The fight went on for a few hours. Alana, Anat, and Marc never tired. They kept attacking. Christy A. and Dan were a bloody mess. Their bodies were bruised everywhere. The area looked like something the board of health would condemn.
Things came to an end. The people hiding in the stores ran out. Many jumped onto the soon-to-be departing Newhouse ferry boat. The maintenance staff stood with their mops and brooms. They had no idea what to do. They knew there was no way they’d be able to clean the place up.
Christy and Dan were sprawled out on concrete. They stared at each other. The two of them just underwent bloody hell. They knew Alanna, Anat, and Marc left. Where they went, they don’t know. The two of them want to keep fighting each other. But they aren’t sure if they have the energy.
The two of them tried to stand up. Both fell. They needed water. They were drunk from all of the wine they took in from Alana’s attack. They could have also used some food. All of the eateries shut down. Plus, the two couldn’t just get up and walk over to one of them.
Tears fell from both of their eyes. They were scared. They knew they’d be attacked again.
Anat, Alanna, and Marc wound up at the Staten Island Mall. At one point, Alana and Marc were mall rats. Those days are over. All the stores they shopped in are gone. But their memories are alive.
I thank those who read, “Thank You, NYC Transit.” I hope you enjoyed and thought of your own NYC Transit or other public transit stories. Every city has them. I have been lucky enough to ride the trains and buses in the following cities: Berlin, London, Madrid, Milan, Moscow, Rome, St. Petersburg, Safed, San Francisco, Tel Aviv, Tiberias and Vienna. I probably I left some cities out. Feel free to add your thoughts to the chat.
Annadale Station – Staten Island Railway
Since we live in modern times, our subway system has a website. It is supposed to tell us what trains have service changes during specific hours. Service changes mean they are not running, skipping stops, or facing significant route changes. For example, trains that normally travel into Brooklyn are not. They are going to Brigadoon. If only.
Downtown R & W Station
I check the website fairly regularly. Is it helpful? Sometimes. Often, the information is inaccurate. You get to your usual station or go to a different one thinking you had proper guidance, only to find out the site was incorrect. That means you either get on the subway where you are and transfer. Or exit the station, walk to another one and pay a new fare.
I once walked to a MetroCard agent and asked him if a certain train was running. The signs on the platform made no sense. Trains the signs said weren’t running stopped in the station. The ones the signs said were running did not.
The agent said that your best bet is to check our website. He continued to say it is never wrong. I said I just did and it was incorrect. He was dumbfounded. Then there are times when only certain train cars will open at a specific station. That is usually only relevant to the Long Island Railroad, Metro North and New Jersey Transit. But not always. You’d think the signs and website would publish this. Not.
I rarely ride public buses. I tried it many years ago from Staten Island to Grand Central Station. I used to get off feeling nauseous not far from Macy’*s and walked the rest of the way.
Anyway, what choice do we have? You really can’t drive into the city. So, we keep riding. See ‘ya on the platform.
Most New Yorkers get around via NYC Transit. Be it our “timely” buses or our ever “timely” and “clean” subways. We should not forget the Staten Island Railway. That’s like a trolley from yesteryear. But hey, today’s subway systems seem to be on that track. What track it is on no one really knows. It is unlikely we will ever know. For the record, I know all the lines. I have friends all over the USA. They often text me when they’re coming to the Big Apple and ask for train advice. I coach them as best as I can. But ‘ya never know.
Annadale Station – Staten Island Railway
Each time you ride, you can probably write a story. You need to take in the salespeople, preachers, drunks, crazies, tourists, and the performers. Today, I will focus on the quality of the service. No need to talk about the cleanliness of the stations, the trains, and the restrooms. That’s for another time.
Downtown R & W Station
Once I was on the R going to Cortlandt Street – World Trade. After City Hall, they just ran the train right to DeKalb Avenue. They didn’t tell us. Eventually it pulled into DeKalb. The tourists asked me what they should do. They were hoping to go to Ground Zero. I said we have to go to the Manhattan-bound platform and hope it goes there. Heck, we were at DeKalb. I should have just said, go to Junior’s, get a delicious burger, and a piece of its award-winning cheesecake.
