Whatever can go wrong...
Today, the shit hit the fan. The Metropolitan Transport Authority went on strike - which basically means that every New Yorker who catches some form of public transport to get to work is up shit creek. It's all over the news - like September 11 - and we stay glued to our televisions watching the same footage repeated over and over again in different news reports that regurgitate the same story. Brooklyn Bridge is teeming with a sea of people, with plumes of warmed air spewing from their mouths. Some will walk 2 hours one way. And once they've finished work, it will be 2 hours the opposite direction in the dark.
It is biting cold outside - sub zero weather.
I'm all for the little people receiving improved health benefits, a larger pay packet and so on, but I can imagine the patience and empathy of NY citizens waning very quickly. You can already see it on the news - the weary and disgruntled expressions on the faces of commuters who just want to get home without having to fork out $40 for a cab ride, or brave the chill.
Pam takes the day off from work. She has designated it 'snow day' (although there is no snow, but there might as well be a blizzard). Snow days are a waste if you don't do something social, so we put on our walking shoes and hotfoot it over the Williamsburg Bridge late morning to downtown. We have a 'cookie delivery' to do (the girl bakes a mean batch of biscuits, and I think she may be a blood relative of Martha Stewart) as well as a visit to Chinatown to stock up on food stuff that she will:
a) having difficulties pronouncing
b) wondering 'what the hell is this?'
c) all of the above.
It is a surreal sight to see the city's transport system at a halt. The arteries of New York City have stopped pumping, and there is an eerie movement to it. "Closed" signs hang over barricaded subway entrances. There is an odd and lethargic migration of human bodies across the city grid. I am reminded of a scene from 28 Days Later.
It will be interesting ( to say the least) trying to get from Brooklyn to midtown Manhattan tomorrow. I sure as hell ain't lugging my gear that 10 miles (16km) on foot. Taxis are unable to be reserved and those that are entering the island are only going to lower Manhattan. People are resorting to hitching rides with complete strangers to get from A to B. BUT if you haven't received another post from me within the next week...
I am hoping for an MTA Miracle - that tomorrow, the Union will have come to some sort of mutual agreement or satisfactory negotiation, and public transport will be up and running again. Denial is a powerful thing.
In the evening, Pam and I transform the apartment into a Christmas Lights Wonderland - otherwise known by its scientific name as 'Fire Hazard Hotzone'. Taking to the walls with nails, hammers and an insane amount of fairy lights - all in the name of the festive season - we are the Landlord's Nightmare Before Christmas.
It is biting cold outside - sub zero weather.
I'm all for the little people receiving improved health benefits, a larger pay packet and so on, but I can imagine the patience and empathy of NY citizens waning very quickly. You can already see it on the news - the weary and disgruntled expressions on the faces of commuters who just want to get home without having to fork out $40 for a cab ride, or brave the chill.Pam takes the day off from work. She has designated it 'snow day' (although there is no snow, but there might as well be a blizzard). Snow days are a waste if you don't do something social, so we put on our walking shoes and hotfoot it over the Williamsburg Bridge late morning to downtown. We have a 'cookie delivery' to do (the girl bakes a mean batch of biscuits, and I think she may be a blood relative of Martha Stewart) as well as a visit to Chinatown to stock up on food stuff that she will:
a) having difficulties pronouncing
b) wondering 'what the hell is this?'
c) all of the above.
It is a surreal sight to see the city's transport system at a halt. The arteries of New York City have stopped pumping, and there is an eerie movement to it. "Closed" signs hang over barricaded subway entrances. There is an odd and lethargic migration of human bodies across the city grid. I am reminded of a scene from 28 Days Later.
It will be interesting ( to say the least) trying to get from Brooklyn to midtown Manhattan tomorrow. I sure as hell ain't lugging my gear that 10 miles (16km) on foot. Taxis are unable to be reserved and those that are entering the island are only going to lower Manhattan. People are resorting to hitching rides with complete strangers to get from A to B. BUT if you haven't received another post from me within the next week...
I am hoping for an MTA Miracle - that tomorrow, the Union will have come to some sort of mutual agreement or satisfactory negotiation, and public transport will be up and running again. Denial is a powerful thing.
In the evening, Pam and I transform the apartment into a Christmas Lights Wonderland - otherwise known by its scientific name as 'Fire Hazard Hotzone'. Taking to the walls with nails, hammers and an insane amount of fairy lights - all in the name of the festive season - we are the Landlord's Nightmare Before Christmas.
posted by Christina at 3:35 PM
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