Surfacing

As I was coming up from the underbelly of New York City’s subway system, heading for work to earn my daily living, this man was looking for something in the trash. Perhaps that’s how he makes his living.

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Subway Adventure – Hothead (reposted from July 2, 2006)

So, yesterday I was boarding the F train at West 4th Street. I and a few other people waited for the passengers to disembark before we entered the doors of the train. Then out of nowhere this stocky guy wearing a short sleeve tee shirt, shorts, shaved head and tattoos on his neck came barreling through us.

I was carrying two bags. One was a bag with my laptop, among other things; the other had books in it. The laptop bag is a Crumpler messenger bag that I wear so that it is on my back, the other one I had in my hand.

Just as I was about to sit down, this guy who forced his way out of the train at the last minute, started yelling obscenities at me and said “if you do that again, I’m going to kill you!” I looked at him and said, “what are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about”, he shouted. I told him that it wasn’t my fault that he started to leave the train after everyone else did before we got on. He continued to stand in the door, preventing the train doors from closing. Then he decided to stay on the train instead of getting off. He came straight over to me. Here I was in a suit and tie, bags hanging from me and this guy was picking a fight with me.

He took a swing at my face which I stopped by extending my hand out, deflecting his blow. Then he pushed me into the wall with two very hard blows to the chest.

I wasn’t scared but I told him I didn’t want any trouble. “What are you going to do about it?”, “I don’t want to hurt you!”, he said. I said, “Stop hitting me, then.”

Then he said, “you made me miss my stop.” I told him, “you made yourself miss your stop. You were already off the train and you came back on for this.”

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#1. I wasn’t going to back down and look like a wimp.
#2. If I sat down, he could have smashed my head into the wall. I wasn’t going to allow him that opportunity.
#3. I looked him straight in the eyes the whole time, without backing down. I don’t think he knew how to handle that. I believe he could tell that I didn’t want to fight, which is no doubt what he was looking for but I was calm and non reactive.
#4. I shot up a silent prayer to the Lord asking him to get rid of this guy. He answered my prayer.

From the way he acted and spoke, I have a feeling he’s been in jail before.

Many people were looking on, but nobody else got involved. The guy was really intimidating and I could see the fear in some of their eyes.

Finally, he walked to the doors as they were about to open at the next station. At this point I decided to sit down. The doors opened and he got out as he kept glaring at me. Unreal.

It was then that people asked me if I was alright. I told them I was fine. I continued on my ride without another thought about it.

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A Winter’s Tale – reposted from 9/20/2004

Once on a very cold New Year’s Eve, I was invited up to Vermont along with a few of my friends. Stacy’s family owned a Swiss Chalet type of home up there. I decided to ride up with a guy named Mitchell and this girl he was hopelessly pursuing. When we left Queens, NY the temperature was about 2 degrees above zero. I knew that it was going to be colder in Vermont but I went anyway since everyone else was heading there.

I sat in the back seat of Mitchell’s car while he drove. Gayle, the girl sat in the front passenger seat. About an hour into the ride I told Mitchell I was freezing and asked if he would turn up the heat. He said, “what heat”? “The heater doesn’t work.” Oh boy! Not only that, there was a hole in the floorboard right near my feet which made it even worse. All things considered I knew at that point I should have stayed home. If I were equipped with that information beforehand I would have stayed home. I froze for the whole ride and to top it off, when we got to Vermont, we got stuck in the snow on a mountain road. We were stuck there for quite some time until we were rescued by the local Police, who pulled us out with a 4 wheel drive vehicle of some sorts.

By the time we got to the Chalet, I was frozen solid. Stacy had a Jacuzzi there and as soon as I saw it, I jumped in so I could warm up. I stayed in it for about 2 hours. The house was cold too. The temperature outside was about 20 below. Much too cold for me.
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The next morning, Mitchell had to go back to NYC. I went back with him. I knew I would have to suffer the discomfort of no heater but at least I didn’t have to sit next to that hole in the floorboard. I got to ride in the front this time because Gayle (his heart’s desire) stayed up there. The only reason he drove up was to take her. He was always at her beck and call. Everyone but he knew that he wouldn’t succeed in getting her. He tried for a long time until she wound up in the arms of another man.