Menu at Junior’s
Once I was going to see Paul McCartney at Yankee Stadium, I got on the D train. It is supposed to run to the Stadium when there are ballgames and other events, such as concerts. A packed train flew right by the Stadium and, unlike a cutter by Mariano, missed the strike zone. In other words, it didn’t stop. The conductor sheepishly announced that they forgot to program the train to stop at 161st. He told us to get off two stops later and take the Manhattan-bound train to the Stadium.
Yankee Stadium
Another time at the Stadium after a Yankees-Red Sox game, the station was packed beyond belief. The NYPD let everyone know they forgot to add the extra service they usually do during games. They were trying to catch up.
NYPD Boat – I know it is not an image of an officer at the subway station. But NYC Transit would not know the difference
Another day, I wanted to take the Queens-bound R to Queens. It wasn’t running. I figured I’d get an F. I went to the station and paid. They said the F wasn’t running. But they were running the E (a train that the Board of Health should condemn) through that station. But it may not go to the stop I wanted. The F wound up running through. I asked the conductor if that train was going where I needed to go. She said, “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. Get on my train.” I did. It worked.
For a moment, let’s jump the Long Island Railroad (LIRR). A week or so ago, I saw Joe Jackson at the Beacon. I wanted to take the 2 or 3 from 72nd to Times Square to get the E. The E was out of service. I could have walked over to the F. Or take the LIRR at Penn Station. Mind you, due to construction that has been going on for years at the Forest Hills Station, only the first four cars open when it pulls in. When will it be finished? Why ask? You know.
Joe Jackson at the Beacom
I got into what looked like the first car. I asked the conductor if I was in the right car. He said my train is stopping at Forest Hills. I asked again whether this car would open. He didn’t know. He never scanned my ticket. That happens on all the trains that have that payment procedure. I experienced that in Berlin, too. I always buy one. I am not willing to take the risk. But it does feel like I was wasting money. Or not. Honestly needs to count for something.
Then there are the nights that after games or concerts at the Garden several of the subway lines in Penn Station aren’t running and you have to walk to Herald Square or elsewhere. I have had interesting experiences on NJ Transit, PATH – Path to where is what you should ask and Metro North.
Despite all of this, it’s our way to get around and helps make NYC what it is. Keep riding.
Anat headed back to her Upper East penthouse. Alana and Marc jumped into Alana’s Infiniti and drove upstate with Lebanon Hanover, Strawberry Switchblade, and the Sisters of Mercy blasting. They had been listening to some of the newer darkwave but needed to remain faithful to their origins. That’s why they added the Sisters. How could you not?
They got to closed-off areas of Marc’s holy camp. The two of them jumped into the lake. They were proud of themselves. They knew Christy A. and Jay weren’t done. Severely weakened they were. It was only a matter of time before they were taken out and cast away. They got out of the lake and heard ZZ Top pumping on their random mix. Eclectic the two of them are.
Marc’s Lake
Marc built a fire in his favorite spot. Unfortunately, his sleeping quarters were destroyed by a man who called himself a professional. There was nothing professional about him. One day Marc would take him out. That was easy pickings. One or two pomegranates’ tops. But he’d toss in some barley to make it hurt more.
Campfire
Other than their music mix, all was quiet. The two held hands and smiled. Their lips locked. They were happy Marc’s mom was taking care of Sarah and Benjamin David. They hoped they behaved and didn’t use their powers. Marc’s and Alana’s parents had no idea who their kids really were. They wanted to keep it that way. Anat hasn’t spoken to her parents in years and had no care what they knew. She still mourned her grandmother.
Darkness settled in. The only light was the fire and the half-moon. The two were sipping Genny Cream Ale and munching on Freihofer’s chocolate chip cookies. Their mix was still playing. Tunes from the Beatles, Damned, Stranglers, Velvet Underground and more played on. Marc and Alana were in each other’s arms.
All of a sudden, the woods got totally silent. All of the animals that were stirring around were quiet. The fire’s blaze grew. Marc knew what this meant. He heard the herd of buffalo and knew the Woodsman was enroute.
