I don’t use the subway much, but have started to work out the best place to stand on the platform, the right time of day to be there with a buggy and the best place to sit in the carriage. I do this much aplomb today. I am sitting opposite J, who is wide awake. He and I exchange smiles then I read, he stares. Then the guy opposite me says, ‘oh my Lord, I thought that woman sat next to me (next to J) left without her baby!’ Realising the baby is mine, he looks noticeably relieved as I explain it is better for me to see him this way, than sat next to him. J is getting a lot of attention today. One woman catches his eye, he smiles coyly and to his right another woman goes out of her way to wave at him but he’s too busy with the first lady. We speed on down town and I hear a clipping noise. A man is standing nearby clipping his nails, getting the dirt out with the blade and snipping the rest. Yuck. We are out of range for the clippings but I am not the only one to look on in mild disgust. And towards the end of ride, two older ladies sit beside me and opposite J and proceed to play peekaboo with him the rest of the journey. He is in heaven, in his very own salon.
Category Archives: Transport
Subway sermon
So I’m sitting on the subway reading the advertising and looking around and through the carriage door between the cars comes a man looking very confident, wearing a suit and looking a bit like a ticket inspector. He walks purposefully to the other end of the carriage and stops, pauses to look out of the window and then marches back down the carriage to alert us all to the dangers of sin. He proffers that we are all breathing therefore we can be saved. He is zealous in his assertions and starts to tell us (well, those not wearing headphones or looking down to avoid any eye contact) that there is a computer held by the Pentagon called Huck (sic?) and that it controls the weather (I kid you not), it determines when there are to be earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and hurricanes. He stays with us for two stops and then thanks us and moves on to the next carriage. He’s still there on the train when we get off, same act, same words. Impressive. Still, I think I prefer to the two man Mariachi band I experienced last time I went on the subway. Thankfully Boris seemed to get rid of all this entertainment from the tube in London. What’s next?
The lights are on, but there’s no one in
Not in a New York taxi anyway. Logically you would think that if a taxi shows a light on its roof it is available for hire. Well it is and it isn’t. A taxi shows a light for available and it goes off when it picks up a passenger and becomes unavailable. But it also has two smaller lights on either side that say off duty. From a distance it is hard to tell which is on and it is very annoying. This annoyance is componded by the advertising shaped like a luminous toblerone stuck to the roof of the taxi that stays lit regardless. We aren’t the only ones to feel this way and the rather boring sounding but self explanatory New York Taxi and Limousine Commission met a couple of weeks ago to agree with us that this is a barmy system and should be phased out. So by the Spring all taxis are either available or unavailable. Doesn’t mean they will take any notice of you when you are waving your arm in the pouring rain trying to get one to stop, though.
Rockefeller christmas
We visited the Rockefeller Centre (Center) to see what all the fuss was about. New York stopped on 28 November when the christmas tree lights were switched on. It is magnificent. A 30 foot tree covered in 30,000 lights on a staggering 5 miles of wiring. This tradition started in 1933, the year the Rockefeller Plaza was opened. The fabulous TV series, 30 Rock is based on this famous address, with the wonderful Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin. Just around the corner is the famous Radio City, a venue currently hosting the christmas Rockettes, but soon to host Ed Sheeran and Keane, both British, I think. So many people there on Saturday, late afternoon. We tried to flag a taxi down but many were reluctant to go to the Rockefeller, we ended up changing our approach and asked for a street nearby. The streets are shut off to allow pedestrian access, tourists cram into the small spaces and I heard the inevitable comment about why bring a stroller (buggy) to this? I note this wasn’t directed to any of the many users of wheelchairs also enjoying the spectacle. Yes it was horrifically busy and a slow grind through the crowds to look at a tree may seem an odd way to spend a couple of hours, but it was worth it to share this New York tradition. Somehow the lighting of the tree donated by the Norwegian nation that sits in Trafalgar Square just isn’t the same.
Tip top tipping
Or not as the case may be. Tipping as something I do when in a restaurant, mostly taken care of by the bill coming with 10 – 15 per cent tip included and I don’t think too much about it. I’ll tip the cab driver, give the guy who delivered my paper in the sun, rain and snow at Christmas and that’s about it. In the US, and in particular here in New York, tipping is a way of life and it is expected. I am told that the tip should generally be double the sales tax, which in New York is 8.875 per cent. This is fine if you have bought a service, like a meal, a cab ride, a pedicure etc. Confusion begins when there is no sales tax barometer to use. So what to give the guy who delivers my groceries on Sunday afternoon. I ask the doorman in my building and he is reluctant to advise when I ask, but comes up with 3-4 dollars. So I give the very pleasant delivery guy 4 dollars and he seems happy. I am typically British in my nervousness in not wanting to cause offence by getting the tip wrong but too embarrased to ask every time. I think it may take some time to work this one out. And most importantly, I must stop thinking that the tip is the place R likes to go on a Sunday afternoon with a car load of rubbish.
The kindness of strangers
First time on the New York subway (that’s the underground or tube to my fellow Londoners). Taking my buggy (must learn to call it stroller here to avoid yet more confusion – we speak the same language apparently) down the endless steps, making sure to go the right direction (uptown or downtown), learning which are the fast trains, which stop everywhere – numbered lines go up and down, alpabetical lines go across. Boring but functional. The subway looks pretty unloved, it’s dingy but post Guiliani, it’s supposed to be safe and it’s pretty cheap at $2.25 flat fare. Getting a buggy through the turnstyles is challenging. I am told to swipe my Metrocard (Oystercard, but not as clever), turn the turnstyle manually and then pull the heavy metal gate to gain access. At which point an alarm invariably goes off and I look like a fare dodger. Marvellous. The stairs are way steeper than I’m used to, but so far I’ve been offered help most of the time, by men and women alike. I think they are mostly shocked and take pity on me, brave enough to do this on my own. I treat my final helper to a little British humour and say I’ll see him here same time next week. He responds by looking at me like I’m a crazy person and walks off quite quickly. Must work on my jokes.
Air, store, sea
It’s been a few years since we moved house, so moving to NYC was a great opportunity to declutter and reduce our stuff to a manageable amount. Well, thats what I thought before the packers arrived. Normally you get rid of the crud and pack the rest. Job done. Moving temporarily overseas means deciding: air, store, sea. Storing is pretty easy, we have a high rise flat in NYC so no need for garden stuff. Store. Anything electrical that likes a lot of power won’t work in the US, so store that. Box of CDs not opened in 3 years? Store – you never know (well, actually they will go the same way as my tapes, stored for years before being unceremoniously dumped in the tip) we might use them again. Unlikely. And various miscellaneous stuff we can’t quite part with but has no place in NYC. Air is hard. What does 70 cubic feet look like? A 3 seater sofa apparently. I have been eying mine up for weeks, imagining what I can’t do without for 2 weeks as the stuff being shipped takes 4-6 weeks to wander across the Atlantic. Turns out it’s a big pile of stuff that is thrown fairly randomly onto the 2 seater sofa in a ‘just in case’ approach to packing. I’m not sure I did a very good job there. And the rest gets packed beautifully by the 3 packers who have spent 2 days conscientiously wrapping everything in brown paper. And they are quick. I have put stuff down, thought ‘I’ll get that in a bit’ and it’s gone. Packed. I may have to confess to R that his jeans are somewhere safe and should arrive in January. And I’m pretty sure the rubbish bag is in there too.
nw3 to nyc 