Not a commute, an adventure!!

Note: As of this posting, a few hours ago, the MTA and TWU had come to an agreement. As negotiations have resumed, so shall transit service be restored, bringing the transit strike to an end. While I applaud and welcome the announcement, it makes the post I'd been working on, about my trials and tribulations as a commuter lost in a sea of people, trying to find my way to work and then back home, sort of moot.

Still… it doesn't stop me from posting it anyway.

The New York City Transit Strike has changed the face of commuting. Every morning, it's "Escape the Outer Boroughs", "The Flight Downtown" or "The Long Road Crosstown." In the evening, it's everything in reverse. Put on your Snake eye-patch, grab your misplaced president, it's time to blow this joint.

Day 1
Fortunately for me, my brother drove and I hitched a ride.

It took about 1.5-2 hours door-to-door to get to work. We had a full compliment of four people in the car, albeit, we had to grab them from various corners of Brooklyn. The main thoroughfares of Brooklyn were jammed as cars poured into them from side streets. When we made the bridge, my brother could barely contain his unbridled glee as he sped at 60 mph, me thinks his car's top speed, across it.

Later that evening, the trip out of isle of Manhattan was at a harrowing, 1- 2 miles per hour coming off the Manhattan Bridge as congestion backed us up on Flatbush Avenue. As we got further into Brooklyn, traffic eased and we made better time. Nonetheless, the ride was arduously long.

With me? … good, read on.

Day 2
We didn't have the requisite four people in the car to enter the city. We waited till 11:00AM when the restriction was lifted. All-in-all, an uneventful, long and slow ride.

The ride home was a test of my patience. Kind soul that my brother is (who knew?) had two more people in his car. Their original ride lost a door… to a bus. With evilbuddha makes five, I had to sit with two people in the backseat and they did not know how to share. I spent much of the time on 1.5 butt checks on the seat. My patience waned for my fellow passenger. He was falling asleep and snoring. Top it off, my brother and his co-worker, Zee, were smoking. Bleech. I was trapped in a car with smokers. Opening the windows, in desperation, to prevent the smoke from sticking to me was a wasted effort. I just froze myself.

It took forever and a day to leave the Manhattan. We had to take the Williamsburg Bridge to get the additionals home. Traveling the distance from Houston Street to Delancy Street (probably less than a quarter mile) took 30 minutes and another 15 minutes to reach the bridge. Once on the crossing, it was a breeze.

We had to travel the opposite direction of home to drop off the additionals. They said, the english speaking one anyhow, he said that their stop was right off the highway. However, 15 minutes off the exit, driving through industrial areas with burnt out factories and homes, empty lots, I wondered what 'right off the highway' meant to him. We were deep into Bushwick, definitely not the garden center of New York City.

Once the additionals were dropped off, I… stretched out my legs… and laid my ass completely on a seat. Exquisite. We tore back to the highway, stopping for no one, only to get stuck in traffic again, but blessed traffic heading home.

Still with me? Good. Not far now…

Day 3
Stressed from the previous night's ride, I didn't want to go in my brother's car. Not to mention, he was also driving my mother.

Instead, I opted for the NY Water Taxi at the Brooklyn Army Terminal. The
BF drove his sister and me to the dock. The line was surprisingly quick and we boarded in reasonable time. On the top deck, keeping each other company, we bundled up and sat close for warmth. It was a NY moment, riding on the water and looking out at the factories of Red Hook. Reaching the open water of New York harbor, we marveled at the spans, towering over the East River. Ah. "I love this city," we each exclaimed. I cursed not having my camera.

Docking at Pier 11 on the southern tip of Manhattan, I could have grabbed a cab but you know how I hate them. Instead the BF's sister and I walked through the jagged streets of the financial district. Leaving her at Water and Church, I made my way to the Path Station, the only other means I could find to get uptown.

I hadn't been down by the World Financial Center in a while, no good reason to and no desire. As expected, I felt a pang of grief and nostalgia. On the Path train platform, I could see out to the exposed bathtub, immensely disappointed that so little had been done, in all this time. The numbing cold of the concrete platform, seeping warmth through my feet, kept me from slipping too deeply into despondency.

The Path train was running a train to 33rd Street… uh… via Jersey City. Extreme? Sure, this was extreme commuting: more angst, uncertainty, less time for iPod (with video). The train arrived some 20 minutes later. People poured out, we poured in. I crossed under the Hudson and back. Yup, crossed two rivers to get to work. Getting off at the 9th Street Path stop, I hoofed the rest of the way. Door-to-door was two hours. Yikes. I learned, later, my brother arrived at work an hour before me. C'est la vie.

The day ended with yet another long ass drive home. I had little choice but to rely on my brother unless I wanted to repeat my two state, double river crossing. alas again, evilbuddha made five. Groan. Not so bad, I was in better spirits as the announcement of strike's end was already brightening my mood. And I'd eaten, I'm a bitch when I have low blood sugar.

We gleamed at the sight of a train crossing the Manhattan Bridge.

So goes "Adventures in commuting without mass transit."

I'd tackle it head on again, not too soon though.