While everyone else went skiing, Mitch and I went home to NYC. The ride wasn’t as bad as the night before. The temperature warmed up to the 20’s which was much more bearable. When I got back to New York, winter seemed a little better than the night before, yellow snow and all. Needless to say, I’m not looking forward to winter.

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Jones Beach Sunset



Jones Beach Sunset, originally uploaded by tommylane.

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Jones Beach



Jones Beach, originally uploaded by tommylane.

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Earl’s partial personality.

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Token Booth Closed at 23rd Street, Chelsea

I think it’s sad. What do you think?

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True Story: The Missing Tools

My father was a diesel mechanic. He used to keep his tools, which were not inexpensive and were his livelihood, in a large tool box in the trunk of his huge Chrysler. You could usually tell when the tools were in there because the weight of them would make the back end of the car sink lower to the ground.

One day, my father noticed the car wasn’t sinking low to the ground. He opened the trunk to find that the tool box and all of it’s contents were gone.

After he told me, I immediately had a suspect in mind. There was this guy that lived next door who was notorious for his drug use and subsequent thievery. I told my father, “I think it was him, Dad!” He looked surprised that I suspected him but I followed my hunch.

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I related this story to a shop owner friend of mine, this morning. He was watering his plants in front of his shop when I noticed that the planters were chained and locked down. I said, “if you didn’t have those plant boxes chained down, they’d be stolen, wouldn’t they?” He said, “it already happened. They took everything. It cost over $200.00 to replace it!”

For some reason it triggered my memory about the tool box, so I told him the story. He was keeling over with laughter when he heard the tools were back in the trunk. “That guy was stupid,” he said. He sure was! Haha.

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The Big Squeeze (originally posted on September 15, 2005)

Sooooooooooooo, yesterday I was sitting comfortably on the V train commuting to work. My commute is about a half an hour from the time I get on the train. During that time I read the paper for a few minutes and then doze off for a little while until I get to my stop. I don’t get enough sleep during the week and the nap helps. I like to sit on the end where there is a partition that I can lean against. It’s almost everyone’s favorite seat, I think. It is part of a 3 seat bench that has the indentation where your butt is supposed to fit right in. Sitting right next to me was a slender woman and right next to her was an average size man. When the doors opened up at Roosevelt Avenue, the man on the end got up and disembarked the train. The girl who was next to me slid over leaving the seat in the middle empty. As she was sliding over, a woman boarded the train who was no less than 350 lbs. and decided she was going to sit in that empty seat. I was thinking to myself, “oh no, why did that girl have to move over?” because this obese woman could not possibly fit into that small space without causing someone discomfort.

Suddenly, she turned around and positioned herself for her descent. When her rear end became level with the seat, she swiped her body to the left, then to the right and started to inch herself very carefully into that small opening. At first she was sitting on the edge but eventually, within the time frame of a few train stops, her spine was up against the back of the seat. I lost control of my arms as I was being compressed into the partition on my right. The left side of my body was starting to sweat and feel uncomfortable because of the fat that was overlapping onto me. I saw people staring, probably wondering how I felt being all squished up like that. This woman didn’t even say “excuse me”. I tried as hard as I could to bear with the situation but alas I couldn’t take it any longer. It took all of my energy to pull myself up out of that seat. It felt like a vacuum was created behind me as I rose up. When I was finally free I stood in front of her holding onto a rail. She had to know why I got up. She needed two seats. She eventually got them without a single word being uttered. That’s what I call throwing one’s weight around.

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It would have been nicer for her to make a request such as “do you mind if I sit down because in my present condition I can’t stand up comfortably?” Or something to that effect. I’m not angry about it, I just think it’s a funny story.

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