Subway Blues

You know your commute is bad when you actually start to miss San Francisco’s poor excuse of a public transportation system. Despite the scattered routes, frequent delays and unseemly riders—most of whom look and SMELL like they just crawled out of a cardboard box seconds before boarding the train or bus—I never had a commute that normally takes half an hour morph into one that takes four hours. Never. Not once in the nine years I lived in SF.

There’s something about the Big Apple and freak accidents that happen right around rush hour. Last month, a freak steam-pipe explosion took place around 5:30 pm, halting all transportation in and out of Grand Central Station. Today, a freak rainstorm essentially wiped out the entire NY public transportation system. Literally every train was out of service, rerouted or massively delayed.

One of the reasons I chose to live in Brooklyn Heights was because of its proximity to all major train lines. To get to the west side, I can take the A, C, 2 or 3. To get to Broadway or 6th Avenue, I can take the R or F. To get to the East Side, I can take the 4 or 5. All my bases are covered, right? Wrong!!! ALL of these lines were out this morning.

I heard about the delays right around 8:15, usually the time that I leave for work. LUCKLY Howard Stern was on vacation so I was watching Good Morning America instead. Otherwise, I might not have heard about the massive delays until I walked to the train. I waited until 9:45, checking the MTA's web site and torturing Dave with my impatience until he was literally ready to throw me out. We walked 20 minutes in the 95 degree heat to a station I’d never been to before. I was dripping sweat by the time I arrived--and I’m famous for not sweating.

I walked down to the train station only to be greeted by the largest swarming mass of humanity I’ve seen in recent memory. It seemed that every single person in Brooklyn decided to come en masse to this particular station. It's usually oppressive underground at this time of year, but today steam was literally rising off of people’s heads.

Several trains went by and I was unable to board because they were packed to capacity. Finally, after pushing my way onto an N train, I was on my way. The train stopped running at 42nd Street, for no apparent reason, so I had to get out and wait another 15 minutes for an R train making local stops. By the time I got to work, it was almost noon. Sigh.

All of this happened after I saw pictures of my dear friend MJ’s beautiful new home, somewhere in Marin County. The house and the adorable tykes—Finn and Pip—look beautiful, idyllic, hippyish, and old-fashioned, like they’ve traveled to the future from some distant, more peace-loving time. Anyway, it made me miss the laid-back lifestyle of San Fran. Life in NYC can be exhilirating, but man, it freaking blows sometimes.