As hard as it was for the two of them, Alana and Marc let go of each other. They had to get ready for a higher calling. They slightly lowered their music. The Woodsman got off the lead buffalo and sat down by the fire. His eyes gazed at the two lovebirds. He opened a beer.
A few sips in, he said, “I know what the two of you and Anat did on Staten Island. I do approve. But be patient.” Alana and Marc smiled. The Woodsman continued, “Jay and Christy A. are down. They will try to get their strength back. Be mindful and careful, and you will complete your work.” He finished his Genny and rode off with his herd.
Let me set the record straight oter than a few goldfish, I have never had a pet. When I was about nine, a stray dog was wandering my block. It was friendly and let me pet it. Sorry, I do not know if it was a boy or girl. So, I will not say, “he sat by me.” The dog did. I wanted to keep it. I was not allowed. I am allergic to cats and horses. Dogs don’t bother me. But maybe other family members are allergic to them.
Frog
Around the same time I wasn’t allowed to keep the dog, I caught a frog at William H. Pouch Scout Camp (Pouch), Staten Island, NY. I went to the camp’s Cub Scout Camp for two summers. I loved it. One afternoon, I caught a frog near Lake Ohrbach. I named it Jumper. I placed my new friend in a small, water-filled cup and held it tightly during my bus ride home. I was so proud when I walked into the house and showed Mom Jumper. She was not happy.
Ohrbach Lake
A block or so away are the Woods of Arden, approximately 200 acres of protected green space. I was told, or more likely ordered, to bring Jumper to the Arden Woods. Following orders, I did. I walked in and set him free. I am still shocked I was allowed to go alone. Alas, I did. I let the frog out of my hands, and it jumped into a stream. I am sure it was confused and happy. Jumper was taken out of its former home at Pouch. It had to get used to a new environment. But it was probably happy it was back in living quarters it understood. I am sure it grasped living in a stream is better than it would have been in my living room.
Arden Woods
After Pouch, I spent two summers at another day camp. Then I made it to Chappegat Hill, Ten Mile River Scout Camps (TMR), Narrowsburg, NY. I couldn’t wait to go. Other than many weekend overnights and a camping trip or two with dad at Otter Lake, East Stroudsburg, PA, my stay here would be my longest time away from home.
I made many new friends. One friend I didn’t expect to make was Oscar. He was our pet skunk. He was white. I am not sure if he was albino white or just white. We called him our albino white skunk. We never got close enough to inspect whether he really was. But we often saw him walking around the side of our camp’s hill. There are many stories about that section. Old folklore has it that one kid is still cleaning the side of the hill. One day after a BBQ, he made a mess of it, and we made him clean it up. We teased him about it for years after. Still do.
White Skunk
Skunks mostly come out at night or around dawn to look for food. I was the camp’s vampire. I was usually up all night. I got to watch him regularly. I was always the first one up. I rarely slept. That hasn’t changed.
Over the last few days, I have been thinking about Jumper and Oscar. I wonder if they are still roaming around their living quarters. I know what the reality probably is. But I still believe that Jumper is jumping around the Woods of Arden.
Sadly, Chappegat was shuttered in 1988. Its host camp, Kunatah, is being sold. I feel bad for Oscar. I am sure he’s still roaming the side of our hill. Sadly, it has grown in. He is probably looking for us.
I know many celebrity-obsessed people. Many want to meet them. I have a friend who regularly sends me info about the signing events athletes do. He’s never gone and never will. He’s dying to meet them and the actors who play superheroes. Toss in the writers and artists that work on the comic books.
Lenny Kaye at City Winery Loft
I have dated women who have their crushes. One told me the first day we met she was in love with Harrison Ford and Paul O’Neill. Nothing better than Han Solo, Indy, and the best right fielder and intense player the Yankees had in many years. No one will replace Paul. I’d take him in RF and the clutch hitting situation over just about anyone. One was in love with Eddie Vedder and Johnny Depp: another Sting and Geddy Lee. The best of them dreamed of Roger Taylor and Simon Le Bon. She was the best dressed, classiest, prettiest, and smartest of all I dated. She could have been the girl on film.
