The MTA: An Adventure on Every Ride

I swear the MTA's slogan should be "The MTA: An Adventure on Every Ride" It seemed like deja-vu with my ride down to work this evening. In a trip similar to the one Myron and I took a few weeks ago, I had a similar odyssey in the opposite direction.

My ride started out standing on the 6 train that was full of the loud beach-goers from Orchard Beach. Thankfully I have only two or three more weeks of dealing with that until the beach closes and the trains on the weekends in my neck of the woods gets quiet. But I digress.

As the train goes express from Parkchester to Hunts Point Avenue (due to ongoing construction) the ride is swift and smooth. Lo and behold it was not to remain that way. Upon arriving at Hunts Point Avenue, the conductor announces that "We are being held at the station due to the dispatcher. Please be patient". I really must say that I hate to be told to be patient, especially if the train is stuck in between cars. As if I can go anywhere. Again, I digress.

I really don't want to be late to work so I get off the train and decide that I'll take the #2 train at the Simpson Street stop about 3 blocks away. Lady Luck seems to pity me a bit and has the Bx5 bus sitting there waiting for me. The Bx5 bus makes the four block or so walk from Bruckner Boulevard to Westchester Avenue go by in a snap. As I run up the long set of stairs I hope that there is #2 train service that is not being interrupted by construction. Yeah right.

In the way that Lady Luck look favorable on me, that fucker Murphy, whose law seemed to rule this particular part of my ride, screwed me over. A big sign in green letters said "No #2 trains" and the token booth clerk was letting people know that there were only #5 trains running and there were signal delays. Yeah yeah yeah, I knew that already. Down I go to make the next leg of my journey.

On the corner I waited for the same Bx19 that Myron and I took. As the bus arrived, I got on a bus that sounded like Bleecker Street Bar on a Friday night. It was loud and full, but unlike the #6 train I was able to get a seat opposite a woman with a young child in a stroller. Why do I mention the young woman and her child. Well, here goes.

The woman is texting on her phone and listening to her jams while the kid is going absolutely bonkers in the stroller. She's standing, jumping, twisting, leaning over the edge almost hitting her head on the floor (before I catch her) and the woman has no clue as to what is going on since she's engrossed in her phone and music. It finally took the kid taking her sandals off and throwing them halfway down the bus before the lady looked up and gave the kid a smack on the arm. It seemed like the kid has gotten a few of those before since she shrugged it off and kept twisting to an unheard version of Chubby Checker "Twist". LOL. Really folks, I wish I could make this up.

Finally, the bus crosssed the bridge from the Bronx into Harlem Heights where I get off on 145th Street and St. Nicholas Avenue to catch the Downtown D train. Why the D train? Well, the train leaves me at the Broadway-Lafayette Street Station which is a block away from the bar. My ride should be easy some part of the way, Right? The irony of where I stood hits me and causes me to chuckle. I am currently reading Ian Fleming's Live and Let Die, which is his second James Bond book. In this book his adversary is Mr. Big, the crime boss of Harlem who is an agent of SMERSH. Funny that I end up in somewhat the general vicinity of where I am reading. I really need to look into the nightclubs that Fleming describes in the story.

I go down the stairs of the station, swipe my card and help a young woman with a stroller down the stairs (a different one this time). As I'm waiting for the D and writing this post, I just shake my head. The electronic sign says in bright orange letters: All D train service will run local from 125th Street to 59th Street. In someone else's world the ride would be smooth and uneventful without any further interruptions. But I am not someone else and not surprisingly it doesn't end there.

As we approach 47-50th Streets-Rockerfeller Center Station, the conductor announces that the last stop on the D is 34th Street-Herald Square. So to continue my trip Downtown, I need to transfer to the N or R train which is upstairs or to the F which is across the platform. Since I'm tired of stairs, I decide to take the F and get off on the 42nd Street-Bryant Park Station to wait across the platform for (the hopefully arriving soon) F train. Being the train fanatic that my son is, he would truly get a kick with the amount of buses and trains that I have taken to get to work. So that gets a dry laugh out of me. At this point the ride is going on past two hours and counting.

As I wait for an F train that seems not to be coming, I start to second guess myself on not taking the D to 34th Street to change for the N or the R. But as a native Astorian I've had my fair share of delays on the N (For the Never Train) and the R (For the Rarely Train) to last my whole life, thank you very much. My gleaming chariot arrives in grand style into the station with nary an empty seat in sight. Surely I couldn't have expected to get a seat on every part of my ride, Right? LOL. Off I go towards the Broadway-Lafayette Street with 5 stops to go hoping nothing else happens to delay me even further.

