Amtrak

This is a long post so you might want to take the day off work...

While I love travelling, I absolutely detest the actual transportation part of it. Once I get to my destination I’m fine, but it’s when my mode of transportation is ready to go--- here is when I go crazy.

1) For starters, I always pack way too much. I’m of the mantra that if global warming is real, then I absolutely need to bring a pair of shorts to Western Massachusetts… in November. But also being superstitious, I flip it using my version of deductive reasoning (tequila) and bring heavy sweaters to Florida… in August. I pack 4 days worth of clothes for a 2 day trip. And each day consists of at least 3 or 4 outfits/themes. Ballgame or opera? Anything could happen.

2) I have the crappiest luggage known to man. I have a tan leather suitcase that my parents have had since the 70s (maybe 60s). I have a hand-me-down large rolly suitcase (the only decent one, but so large it’s only useful for long trips). I have a large rolly duffel, also only good for long trips, but when even partially full just tips itself over like a kid whose training wheels just got taken off. I have a large red duffel bag that has my sister’s name on it. Because it was her karate equipment bag back in 1995. I have 2 or 3 small gym bags one of which I am using on this trip—the one where I just realized that it has a tear in the side and my underwear has been hanging out. And it’s my word-of-the-day underwear. And it’s the Sunday pair. I’ll be home before Sunday so now it’s just pathetic.

3) I also think it’s always a good idea to bring my computer. I’m convinced that I’ll do work, write a novel, or find myself of special importance to someone or some cause where only my computer and expertise on it will work. Only my borrowed Sony Vaio with half-broken keyboard will do this job!!! My computer weighs about 15 pounds and gains weight during my vacations. Funny- so do I.

So despite making the bright decision to travel the day before Thanksgiving (using the skewed logic that everyone else thinks that everyone else is travelling that day and so therefore no one will be travelling that day) I am finally on my way.

Riding the NYC subway is an interesting (read: agonizing) experience no matter the day or time. But to carry luggage at rush hour is the worst. Nearing a holiday makes it no less crowded either. So at 6:30am I head to the subway and continuously get glared at because I’m hobbling down the stairs (no don’t help me) with my too many/too heavy bags (it’s fine thanks), stopping to pick up my dropped newspaper (no really, don’t even offer) and taking up a bit more room than usual. I practically get knocked down by two grown presentable gentleman who are running down the stairs in a sheer panic to get to work on time. Well karma was on my side that morning, my lambs, because they get to the platform and realize the subway hadn’t even arrived yet (and wouldn’t for another 5 minutes).

So getting from the subway to the Amtrak station is a trek – 2 city blocks. Long blocks. Very long blocks. At this point the strap on my gym bag breaks and I’m forced to hold it by the handles. Add to that the bulky computer bag and awkward purse and here I am waddling down 34th street dodging tourists, business people and trying to find my way through the Macys Thanksgiving Day parade barricades. Then I start getting really overheated and my scarf, caught under the strap of my computer bag (with my 20 pound computer) is being pulled and choking me. And then my shoe gets untied. Fantastic. The pants that I refuse to wear a belt with are started to shuffle down and I give everyone a show as I stoop to tie my shoelace.

So I arrive at Penn Station in one piece and am pleasantly surprised that it’s not as crowded as I expected. Huzzah! I think… Well I cheered too soon. It was 7:40 and my train wasn’t until 8:30. That left 50 minutes for a bunch of jerks, snobs, morons, idiots, imbeciles and just plain stupid people to arrive and brighten my day further. And boy did they arrive… and arrive….

People at Amtrak act like they’re in a football offensive line and are ready for the hike (which is the announcement of which track their train is coming on) They stand acting all nonchalant but we all know calmest ones usually turn out to be the craziest. There are no seats to wait in either, so you stand awkwardly with your luggage in the middle of this huge open area, trying to ignore the glares of people walking through who think you’re purposely trying to stand in their way. So after battling the bathroom stall door, breaking the coat-hook with my 25 pound computer, I’m ready to go.