I have my crushes. Those that know me know who they are. Last year, I was at Yankee Stadium for Old-Timers Day, and Jack Curry was walking into the Stadium. He shook hands and snapped pictures with many of us. I referenced some of his books in our brief conversation. He told me he has another coming out. I sent the image to my friend. He was jealous.
Me with Jack Curry
In 2012, as part of the Times Talks, I saw Yoko (Ono), where she discussed the movie “Imagine.” At the end of the event, I went up to the stage and got to hang with her for a few minutes. She’s super nice.
Yoko Ono – 1973
People asked her fairly normal questions, such as what type of music do you think John (Lennon) would have liked these days. She said he would have loved hip hop because he was obsessed with fast-moving wordplay.
About two years ago, Chris Stein released a book about his work in Blondie. I attended. Blondie was one of the first bands I liked, and I remember when my grandmother, a religious woman, took me to TSS in Queens to buy the band’s cassettes. I think I also got music from the Ramones. I have some interesting stories to tell about them. Maybe one day. Or not.
I can still picture this shopping event. I was about six. The cashier was curly-haired, about 17, and wore glasses with a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. He asked what I wanted. She said he wanted Blondie. I got my tape. I wonder what the kid behind the counter thought about a six-year-old with his religious grandmother buying punk? Probably nothing. It was a sale, and he likely wanted to go home, listen to Plant and Page and have a beer.
Deborah (Harry) accompanied Stein at an event held at his alma mater, SVA. The two spoke about their times at CBGBs and the assortment of characters they hung with, including the Ramones, Lou (Reed), Television, Iggy (Pop) and club owner Hilly (Kristal). They opened it up for questions. People asked about Iggy and the scene. Then came the “brainy” question. The person said he was an electrician and asked, “Do you remember maybe in 1975, when the two of you lived in your Bowery loft, and I came to fix an electrical issue and had to look in a closet?” Deborah and Chris just looked at him and said something.
A few weeks ago, I saw Lenny Kaye at City Winery’s Loft. Lenny spoke about Patti (Smith), Joey (Ramone) Lou and Hilly during his time at CBGBs. The Q&A started. Someone asked Lenny if he remembers meeting him and shaking his hand outside a club in 1976. Lenny said something along the lines of I have met so many people.
A week or so before Kaye’s event, Ann Wilson did a Q&A at City Winery. People asked similar questions. I wonder what they think when people ask these questions? Only twice did I ever ask questions.
Ann Wilson at City Winery
I think they were normal. At a CD signing at the former Tower Records on 8th Street, I asked Depeche Mode if they could play songs from a specific album at their upcoming show at the Garden. Martin said, “Maybe.” The songs I wanted were ones they usually don’t perform. About two years ago, they did play them at the Garden. Maybe they had me in mind from 2002. Not.
At the 92Y in the early 2000s after Idina Menzel spoke, I was in line to get her signature on her new CD. This was post “Rent” and before “Frozen.” I asked her what her favorite “Rent” songs were. She mentioned a few that were not hers.
I am sure I will be at more Q&As. I cannot wait to hear the questions.
Alana, Anat, and Marc were hanging out at the Staten Island Ferry Terminal in St. George. Why did they choose to hang there? They loved Staten Island. They felt it was exotic.
SI Ferry
Jay was on the incoming Newhouse boat. Christy A. was across the street from the terminal near Staten Island Borough Hall. She was relatively calm for herself. She had a couple of slices at the nearby pizza place. She quenched her thirst with water.
SI Boro Hall
The boat docked, and the passengers got off. Some walked around to the section for the NYC-bound boats. Several headed to Empire Outlets, the bus stops, or the Staten Island Railway. It was a weekend. So, it was not running express. The fact that it was running at all is a shocker.
Christy was heading towards Empire Outlets. Jay was approaching the Old Navy outlet. His cousin was also approaching it. The good heroes split up. But were in sight of each other.
Pomegranate
All of a sudden, glass was flying everywhere. Pieces of moldy bread were knocking it down. Some missed, and the glass hit people. Alana, Anat and Marc furiously texted each other. They wanted to wait before they jumped in. But didn’t want to see people get hurt.