The remaining ride is smooth and I go upstairs exiting the station on the corner of Crosby and Houston Streets. The time on my phone says 9:20pm. A forty-five minute trip done in two and a quarter hours.

Thank you MTA, my ride this evening was divine. Truly, it was an adventure on every ride.

FH

Myron and Sisco's MTA Adventure

Myron and I left the BSB Saturday night/Sunday morning on our adventure home. Myron has convinced me to take a cab with him to the Bronx. Reason for the cab is that I have to attend a BBQ with my family at my wife's boss' home in Bellerose Village later on in the day. Taking a cab would get me home faster. But there was a small problem, there were a bunch of people waiting for cabs, so we weren't able to catch one. We decided to take the train. And away we go.

The 6 is under construction at the Uptown Bleecker Street station. In order to go Uptown, a downtown train must be taken to Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall station. You cross to the Uptown platform and take the 6 back up express to Union Square and the rest of the stops to the Bronx. This has been happening for a few weekends now so it is not a surprise but here is where the inevitable monkey wrench comes in. As we're waiting, we hear an MTA employee telling the waiting passengers that there is no 6 train service. Apparently someone was hit by the train and they had no clue when service would resume. Myron and I decided to take the 2 on 7th Avenue. The problem with that was the 2 train is under construction from 96th Street on and the only way into the Bronx from there was via shuttle bus service. We were briefly sidetracked by this man rolling on the ground on East Houston Street trying to remove something off of his body. Whether he had something on him or not was unknown but it was sure intersting to see. But back to the business at hand

Off we walked down West Houston Street towards 7th Avenue. Even as we walked we noticed that there were a lot of people trying in vain to catch taxis. So we resigned ourselves to our fate on the train. After a quick stop at a deli for water we arrive at the 1 train station at Houston and Varick Streets to hear the rumble of an arriving train. Running down the stairs go Myron and I catching the Uptown 1 train in the nick of time. As we're riding Uptown, we notice that someone had left their phone behind. It was a Motorola from like 2000 with the big antenna coming out from the top corner. Definitely old school tech. In a pure stroke of genius Myron comes up with an alternate plan.

His plan called for us to take the 1 train Uptown to 145th Street where we could catch the Bx19 bus into the Bronx. The bus would leave him off on 149th Street near where he lives and I could take the bus to Hunts Point Avenue and Southern Boulevard where I can catch the Bx5 bus to my neck of the woods. Luckily for us there was a 12 minute wait for the bus and a shish kebob stand on the corner of Broadway and 145th Street. I highly recommend the kebobs from this gentleman. On Point!

The bus arrives at 5:38am and off it goes down 145th into the Bronx and down 149th Street. I feel that I have a chance to catch the 6:03am Bx5 but I could only ask for so much luck. I arrived here at 6:05am having just missed my bus. Alas, I would have to catch the next Bx5 bus which is due to arrive at 6:33am. And at 6:33am here came the Bx5 and off I continued with my best Odysseyus impersonation. Luckily for me, the Bx5 only takes about 12 minutes from Hunts Point to the corner of White Plains Road and Lafayette Avenue. After an uneventful walk I arrive home. I notice that my ride home took over two and a half hours to accomplish. I left the bar at 4:27am and I walked in my door at 6:56am and all I could do was wonder about a particular question that popped into my head.

The question that I asked myself was this: How the fuck do tourists manuever through this city when shit like this happens. Myron and I are native New Yorkers who know our way around town. But I see these tourists walking around during the day with their thumbs up their ass imagine them at night after a few drinks in a bar. God Bless them. After all we went through I'm glad to say this: Home Sweet Home.

FH

Miriam Miriam Needs My Help

I must be a magnet for the email scams these days. This time I received not only one email from a "young lady from Ghana named Miriam Miriam" but three. She must be special to have the same first and last names. She really must have something important for me since she's trying to hard to contact me. Well here's the first one she sent me:

HELLO,

I AM MIRIAM FROM ACCRA,GHANA. MY PARENTS AND MY ONLY BROTHER WERE KILLED IN AN ACCIDENT. SINCE THEN I HAVE BEEN WITH MY UNCLES BUT THEY HAVE MADE THING TO BE MORE DIFFICULT FOR ME BECAUSE OF THEIR EYES ON MY LATE FATHER’S PROPERTIES. BEFORE THE DEATH OF MY FATHER, HE HAS $5.5 M USD IN A FIXED DEPOSIT DOMICILIARY ACCOUNT WITH A BANK IN ACCRA, GHANA, WHICH I AM THE NEXT OF KIN. I HUMBLY NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE IN TRANSFERRING THIS FUND FOR INVESTMENT AND I WILL GIVE YOU 20% FOR YOU EFFORT .ON HEARING FROM YOU I WILL GIVE YOU MORE DETAILS.

