs, and down another to head back downtown. I hopped on a W train and was so busy looking for a very specific My Morning Jacket song to make me feel better that I didn't realize the subway was at my stop until the doors were closing again - miss number 3.
I got off the train at Times Square to head back uptown. I went up the stairs to cross over to the other side of the platform. I heard a train I needed pulling into the station, but am so afraid of falling down stairs, that I gave up the chase and decided to wait - miss number 4.
This is just the beginning of what is sure to be a very Charlie Brown Halloween.
After sleeping a measly three hours, I woke up at 6:30 am to escort my beautiful sister - who is visiting the East Coast for a week - to a bus in Chinatown headed to my brother's apartment in Philadelphia.
When I dropped her off, I headed north to Canal Street on my way to work. My first mistake was going underground on the wrong side of the street. It wasn't a big deal, but I had to go down stairs and then upstairs to run and try to take the N train that just arrived in the station uptown - miss number 1.
Another N train came a few minutes later and it was express. I didn't think about this clearly enough, and the train zoomed right by my work's stop at 49th street - miss number 2.
The train made it to the 57th street stop; I went up another flight of stairs, and down another to head back downtown. I hopped on a W train and was so busy looking for a very specific My Morning Jacket song to make me feel better that I didn't realize the subway was at my stop until the doors were closing again - miss number 3.
I got off the train at Times Square to head back uptown. I went up the stairs to cross over to the other side of the platform. I heard a train I needed pulling into the station, but am so afraid of falling down stairs, that I gave up the chase and decided to wait - miss number 4.
This is just the beginning of what is sure to be a very Charlie Brown Halloween.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Crush Out of Context
Ever since I moved into my new neighborhood in May, I've seen this guy I've developed a major crush on. Sometimes we ride the train together (the best mornings!), I pretend to read, but I'm so busy staring at him. We get on the train at the same stop and exit at the same stop, we're clearly made for each other.
He's got a sense of humor (he participated in Moustache May, which was step 1 in making me fall in love with him), he's smart (he usually reads The New Yorker), he loves music (he's never without his iPod), he is a snazzy dresser (he was wearing a suit with a VEST underneath it once) and he's handsome (in an off-beat way). Actually, he's a hotter version of Dave Foley.
I know this sounds very Fatal Attraction, but I also know I'm not alone in falling in love on the subway.
I should probably just say something to him, but I'm afraid he's going to open his mouth and ruin the crush. Or, what if he has a secret "subway girlfriend" crush on ME and I ruin his crush by saying something stupid. I told a friend of mine that it was my goal that by the close of 2008, I'd at least smile at him.
Well, last night could have been my big chance. I saw subway boyfriend at the grocery store at the end of my street. It was so out of context that I panicked: it wasn't morning, I looked terrible, we weren't on the subway platform, I wasn't wearing my iPod. He looked right at me and smiled, and what do I do? Run down the cereal aisle.
I picked up what I needed and saw him in line for the check-out. I should have stood behind him in the queue. Instead, I went to another check-out and quickly paid so I could see which direction he lived. I was too late. Gone ...
... until of course, I see him again this morning, with his New Yorker, in a suit (on casual Friday!), listening to his iPod. I ask again: Why am I single??
He's got a sense of humor (he participated in Moustache May, which was step 1 in making me fall in love with him), he's smart (he usually reads The New Yorker), he loves music (he's never without his iPod), he is a snazzy dresser (he was wearing a suit with a VEST underneath it once) and he's handsome (in an off-beat way). Actually, he's a hotter version of Dave Foley.
I know this sounds very Fatal Attraction, but I also know I'm not alone in falling in love on the subway.
I should probably just say something to him, but I'm afraid he's going to open his mouth and ruin the crush. Or, what if he has a secret "subway girlfriend" crush on ME and I ruin his crush by saying something stupid. I told a friend of mine that it was my goal that by the close of 2008, I'd at least smile at him.
Well, last night could have been my big chance. I saw subway boyfriend at the grocery store at the end of my street. It was so out of context that I panicked: it wasn't morning, I looked terrible, we weren't on the subway platform, I wasn't wearing my iPod. He looked right at me and smiled, and what do I do? Run down the cereal aisle.
I picked up what I needed and saw him in line for the check-out. I should have stood behind him in the queue. Instead, I went to another check-out and quickly paid so I could see which direction he lived. I was too late. Gone ...
... until of course, I see him again this morning, with his New Yorker, in a suit (on casual Friday!), listening to his iPod. I ask again: Why am I single??
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Grope Gripe
On the commute home last night I got really excited when I saw a seat available on the subway. I took out my iPod and book and started reading.
The guy sitting next to me had a backpack on his lap and looked like he had a rough day and probably needed the love a good woman. Unfortunately, he decided to choose my left thigh as a good place to start.
When I sat down his hands were underneath his backpack; when I sat down he placed them at his sides - this isn't proper train etiquette.
I continued with my book (read: using my peripheral vision to keep an eye on his hand) and within seconds, the guy had his palm resting on my thigh. Mistakes happen, so I gave him the "what the fuck" eyes - the same eyes you give to someone talking in a movie theater. He didn't flinch, just looked back.
Had this worked for him before?
I got up immediately - sad to relinquish reading time - and scowled the rest of the way home. It might be time for New York to adapt like the Japanese.
The guy sitting next to me had a backpack on his lap and looked like he had a rough day and probably needed the love a good woman. Unfortunately, he decided to choose my left thigh as a good place to start.
When I sat down his hands were underneath his backpack; when I sat down he placed them at his sides - this isn't proper train etiquette.
I continued with my book (read: using my peripheral vision to keep an eye on his hand) and within seconds, the guy had his palm resting on my thigh. Mistakes happen, so I gave him the "what the fuck" eyes - the same eyes you give to someone talking in a movie theater. He didn't flinch, just looked back.
Had this worked for him before?
I got up immediately - sad to relinquish reading time - and scowled the rest of the way home. It might be time for New York to adapt like the Japanese.
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