Before I launch into my stories from the underground we call the subway, I invite you to look through this hilarious guide on tourists in NYC. Believe you me tourists, we New Yorkers can spot y'all from miles away...and that's not a bad thing, we love to help. In any case, the gallery from Time:
Slide 7 is a point of particular contention for New Yorkers. We have way too many subway lines to refer to them solely by color. I am sympathetic to the tourist who is overwhelmed by the vast numbers and letters and needs to something with which to sort them out...but please realize that at the end of the day you have to use either a letter or a number to get to your destination. And while travelling to your destination, it is important to be alert...but paranoia won't help. Its slightly amusing to observe the shifty eyed tourists who are constantly pretending to read signs or averting their gaze between stops, and then leap into panic mode every time we get to one, fearful that they'll miss there designated departure point. Riding the subway needn't be an exercise in Defcon 1 Red Alert type readiness, relax and soak up the atmosphere around you instead...its some of the richer that you'll experience anywhere.
Which brings me to my stories. I've told the one about my friend Davide before but its worth telling again. Last summer I was going who knows where and this Italian comes to the door of the train asking "uptown?" I said yes and he jumped on. He knows english but isn't fluent so it took a little hand gesturing and pointing to get our points across to each other and I assume he made it to his destination. The funny part is I began my tenure as a student at F&M a couple days later and my family thought it would be good to spend the night prior to move-in in Lancaster so we stayed at the Lancaster Arts Hotel. Breakfast on the morning of move-in and as I move about to grab my toast before it burns the same Italian tourist who I had helped a few days before walked in. How is it possible for two strangers to meet twice in places 160 miles apart. I found out he works for Pfizzer and that his name is Davide and we are now facebook friends and say hello from time to time. I have a standing offer to visit Italy...but money is forever funny :)
Another story involves a newly moved couple from Seattle who had settled on Central Park West sometime last year. I was with my mom heading into the city to catch the Staten Island Ferry and go exploring when I overheard the unmistakable sounds of confusion from the couple. Its hard to explain but its that halting speech pattern usually sprinkled with a few "this is it" or "this has to be it" and I knew they needed a little guidance. After squaring away their subway question the conversation turned to their idea to move from the city into Brooklyn. They had been looking at places in Brooklyn Heights and had eaten at the semi-eponymous Heights Cafe to sample the local fare. Of course Mom and I launched into ambassadorial mode (we should really be paid) and espoused on the other eateries in the neighborhood, in our neighborhood, the greenery in Prospect Park, etc. But since they were focused on Brooklyn Heights I mentioned the Brooklyn Promenade and was horrified to discover that they didn't know about it. So as we exited at Chambers St to transfer to the 1 to South Ferry, we encouraged them to take a stroll down there, especially at or near sunset.
The funniest story of recent memory involved a group of young male acrobats on an A train I was on last week. They got on at Port Authority (Times Square for most people) with me and instantly started bickering. The guy with the stereo begged his friend to pick the track, that friend refused. In the meantime we had arrived at Penn Station (34th St/Madison Square Garden) and the dude with the stereo turned his attention to asking the boarding passengers to leave the middle of the train clear. Surprisingly everyone complied. Feeling accomplished stereo kid turned his attention back to asking his colleagues to pick the track for them to do their tricks to. If you have ridden the A train downtown out of Penn Station you know there is that slight hitch to the left just before the train gets into 23rd Street, well stereo kid apparently forgot because the jolt made him drop the cds. By the time all of them had been recovered we had gotten to 14th Street where the boarding passengers did not heed stereo kid's pleas to leave the middle clear with one disgruntled white gentleman snapping "I'm getting off next stop!" Turns out the group of acrobats were departing at West 4th as well. The show the group put on may not have been much in the way of acrobatic prowess...but they certainly have a future in comedy.
I wrote this from my customary futon perch at home, chuckling at the memory of the not so acrobatic comics.
Slide 7 is a point of particular contention for New Yorkers. We have way too many subway lines to refer to them solely by color. I am sympathetic to the tourist who is overwhelmed by the vast numbers and letters and needs to something with which to sort them out...but please realize that at the end of the day you have to use either a letter or a number to get to your destination. And while travelling to your destination, it is important to be alert...but paranoia won't help. Its slightly amusing to observe the shifty eyed tourists who are constantly pretending to read signs or averting their gaze between stops, and then leap into panic mode every time we get to one, fearful that they'll miss there designated departure point. Riding the subway needn't be an exercise in Defcon 1 Red Alert type readiness, relax and soak up the atmosphere around you instead...its some of the richer that you'll experience anywhere.
Which brings me to my stories. I've told the one about my friend Davide before but its worth telling again. Last summer I was going who knows where and this Italian comes to the door of the train asking "uptown?" I said yes and he jumped on. He knows english but isn't fluent so it took a little hand gesturing and pointing to get our points across to each other and I assume he made it to his destination. The funny part is I began my tenure as a student at F&M a couple days later and my family thought it would be good to spend the night prior to move-in in Lancaster so we stayed at the Lancaster Arts Hotel. Breakfast on the morning of move-in and as I move about to grab my toast before it burns the same Italian tourist who I had helped a few days before walked in. How is it possible for two strangers to meet twice in places 160 miles apart. I found out he works for Pfizzer and that his name is Davide and we are now facebook friends and say hello from time to time. I have a standing offer to visit Italy...but money is forever funny :)
Another story involves a newly moved couple from Seattle who had settled on Central Park West sometime last year. I was with my mom heading into the city to catch the Staten Island Ferry and go exploring when I overheard the unmistakable sounds of confusion from the couple. Its hard to explain but its that halting speech pattern usually sprinkled with a few "this is it" or "this has to be it" and I knew they needed a little guidance. After squaring away their subway question the conversation turned to their idea to move from the city into Brooklyn. They had been looking at places in Brooklyn Heights and had eaten at the semi-eponymous Heights Cafe to sample the local fare. Of course Mom and I launched into ambassadorial mode (we should really be paid) and espoused on the other eateries in the neighborhood, in our neighborhood, the greenery in Prospect Park, etc. But since they were focused on Brooklyn Heights I mentioned the Brooklyn Promenade and was horrified to discover that they didn't know about it. So as we exited at Chambers St to transfer to the 1 to South Ferry, we encouraged them to take a stroll down there, especially at or near sunset.
The funniest story of recent memory involved a group of young male acrobats on an A train I was on last week. They got on at Port Authority (Times Square for most people) with me and instantly started bickering. The guy with the stereo begged his friend to pick the track, that friend refused. In the meantime we had arrived at Penn Station (34th St/Madison Square Garden) and the dude with the stereo turned his attention to asking the boarding passengers to leave the middle of the train clear. Surprisingly everyone complied. Feeling accomplished stereo kid turned his attention back to asking his colleagues to pick the track for them to do their tricks to. If you have ridden the A train downtown out of Penn Station you know there is that slight hitch to the left just before the train gets into 23rd Street, well stereo kid apparently forgot because the jolt made him drop the cds. By the time all of them had been recovered we had gotten to 14th Street where the boarding passengers did not heed stereo kid's pleas to leave the middle clear with one disgruntled white gentleman snapping "I'm getting off next stop!" Turns out the group of acrobats were departing at West 4th as well. The show the group put on may not have been much in the way of acrobatic prowess...but they certainly have a future in comedy.
I wrote this from my customary futon perch at home, chuckling at the memory of the not so acrobatic comics.
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