SINCERELY
MIRIAM

I guess since I didn't answer her first request, she decided to be a bit more familiar in her second email to me:

DEAREST ONE
I AM VERY SORRY FOR APPROACHING YOU THROUGH THIS WAY KNOWING MY MESSAGE WILL COME TO YOU AS A SURPRISE SINCE I DON'T KNOW YOU OR MET WITH YOU BEFORE BUT AM OF THE BELIEVE THAT YOU WOULD BE OBLIGED TO COME TO MY ASSISTANCE AFTER HEARING ABOUT MY SITUATION.I AM MIRIAM ,18 YEAR OLD GIRL, I WAS FORMERLY A MEDICAL STUDENT OF UNIVERSITY OF GHANA.LATE LAST YEAR OCTOBER 2009,THE REBELS IN MY COUNTRY STRUCK OUR TOWNSHIP AND KILL MY PARENTS BECAUSE MY FATHER WAS A POLITICAL LEADER IN MY COUNTRY GHANA.BEFORE HIS DEATH HE HAS $5.5 M USD IN A DOMICILIARY ACCOUNT WITH A BANK IN GHANA WHICH I AM THE NEXT OF KIN.PLEASE I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE IN THE FOLLOWING WAYS,TO SERVE AS THE GUARDIAN OF THIS FUND,PROVIDE A BANK ACCOUNT WHERE THIS MONEY WOULD BE TRANSFERRED,MAKE ARRANGEMENT FOR ME TO COME OVER AND LOOK FOR A GOOD VENTURE WHERE THIS MONEY WILL BE INVESTED,I AM WILLING TO OFFER YOU 20% OF TH TOTAL SUM AS COMPENSATION OF YOUR EFFORT AND 5% FOR ANY OTHER EXPENSE YOU MADE AFTER A SUCCESSFUL TRANSFER

THANKS AND GOD BLESS YOU
SINCERELY
MIRIAM

So now I am being address as "Dearest One". Very coquettish Miriam. You must be a real minx LOL. Not waiting for me to answer her, she sends me a third email a minute later:

Dearest One

I feel quite safe dealing with you through this medium (Internet) has been greatly abused, I choose to reach you through it because it still remains the fastest, surest and most secured medium of communication.I know that this mail will come to you as a surprise as we have never met before, but still i will want you to take me like a friend, and glance through my short letter.I am Miriam, 18yrs from Ghana,the only Survived child of Late Mr Robert who was murdered alongside my mother and only brother last year by rebels. I am Presently in an orphanage because of wickedness of uncle's and relatives. Before his death he had a domiciliary account here, up to the tune of (Five Million Five Hundred Thousand US dollars).Please I need your assistance to get this money transferred to you for my education, investment and to be my guardian before my uncles will get hold of me and the money. I shall forward to you with the necessary documents on confirmation of your acceptance to assist me for the transfer of the money to you. I shall be glad to reserve this respect and opportunity for you, if you so desire, but i do urge you to give the matter your immediate attention it deserves. If this proposal is acceptable by you, please do not make undue advantage of the trust i bestow on you,and your urgent reply is highly needed today. I am willing to offer you reasonable percentage from the total money as compensation for your effort. May God touch your heart and use you to bring back happiness and joy in my life

Your Sincerely
Miriam

Again with the Dearest One Miriam? This Miriam sure is persistent and capable at pulling at the heart-strings. She needs me to help her with a money transfer in the sum of Five Million Five Hundred Thousand US dollars to be used for her education, investments and to be used so I can become her guardian. This little 18-year old almost made me crack a crocodile tear.

Are people really that gullible in cyber-land? I must be in the wrong line of work if these scammers are actually successful in their attempts to bilk money from poor saps. Amazing, simply amazing.

FH

Guess It Was Bound to Happen Sometime

For the first time in my life I was stopped by the Police while in the subway. I just finished closing the bar with Rhea and after walking with her to catch her a cab, I walked over to Han's Deli and got a Snickers Ice Cream bar. As I walk back towards the Bleecker Street Station I see the police pull up to the corner. I don't think anything of it and I walk downstairs to the train station.

As I swipe my Metrocard I hear the police radios as they are coming down the stairs. I'm finishing the ice cream bar and as I am throwing the wrapper in the garbage can I hear "Excuse me sir" being said towards my direction as I am approached by four police officers. One of the officers I recognize from the routine community checks the Police conduct in the neighborhood where the bar is located. One of the other officers asks me "Where are you coming from".