Raisins
Sadly, a piece of glass hit a little girl in the face. She started bleeding. She screamed. Her mother held her and started pressing herself against her to stop the bleeding. As she squeezed her child tighter, a piece of bread smacked her in the left eye. She fell.
Apple
The three had enough. Anat was standing on top of the roof of the Gap Outlet store. Dried fruit was deflecting the glass and bread. Alana raced out of the front door of the Guess outlet and began flooding the area with wine. From the Hagen Dazs store, pomegranates were flying. One nailed Christy A. in the head. Jay fell in a pool of wine. Christy tripped over a few raisins.
Wine
Apple seeds hit Jay in the eyes. Barley landed in his mouth. Apricots smacked Christy in the eyes. Some wound up in her nose. People were running to get away. Many jumped onto the departing Senator John J. Marchi boat. Pretty soon only the fighters were at Empire Outlets—those who didn’t get away sheltered in the stores. Anat jumped off the roof. As she landed, she kicked Jay in the head with her Timberlands. Marc pounced on Christy and poked her eyes with pomegranates. Alana kept the wine flowing.
To start, my dearly departed grandfather was the master of the incinerator. My grandmother would send him there all day. At one point, he knew to go. However, he was always given the nudge. But he was not a creature of it. When I say creatures of the incinerator, I don’t mean rodents. We all know they spend time there.
What I mean are the people who can’t follow the rules. Same with the laundry room and gym. We are constantly beset with new rules on how to toss out our trash. We, those of us in apartment buildings, have the various trash cans for paper, aluminum, and within the last year or so we got our compost cans. People dwelling in houses have those cans at the top of their driveways and place them at their curbs on the appropriate days.
I am a neat freak. I follow all the trash disposal rules. I often think of grandpa when I take out the trash. What I cannot understand is why people cannot clean out takeout containers before they place them into the receptacles in the incinerator. The other day, I walked in to throw out my newspaper and found an aluminum take-out container loaded with cheese and sauce. This happens regularly. Don’t the creatures who dump this into the recycle bins know this will bring roaches and mice? Is it that hard to rinse it out? I do. My recyclables look like they came off the assembly line and are waiting for pasta or something to be loaded up.
Let’s jump over to the laundry room. In my old apartment complex (Bay Terrace, Staten Island), I was known as laundry boy. In my current building, I either use the laundry room or drop it off at the dry cleaners. Lately, I’ve been doing it myself. I am not the best when it comes to folding. But I live.
I have to stand tall to add the Downy. Sometimes the machines do not work. I usually do laundry when I have the room to myself and have my pick of the washers and dryers. Alas, sometimes people are doing laundry with me. It is okay. I know who they are. There is a very sweet woman who says hello to everyone. Sometimes she has trouble with the machines. Sometimes she stands on top of one of the washers and sings. I am not sure why. But she does. She’s about my height. I always thought she climbed on top to add Downy. I am not sure. But I often walk into a concert. Maybe one day she will perform at the Garden. I hope the stage has a laundry room.
Then there’s the gym. Well before COVID, I had my towel in hand and wiped off each machine pre- and post-use. I now grab the Purell wipes and scrub. There are far too many people who bounce between machines and never clean anything. I am not sure they clean themselves. There’s the man who never washes his hands after using the gym’s bathroom. He never wipes any machine. There’s the couple that works out together. They proudly say during COVID they would not wear masks or give anything an extra wipe down. They sweat all over the machines. It makes no sense.
There are creatures everywhere. I don’t think they are the little creatures the Talking Heads meant when they recorded their landmark album, “Little Creatures.”
Years ago, I was in Durham and on the phone with my dad. I let him know I landed and was at my hotel. Even at my age, I have to let my parents know where I am. Sadly, my dad’s been gone for over a decade. Maybe he knows.
Anyway, I said, “You know I used to sound like John Lennon. Now I sound like Paul McCartney.” He retorted, “You make all the young girls cry.” He didn’t mean I sing like Barry Manilow. He meant my voice would make anyone cry. He’s right.