It is 8:10 and the fun really starts now. See the track announcement is made 10-15 minutes before departure so what I usually do is go to the ticket window, find a male ticket agent, bat my eyelashes and get them to tell me the track assignment early. Then I go and mark my territory.. I mean stand there.. until boarding. This usually works. However the line was so long I knew by the time I got to talk to someone, the train would be gone.

So instead I stand and wait. I notice, at one track, a bunch of people congregating… “hmmm” I ponder “maybe someone found out that that’s the track and shared it with their fellow travelers… no.. Impossible!” … I briefly consider going there anyway just in case but ultimately determine that if I did, then this most certainly would turn out to not be my track and I’d look like a douchebag or board the wrong train and end up in Chattanooga….

CURSES! Foiled again. It was the right track. The train was there, letting off passengers from its first trip of the day and some a-hole apparently revealed it was the NY-New Haven shuttle and was heading back up north. Great and it was the track furthest from me….

So that lovely track is now suddenly publicly listed as where we all need to go and then the madness starts. Now I thought that the group there already was the vast majority of my fellow passengers. I was wrong. I was very wrong. Unbeknownst to me, a small nation of morons had formed behind me, all determined to take the same train.

Now you need to think of this in slow motion…. People with rage on their faces, pushing, shoving, face-palming, bringing out baseball bats. All to the tune of O’Fortuna by Orff (look it up). The meekest of old ladies and the nicest looking of young children turn into savages intent on being the first in line so help them. Yes we all have tickets, but Amtrak sells more tickets than seats. Wow who knew.. Capitalism will turn the masses into… well.. masses.. I had young college-aged men in presentable (read:pansy) pea coats just shoving past me. Pregnant women knocking me down with suitcases (hey I would’ve let you go ahead of me… and good thing those maternal instincts are kicking in in the nick of time). Older ladies/business men/young professionals – you name it, they shoved me. I’d have shoved back but one, my scarf was choking me again and two, there were lots of guys with guns there……

Then comes man-kind’s version of a “line” which consists of one person at the top of an escalator and the crowd behind them extends into a kind of triangle shape. Then they announce that the other escalator is open for passengers to board but everyone just stand and looks at eachother, not sure if they should leave this triangle line and go start another one or not. So no one moves—kinda like when they open up a new lane at the supermarket but everyone just thinks “well, I’m already here..”

So we all eventually get down to the platform where people start to panic again. They stand at the bottom of the escalator and go “oh crap, which way do I go??” Then they sort of go left… wait! Now they want to go right… wait! Help…. So I just march towards the far end of the train in whatever direction I damn feel like going. I used the logic that the cars nearest the escalator must naturally fill up first. Not true. Again, everyone else thinks that too so they go to the far ends as well. Cripes….

I enter the train. No seats. Move through 4 cars. No seats. On a separate note- I love the people that put their bags on the seat next to them and then pretend to be asleep/harried/distracted/bury their noses in their laptops or newspapers. That ain’t gonna work. We know your ruse. How? Because we’ve all done it.

Still no seats. Then the geniuses/gifts to society in front of me in the cramped aisle and their steamer trunks now want to turn around and go in the other direction. So trying to squeeze past me results in several people getting conked in the head with my 30 pound computer. Eeps! More glares. I’m on a roll today.
Despite this, after several minutes of just standing there like a douche, I decide I want to turn around and go the other way. Yes there are a trillion people behind me and I don’t want to be a hypocrite and pull off the same move as the steamer trunk gang. But now it’s hot. It’s baking hot. It’s hot, crowded and people are tired and carrying far too heavy and too many bags (it’s actually not just me). They’re anxious, frantic and aggravated (could be just me). This is a ticking time bomb. There is literally a countdown to someone just going batshit (this most definitely will be me).

I curse the sky and the gods , say to hell with it and shuffle/waddle past the people behind me. I arrive to the last car- the dining car. And I get a whole dining bench to myself complete with a big shiny/sticky table upon which to write my tomes upon! Lucky me? Lucky you! Fan-friggin-tastic. I’m totally doing this from now on.