Imagine my surprise, I have four officers standing in a semi-circle around me while I have the remains of a Snickers Ice Cream bar in my mouth. LOL. I mumble out past the caramel, ice cream and peanuts that I just closed the bar on the corner, the Bleecker Street Bar. Then the officer asked me what I do there and I said Assistant Manager/Head of Security (After all, I had to make it sound important). The lead officer asked to see my ID, which I willingly provided and asked if he could check my pockets. I said sure since all I had in there were my keys and some cash. As they were checking my ID, I apologize to the officers for answering their questions with ice cream in my mouth. That got a chuckle out from them. The main officer told me they had gotten a call and that I fit the description. Must have been some handsome dude who stole a pretty lady's heart. LOL. (Ah levity is a beautiful thing).

Once they were satisfied that I wasn't who they were looking for, my ID was returned to me and the officers apologized for stopping me. To which I responded "No Worries". The one officer that I recognized from the community checks nodded to me as she left. I continued to walk down the platform when a young man that was seated on a bench looked up at me and said "They're not supposed to do that" to which I responded "I'm not worried about it, I have nothing to hide".

It is like I tell the people that come to the bar without any form of identification: ALWAYS HAVE YOUR ID. Imagine if I didn't have my ID on me, I would have probably been taken to the Ninth precinct to establish my identity and gotten home really late and super tired. I understand what the young man was telling me about the Police not being allowed to stop me in the manner that they did. In all honesty, I don't have anything to hide. Never had and never will. The way I see it, why should I be hostile to the Police when all they are doing is their jobs. They were polite and never disrespected me while asking their questions and since there weren't any guns drawn I didn't feel threatened in the least. I guess after 37 years of living in New York City, I'd have to get stopped by the Police at least once. LOL.

In the end, I caught the 4:13am train as scheduled and I'm on my way home.

FH

When Fear Teams Up With Gut Instinct

For the first time in a long time I felt fear. As I walked from the St. Lawrence train station towards White Plains Road, I spotted a few guys hanging out by the corner. As I walked closer I noticed that it was actually five guys in total that I saw on both corners. There could have been more hiding in the shadows.

Immediately I go on the defensive by taking off my headphones to have a better awareness of the situation I might be walking into. There were two men walking a few feet ahead of me and these gentlemen seemed to be the object of attention for the group.

As the men crossed the intersection, one of the five darted towards them and they ran into the middle of Westchester Avenue. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Westchester Avenue, the 6 train elevated section runs above Westchester Avenue so there is often a decent amount of traffic under the "EL". Luckily for the two men, at 5:00am, the traffic on Westchester is limited. Getting back to the story, as the men ran to elude their pursuers their actions caused the men who were hanging out to laugh loudly. The man who initially made his way to the pair was shouting "Yo, they suspect my nigga. They suspect", which caused the other men to laugh even louder. Then I approached the corner.

Seeing how the pair ran and were jeered, I just decided to keep walking straight ahead past the guys. After I had passed then and walk down a bit further down the block I looked back to see if I was being followed. Luckily for me I wasn't. Now, I don't want anyone to think that I am a tough guy based on my decision to keep walking straight instead of crossing the street away from the group. I am a Bouncer in New York City and after having done so for 15 years I believe that doing so for that length of time has allowed me to learn to analyze situations in a swift manner and to be able to act accordingly. So in deciding to just keep walking, I felt that I would attract the least amount of attention, which is what happened. Plus my size can be imposing and I try to use that to my advantage whenever possible. Not to disparage the two gentlemen who chose to flee from the situation but compared to me both of those guys would not have filled my 6'1" and 300lb frame. I guess they were deemed to be easy pickings.

You may be wondering where my fear comes into the equation. It is like I tell people who ask me while at work if I am a tough guy because I am a bouncer. I tell them that I'm not a tough guy. I just work my shift and hope that I can get home to see my kids in one piece. Luckily I work in a bar where incidents are rare (BTW, knocking on wood as I write this). That's basically it in a nutshell. I see at least five dudes who are looking for trouble and I know that no matter how well I can handle myself, I would be outnumbered. I just want to get home in one piece.

Thankfully I didn't have to see the scenario play out in any other way, shape or form. Hopefully, it didn't play out differently for somebody else.
FH

Ladies, Your Chariot Awaits

The Bx 5 approached the bus stop at White Plains Road and Lafayette Street this evening. The stop was full of older ladies and the driver lowers the front of the bus to help the ladies get on the bus. As I wait with them to get on, it seems as if they think the bus is lowered to let off a handicapped passenger so they just stand there. No one gets off and no one gets on.

I hear the driver say to the ladies: "Haven't you ladies ever seen a good looking older gentleman before. Your chariot awaits". He punctuates the line with a hearty laugh as the ladies get on the bus giggling like schoolgirls. Most NYC city bus drivers can learn a lesson in personality and friendliness from this gentleman. Bravo!!!!

FH