Went on a long weekend getaway to "La Grosse Pomme" as we say. Just in time for the blizzard. Arrived at Grand Central station and commuted via crosstown shuttle and the Broadway line to my friend Yvette's appartment. Here's what happened on that 45 minute commute to let me know very clearly that I was not in Kansas anymore!
#1 Exiting Grand Central and entering the subway I hear a wonderful live jazz performance played by a quartet of Black musicians. So I stop to listen, re-arrange my bags a bit, and fish out a dollar for the open guitar case.
#2 Directly in my path as I walk onto the platform for the #1 train, is a tall man, head and arms painted metallic silver, talking to himself. Hmmm. I watch awhile and realize that he is performing for money - his schtick seems to be to stand stock still with his arms out and a HUGE silver smile on his face.
#3 Just beyond silver-man, sitting on the platform and reading a thick, black, hard-bound book, is a pregnant lady. The sign next to her tells us that she is pregnant, homeless, and fleeing an abusive household. I'm still wondering what she was reading so intently.
# 4 The train is delayed. The platform is VERY crowded. And people have a hard time walking to the other end because no one wants to be anywhere near the edge these days so everyone is crowded into the middle. But I am happy to wait because from upstairs I can hear someone playing Malian music on a kind of xylophone called a 'balafon'. Nice concert.
#5 I should have gone up to listen to the music, because when the train came it was packed. I squashed myself & my bags in. And then came the announcement letting everyone know very clearly that groping people in the train was a crime!
#6 Two stops from my destination, the official voice of the MTA announces over the PA that henceforth the train will stop at express stops only. Of course they do this after mob of new passengers have come on board so I have to jump up and push my way out. Just before the door. a man looks at me and says "WHY DID YOU WAIT SO LONG?" I told him.
#7 Then I shove myself onto the next local train, somewhat less crowded. I was amazed at all the equipment people were carrying on this one. Like me, some with suitcases. Large boxes. And a bass. Strollers. An Asian hipster with a bicycle.
Here's the beautiful Art Deco light fixture in the entry of my friend Yvette's building. Gorgeous.
We of course visited that Mecca of the West Side - ZABAR's! Brought home cheese, lamb sausages and half of a smoked whitefish. The best souvenirs are edible.
Ah Broadway. One of my favorite avenues, in any weather.
And here's why tall water-proof Wellies are so popular among the urban crowd. They don't need snow boots because the streets & sidewalks are plowed & shoveled rather quickly. But you need your kayak to cross at interesections because of the ice-blocked sewer drains.
For those who miss the grit and noise of the 7th Ave. IRT line as much as I do, I recorded one minute of platform time and ear-splitting squealing train arrival. Sadly blogger refuses to upload it. Merde. You're welcome to come over and hear it anytime.
Or call. I'll play it for you over the phone.
So from now on I will use this format to send postcards. I hope it will be more effective than my usual effort which involves buying lots and lots of postcards, and never mailing any of them.
Til my next trip, bye!
