Wednesday, December 21, 2005
By dawn's early light
To fully grasp the extent of my disgust, enclosed is an edited timeline of my bizarre ride to the far side.
4:08 a.m: After slapboxing my alarm clock for the past eight minutes, I finally roll out of bed and march bleary-eyed into the shower when even the inviting scent of Bliss peppermint soap isn't doing much to perk up my senses.
4:56 a.m: Doing bicep reps holding my Solano hair dryer in Hindu goddess poses trying to sufficiently prevent myself from contracting pneumonia simply because my 'fro was out of control and need to be tamed back into a manageable moptop.
5:37 a.m: Running around my basement like a banshee trying to find exactly where I stuffed those oh-so-sexy pair of thermal underwear to layer under my slacks and furry snow boots.
6:11 a.m: Two Ensures are chugged down as liquid nourishment to go, and I bring the old school AM/FM walkman without the tape deck to get my daily fix of hate from Star and Buc while I pounding the pavement.
8:49 a.m: Trying to weed through the advantage takers for a legitimate carpool further downtown on the corner of Underhill & Vanderbilt is as easy as getting a quick response from EMS in an urban neighborhood.
9:32 a.m: Contemplated hitching a ride with an Aviator full of Pace students, but the vibe was just a little too Negrodian for even me. Young Jeezy blasting in the whip before 10? Nah son, you can go ahead...I'll be alright.
10:25 a.m: I make my way over to the Red Cross hot chocolate booth off City Hall to refuel with a freebie before heading down Fulton Street into work.
Bottom line, I woke up two and a half hours earlier than usual only to be trapped in a snail's crawl to travel the normally clocked 25-minute trip. When it was all said and done, my average of just over a half hour from the subway was tripled in a bone chilling atmosphere. At any other time, I'm happier as a bug in a rug since today kicks off the first day of my favorite season. But this monkey wrench in the script fucked the game up beyond oblivion.
At this point I'm beyond frustrated with both the MTA and the TWU. Both sides need to be padlocked into a room until something concrete can come of this. I respect the union's stance, but goddamn... a sista's feet were crying the blues tonight.
The one upside in this whole fiasco? The emergence of Roger Toussaint as the perfect successor to Mike Quill's billy bad ass swagger. He's public enemy no. 1 on many a dartboards in the city, but dammit, when you see a countryman cause a crooked monopoly to get weak in the knees, you gotta respect the gangsta. Mama always said we Trinis don't bite nice...a metropolis had to learn this one the hard way. Bracing for the trifecta coming tomorrow...
- Berry commented at 12/22/2005 09:41:00 AM~
Girl if this keeps up you will have to change the name of the blog...just another girl..........
Hang in there trooper.
- Michael commented at 12/22/2005 10:14:00 AM~
New Yorkers are something serious. Keep warm (and fly) as best you can, Trini!
- TriniPrincess commented at 12/22/2005 12:36:00 PM~
ctfu@the name change...Just Another Girl On... Foot.
You stay up too, Berry...nothing but a good iPod playlist and some hot liquids to keep your sanity.
You know how I do, a little derailment ain't getting in the way of accessorizing. ;o)
- BFKASO commented at 12/22/2005 04:59:00 PM~
Can I tell you my whole damn house is like: Roger You killin dem boy you killin dem!
And pops is a TWU so you know its nuff pride!
But...What you know about walking up to 57 and 2nd to catch the BM1 at around 6:30 and only getting on the one that came at 9:30!
P.S. left my office at 6 got home at 11.
- commented at 12/22/2005 11:36:00 PM~
glad the strike is over! had to travel to nyc to work out of my company's fulton street office once... you new yorkers are just way too gully for the cincinnati kid!
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