First day of school
I am teaching at a school just north of the Bronx, 9 am on Friday mornings. This means that I get all the conveniences of a Bronx feel (taquerias, cheap bodegas, el) without the conveniences of the MTA transit system, which abandons me at the city's northern edge. But I am industrious, and the night before my first class I went online to Westchester County Transit's website to figure out that I needed either the 40 or the 41 bus to take me from the end of the subway line to the college.
So, Friday morning, at the end of my 81 minute train ride - which, by the way, was fascinating and I LOVE the Bronx nomenclature (Gun Hill Road; Eastchester/Dyre) - I descend to street level, find the bus stop and check the schedule. The last 40/41 passed a few minutes ago, at 8:00, and the next is due at... 5:00 pm? Que?
That's alright, I'll walk; I pop into a deli to get directions. There is a man on the threshold eating an egg sandwich, but inside there is no one behind the counter. I find the cook in the back, and ask him how to get to [street] and [cross-street]. He says, "Well that's pretty far."
"I know but I can't figure out the bus."
"Well hey, this guy will take you," gesturing to egg sandwich man. "He's a cab."
Me, turning to egg sandwich man: "Um, you're a cab?"
Egg man: "Yeah, I'll take you there."
Cook: "Don't worry, miss. I know this guy. He's a good guy."
Me: "Sure... okay... thank you."
We go outside to his minivan, I take a quick look in the back to check for the implements of axe murdererousness and ask him how much: 6 bucks. I hope in [I meant to write "hop" but I am leaving it like that], we listen to pirate reggae radio, he drives straight to [street] and reads the numbers on the buildings until we find the one I want.
8 comments:
That reminds me of the time that I had to go to my medical in Lyon. I was carless and there was a train strike. So I went outside to wait for the bus to show but all the buses were an hour late and filled to capacity. So about 20 of us are standing, waiting, complaining, and this car pulls up with two guys who ask if anyone wants a ride to town. I look around. The crowd has not responded except for one woman, also leaning forward, also looking around. Our eyes met in one of those "I will if you will" moments and we hop[p]ed in. It was a seamless drive. They dropped me off a block from my appointment. I was early. (So I had a typical french coffee in a typical french cafe. God I miss that!)
Carlessness leads to carelessness, hmm?
Safety in numbers?
Last week a woman asked me if I worried about you and I said "nope, if I started I'd be dead." This story alone would have been enough to kill me.
Mom
Yeah, safety in numbers. If you count me and the driver, that makes... two.
Mom, I know all about stories that end with the spraying of the luminol. I must know what I am doing.
It's true, Marianne's mom. Marianne is well-versed in luminol and the kinds of situations that necessitate its spraying. I consider her having a minor in true crime. Elizabeth
Hey, I taught her everything she knows. I have a major in TC. That's all I watch: True Crime and True Real Estate. Anyway, she could carry the can of luminol around with her (and a black light, of course)and spray it on the seat before she gets in the cab. Anything shows, she takes the bus (for which there isn't enough luminol in the world).
M's Mom
i miss new york stories like this one!
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