very simple

OK, fine, the snowstorm turned out to be worse than expected, and it’s not even over yet. But it’s still not the worst I’ve seen, and it’s certainly not the worst I’ve seen in new york city. The one thing I actually forgot about a big snowdump? That when you don’t have to go to work, it can be quite fun. I dragged myself out of my apartment today, even though I didn’t have to, just to take some pictures. And it was enjoyable. cold, yes, but still fun – It’s the first time that I’ve taken pictures of my new ‘hood too – went into Central Park and caught all the sledding and cross-country skiing and general silliness that snow brings out in people.

By Tuesday, it’ll be miserable, with the sooty, dirty snow and the slush piles at every corner, but for today, I remembered how much fun snow can be.

[Update 2015] In an effort to reduce the number of holdover pages on the blog, I am slowly (very slowly) integrating these albums into the appropriate historical posts on the blog itself. As such, the photos referenced in this post now appear directly below.

Ok. Not so much a week, but more like some random stuff that has gone on since the last time I posted.

I got a really unpleasant bacterial infection and now I’m on Cipro. Yum. You know it’s good when they’re giving you the stuff that they give to Anthrax victims.

In the span of two weeks, they’ve filmed not one, but two John Lennon-related movies on my street. There’s the one that I think is this one, but only because I thought I saw a number of folks lip syncing. They were set up for three days straight, in their hippie-60s gear. Before I started rooting around the internet, I thought it was some weird Hair remake. Then there was the one that Yoko Ono tried to prevent from filming, because, you know, they’re doing a location shoot recreation of her husband’s murder right in front of the apartment where she still lives. Freaks. Plus, Jared Leto is way too cute to have gained a whole bunch of weight to play Chapman. That was yesterday. I suppose this is what I get for living near the Dakota.

Oh, and I have to go to Mexico tomorrow (today?). For work. Just for a few days. I keep telling myself that, and I’ve truly only packed for travel through wednesday, but with the sickness, and the tiredness, and the cipro dizziness, I’m not exactly psyched in any event. Even though it does mean warm weather. Mmmm. Warm weather when I’m taking crazy antibiotics that require me to stay out of the sun. But hey, while I’m gone, my dad’s going to hang the shelves that I finally ordered for above my desk. Thanks Dad!! So that’s exciting.

aahhh. The Tappan Zee Bridge. The bridge of my childhood. Spanning from Rockland (where I grew up) to Westchester (where everyone assumes I grew up), the Tappan Zee loomed large in my youth. Going to visit my grandparents in the Bronx? went across the bridge. Wanting to go to the "good" mall in high school? went across the bridge. The GW too far away (and way too intense) for drivers’ ed? why, go across the Tappan Zee! Want a quick way to explain where you grew up to someone who had never heard of Rockland county? Just point out that it was the "other" side of the Tappan Zee from Westchester (which no one ever had a problem finding on the map)…and no, it’s not New Jersey (no offense, my friends from the Garden State – it just gets a bit irritating when you have to pay New York taxes yet you keep getting disowned through ignorance).

Well. The good old bridge has reached the end of its "useful life". As in, it was only built to last for 50 years and that 50 years is up. The article goes into the political infighting that appears to be making getting a new bridge that much more difficult, but it just made me a bit nostalgic.

They called the bridge ugly (built during the Korean War, it was done on the cheap), but as a child, crossing the bridge almost daily to stay with my grandparents while my folks went to work in the city, I was fascinated by the way the steel framing of the suspended section would flicker past like a strobe light. I would stare out the window mesmerized. And the bridge itself crossed the widest part of the Hudson. Which meant that you spent a wonderfully decadent amount of time staring outward at the sailboats and barges that would pass underneath. Particularly if you were stuck in traffic.

I don’t often have a reason to cross the bridge anymore. None of my friends still live in Rockland, and it’s a quicker drive to take the GW to the Palisades from where I am on the rare occasion that I go to see my semi-family during the jewish holidays. The bridge doesn’t make sense for commuting into the city – it was really only a commuter link for folks to get from Rockland to the Metro North trains on the east side of the river (Don’t get me wrong – that’s a whole lot of people).

Thanks to the bureaucratic morass that is the New York State transportation authority, it’ll be around for a while longer, but I’ll miss it when it’s gone.

Ladies and Gentlemen – I present to you the stupidest article on the transit strike that could possibly have been written this week:

"A Sense of Fashion is Lost in Transit"

That’s right. Because when someone leaves their house in Brooklyn or Queens at four in the morning to spend several hours walking in below-freezing temperatures to try to make it to their jobs on time, what they should be focusing on is whether their scarves and hats are coordinated. Otherwise, they may end up as a fashion "don’t" in the Thursday Styles section.

I’ve been walking around today, chilled to the bone. All I want to do is curl up in front of a roaring fire and drink lots of hot chocolate.

I’ll be the first to say that my commute is relatively easy – 20 blocks (about 1 mile). It’s actually a pleasure to walk when, say, it’s about 15-20 degrees warmer than it was today. But this morning, by the time I got to work, I thought my face was going to fall off (and yes, I wore a sweater, wool coat, scarf, gloves, uggs and a hat that covered my ears). But I couldn’t get rid of that "chilly" feeling all day at work.

The transit strike is on.

And as an extra added bonus, it’s going to be super cold today. Yippee!