Sure, I wish I had the voice of Bono, Ian Curtis, David Gahan, Peter Murphy, Robert Smith, or the Moz. Oh, and the two Beatles I mentioned. They were gifted. There are many others in my boat. Far too many. But sadly, some of them think they can sing. I attend many events where we sing by the campfire or as part of our religious services. There was a guy there who used to like to sing and dance. He often said he was shocked that people didn’t recruit him from Lincoln Center to sing at the opera house or in the other theaters.
What do I do? I sing along or use their time up there as the time for a bathroom break. Some of them sing fast. Some drag it out. What should take 3-5 minutes turns into 45 minutes. That’s a lot of time in the bathroom. But it also gives you time to run over to the kitchen and get tea.
But then there are the personalities. The opera star had none. Some of the others are wonderful people. Some retired. Some working. They mean well. They want to sing. I still want to pitch for the Yankees. I blame my mother for never signing with the Bronx Bombers. That’s really a joke. Steinbrenner would have never signed me. Rightfully so. But these days, I might play and be better than whom Hal and Cash have signed.
How do I pick which “concert” I attend? There are places I go where those leading can carry a tune. But they are not friendly. In some cases, they are downright nasty and mean. I used to alternate. I recently decided I’d rather let my ears suffer with poor singing, as opposed to suffering unfriendliness.
Tipping is the standard for good service. Whether it is the server or bartender in a restaurant, the delivery person, super, barber, or a few other folks. I have always been a big tipper. I have a friend who does the same. Some do not believe in tipping.
There are the standard percentages of the bill to give, and thankfully restaurants make suggestions, and you plug it right in when you swipe your phone. But then there are the scams with tipping and other ways places try to unjustly and/or unnecessarily squeeze money out of you.
Last week, I saw Joe Jackson at the Beacon. I went downstairs where the lavatories are. Right outside is now a self-serve beverage bar. You can get beer, soda, water, and some other beverages. They have an employee standing near the fridge. The process is pretty simple: you walk up to it and pull out your beverage(s). You go to the scanner, place it in the middle, and tap your card. The employee is there to help you and check ID if you’re purchasing alcohol.
It is all pretty simple. I grabbed a water bottle, scanned, and swiped. It did ask me to leave a tip. I left nothing. I wish I could have tipped myself. I did see some people click on the tip section on the scanner. I am not sure why. They did exactly what I did. If the employee helped the person scan the item or pull it out of the fridge, you might consider giving a tip. But does this get into the craziness of everyone expecting a tip? Supermarkets and drug stores have tips jars by the registers. Fast food joints do. For decades, this was unheard of. It just seems like another way to squeeze money out of people. Plus, I am sure the vendors know that too many people like to click on everything they see. So, they don’t even think about when they add more money to an already overpriced bottle of water.
Gargiulo’s Restuaurant
Then there are the other ways places try to rip you off. A few days ago, I was at Coney Island. I am a regular there. Nothing beats Gargiulo’s or Nathan’s. We all love a few rides on the Cyclone and Wonder Wheel. All of these places charge more than enough for their food and entertainment.
Nathan’s at Coney Island
I went on Leti’s Treasure, the water ride in Luna Park. On a hot, sticky day, there’s nothing better. You get drenched. Normally, I keep whatever is in my pockets in them and hold my NY Yankees hat. July 12, 2017, it flew off my head while riding the Cyclone rollercoaster. I am sure it is somewhere under the tracks. Who knows what bit into it?
The Hat That Replaced What Flew Off My Head
Back to scamming customers out of money. Lockers are available at some of the rides. The Cyclone does it the right way: you hand it to an employee who places your stuff in cubbies and gives you a bracelet, then you get dropped. At Leti’s and other places, they charge $2 for two hours for the lockers. Truthfully, it is a great idea to have them. It protects stuff you do not want to get wet or fall out. But people, particularly a couple or mom and dad and the kid(s), can easily spend a few hundred at America’s Playground. Why not give people a break and let them have the locker at no charge for two hours? People would probably be thankful and spend more on rides, food and souvenirs.
