9:45 a.m. Board 4 Train at Borough Hall. Head toward Manhattan.
9:50 to 10:00. Subway sits, unmoving, due to “sick passenger” at Bowling Green.
10:00 to 10:15. Subway sits, unmoving, due to “smoke conditions” at Wall Street.
10:15. Subway turned back to Brooklyn
10:20. Arrive at Borough Hall via 4 Train.
10:25. Find R Train. Take R Train to Union Square. Transfer to 6.
11:10 a.m. Arrive at work.
Give up your seat. Or else. According to CBS, “a new campaign reminds subway and bus riders to give up reserved seats to the elderly or disabled. Those who refuse could be fined $25 to $50 — or even face up to 10 days in jail.”
Well, isn’t that fine and dandy. I’m all for this, of course, but I do have some concerns. Who’s defining elderly here? And what if I can’t tell the difference between a pregnant woman and one who’s been pounding a few too many beers recently?
But my bigger complaint is that this doesn’t go nearly far enough. What about the assholes who take up two seats, either by spreading their legs wide or just throwing all their crap in the spot next to them? What about sunflower-seed eaters and finger-nail spitters? What about the salami slingers and diaper changers?
The family of four was treating the subway car like they’d treat the beach at Coney Island, throwing trash under the seats, building a nest of garbage. And not just paper, mind you. The father was making sandwiches and throwing slices of salami under the seats. I half expected sea gulls and pigeons to get on at the next stop. Continue reading “One Day I Will Get Shot”→
That’s not news. That’s just telling us all what we already knew: The MTA is a bunch of gibbering baboons. And not particularly bright ones at that. The Freedom Tower (or whatever it’s called now) will be finished at the World Trade Center before the Second Avenue subway line. And I don’t realistically expect that to be done before 2050.
Excuse my language, but someone explain to me how the FUCKthe MTA gets to stick taxes into my cellphone bill. And not just one, mind you, but three separate ones. An MTA sales tax, an MTA excise tax and an MTA surcharge. I’m sorry. A surcharge? For what? This sniveling group of math illiterates does nothing to enhance my cellphone service on a monthly basis. I could possibly–POSSIBLY–see a small fee if there was actual cell service in subway stations and on the trains. But that’s not the case (and, to be honest, I don’t want to hear the morons on the train making plans with their idiot friends or fighting with their stupid spouses over whose turn it is to pick up the damn milk on the way home from work).
Of course, New York City being what it is, there are a total of 10 taxes on your cellphone bill. Plus the Federal tax.
I love this quote from the story: “If there was a $5 monkey fee, even if they couldn’t explain it, you would still have to pay,” sniped Danny Schluck, 28, of Bushwick.
Hey, you know what Danny Schluck of Bushwick? A monkey fee is something I could get behind. At least monkeys are funny and bring joy to the lives of many. Besides, considering the MTAs rational budgeting plans, perhaps a monkey fee would be a more honest way of describing their taxes.
Braving giant rats, albino alligators and hungry CHUDs, I headed into underground Brooklyn today with a group of friends. Three years now, every other Sunday, I’ve watched people climbing a rickety ladder down into a manhole in the middle of the Court Street/Atlantic Avenue intersection for tours of the Atlantic Avenue Tunnel. Continue reading “In the Bowels of Brooklyn”→