I actually sympathize with the transit workers much more than the MTA – The MTA has been cooking the books for ages (it was discovered last year that they actually kept two sets of books), and they recently announced a billion dollar surplus. Which they promptly gave away in discounted rides to tourists.

I’m pretty sure that the people who travel all the way to NY to look at a big Christmas tree at this time of year really wouldn’t care whether they had to pay $2 or $1 to get around. But announcing such extra money, and basically giving it away just days before the TWU contract expires, and then crying poverty to a point where you’re demanding that workers (who work one of the hardest, dirtiest, most stressful jobs in the city) work an extra seven years before retirement? Is just really bad form.

If a private corporation had an underfunded pension system, they would be legally required to use the extra money to fund the pension before they started just giving it away. So why didn’t the MTA use even a portion of the billion to shore up the very thing that they’re now claiming is the cause of their inability to meet worker demands?

I’m not saying that the TWU wasn’t asking for too much in their initial demands. But that’s exactly what they were – initial demands. I don’t think they’re expecting to get everything, but I do think that the MTA isn’t acting in good faith.

All I know is that I now have to walk to work. Which sucks.

One of the benefits of moving to my new apartment is that my newspaper no longer gets stolen in the morning. The Times Jake Mooney profiles his vain attempts (or really, attempts at attempts) to catch a newspaper thief, and it brought back misty memories of my old habitat.

OK. Not so misty.

It feels like it’s every year, although according to the paper, the last one was back in 2002. That’s right, it’s time to start worrying about another transit strike here in NYC. For me, it’s actually not so bad – I actually walk to work from my new homestead pretty regularly – unless it’s freezing or raining, it’s a pretty easy walk (I actually timed it the other day, and discovered that it’s faster to walk than to take the bus. Plus I can stop at Starbucks on the way).

Transit strikes are illegal, but it doesn’t mean that they won’t happen. And the predictions and reports keep pointing out that the two sides are further apart than they have been in years.

The potential for irrationality – others use the words intransigence or hotheadedness – seems slightly higher in this December’s negotiations than in the transit talks three years ago, when the two sides stopped the clock and then announced a settlement 19 hours after the strike deadline.

This time around, the bargaining stew seems somewhat more volatile because the transportation authority is demanding sizable concessions on pensions and health coverage, saying that it needs to worry about future deficits even though it has a budget surplus of nearly $1 billion. Many transit workers believe the authority is sitting on a pile of money, and they are looking for generosity from the authority, not demands for givebacks.

They were actually just discussing this on the radio as well, and they pointed out that it’s really hard for the MTA to cry poverty when they’re running around giving everyone "half-price" tourist fares every weekend until Christmas or New Years. I noticed it when I took the bus this weekend.

For me, it’s kind of pointless – I pay for a "yearly" unlimited metrocard through my office. And the other day in connection with all of this holiday craziness, I received what may the stupidest "bonus" ever. In order to "make up" for the discounted fares, our transit check program just sent us all $10 metrocards. Great, right? Except I pay for an unlimited metrocard – my monthly fees stay the same whether I use the card or not. So why on earth would I use a different card? They should have just rebated $10 to my paycheck. Plus, because the bonus card is a "holiday special" it expires in February, meaning that I can’t hold onto it for when my other card runs out (next September!). I suppose I could find someone to give it away to, but it’s still retarded.

Anyhoo – I’m off to work…feeling much better after I slept pretty much all day on Friday….

I’m normally not one to get caught up in the whole music nostalgia thing, and I like the Beatles just fine, but when I woke up this morning, NPR was broadcasting a pretty lengthy tribute to John Lennon, who was killed on this day, twenty-five years ago.

It was a little surreal – and it made me pretty sad, and I think in part it may have to do with the fact that my apartment is on the same block as the Dakota, and I now walk past the spot where it all happened on almost a daily basis (even crazier? That my stepmother, the prior resident of this apartment, had actually been living here for a good two years when it happened). There’s usually at least a few tourists out there, trying to get to the "spot" (since it’s actually inside the entryway to the courtyard, the doormen usually don’t let them past). This Saturday, there was a bigger crowd than usual, and the poor doormen were actually having a pretty rough time trying to keep the gawkers from climbing on the building pediments. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like when I go outside today…

I have some memories of that day. I was only six years old, but my parents were devastated, and I remember watching the memorial services and crowds around the block (my block) on TV all day. I don’t think we left the house. I realize that living in New York, I live near history every day, but I’m normally not so conscious of being so close to it.

Anyway, I didn’t really have anything coherent to post on this subject – I just needed to get the thoughts out before I walked outside…

So this little entry in curbed actually reminded me of a totally silly conversation I had last week while walking home from work.

As I turned onto Central Park South from 7th Avenue, this happened:

Random Touristy Guy: Excuse me, how do I get to 59th Street?
Me: Um, Central Park South IS 59th Street…it’s only called "Central Park South" for the duration of, um, Central Park
RTG: OK, but what direction is 59th Street?
Me: You’re on Central Park South, which IS 59th Street. It’s 59th street in BOTH directions!
RTG: BUT WHAT DIRECTION IS 59th STREET???
Me: THIS IS 59TH STREET!!!!

Now, if he was looking for a particular address, he never mentioned it (and frankly, he never even said whether he was looking for "east" or "west" 59th, which would have enabled me to at least point in one direction or the other based on our location). I just watched him wander away (east, by the way), and shook my head in exhaustion.