So then later on, on the shuttle from New Haven to Springfield I take the one lone seat left. Next to an older scholarly looking gentleman completely entranced in his scholarly papers. No worries. I go to put my things down. His mouth moves. Nothing comes out. Oops! I’m wearing my headphones. I take them out and ask him to please repeat. His mouth moves.. A very faint noise comes out. I go through several “Pardon me” “once again please” ‘s. At first I’m thinking he said the seat was taken. No. Then I think he’s saying he’s holding it, or someone asked him to hold it. No. Then I realize that he was saying I should ask the guy in front of me to put his seat back forwards because it would be rude to have his chair tilted back. Wait, what? They do this on airplanes and on Amtrak it’s not even close to the same angle. I didn’t even notice and believe me, if there was something there that could piss me off and have me complain, I’d notice it. I just said it wasn’t a big deal and I was fine. And SPEAK UP. Geez.

So I sit, replace my earphones and get out my newspaper. Now scholarly man wants to talk. Fuck.

Keep in mind that everything he says I’ve had to ask him to repeat about 3 times each (at least once where I had to take my head phones out to hear anything and at least twice where he was speaking too damn quietly)—

Him: I sure love this holiday

Me: Yes it’s great (replace my head phones again)

Him: The shuttle sure is convenient

Me: Yep it’s great if you don’t have a car (replace my head phones again) ***DO YOU NOT SEE THAT I’M WEARING HEADPHONES AND READING A PAPER***

Him: Know what the best part about New Haven is?

Me: --just smile meekly—

Him: The train.

Me: Yes, sure is (HEADPHONES!!!)

Him: If you don’t mind, I need to make a phone call

Me: Go crazy.

Him-------- gets on the phone and talks in a normal-volume voice. Ok I’m definitely on candid camera now

Me----- pretend to get on my own phone as he’s finishing his conversation and tell my fake friend on the other line that I’m taking a desperately needed nap. I hang up and close my eyes.

Him: Well you enjoy your nap. *looks slightly bewildered that I don’t want to talk*

Me: Thank you (HEADPHONES and close my eyes again)

We reach Hartford where a lot of people depart. He stands up. Now he has the window seat and you can’t really stand up fully so he kinda just does some Quasimodo hunch. I don’t know why. He’s staring at the back of the train.

He excuses himself to use the rest room, trying to climb over me before I can even move to let him into the aisle. (Thank you but I’ll wait til Xmas when the TSA can feel me up). He returns, says the car behind us is much cooler and he’s warm and he’s going to move. YAY!!!!

Me: Well take care

Him: -----mumble mumble—( I could give a crap)….

So a couple of minutes later I hear a random noise and turn to look behind me. And there I see Mr. Scholar… three rows behind me. Now what the hell is that? If you just want to spread out, utilizing the free seats, just tell me. You’re not going to insult me. And if you’re going to lie, go further back than 3 rows. Wow. I wasn’t lopping into his seat, being obnoxious, smelling, etc so I knew it wasn’t me.

So regardless I enjoy the rest of the 25 minutes in peace and arrive to my destination. Frazzled, but a bit more relaxed. I got to Springfield safely and am so happy to see my family, especially my amazing nephew.

But—I still have to get home on Friday… Stand by…

My economy...

So my boss got fired today.

I come back from lunch and he had his things in the lobby and so I ask “oh a half day for you, huh?”. And he replies “no, they just fired me”. … Awkward. Then I do my whole stupid “ok you take care now!” speech….

What the hell? Ok I work for a non-profit. Turn-over in staffing is bad enough. People are going wherever the higher salary is because in non-profits there’s no such thing as raises, bonuses, cost of living increases or unions. But you don’t want to be firing a head of a department. You don’t want to be firing anyone in my department. You don’t want to be firing the head of MY department which makes ME in charge!

Ok so really, you don’t want me in charge. I’m great at my job. Nix that --I’m good at my job. Revision- I’m adequate and I do my job. (whatever the hell that means) But I am not the beacon of responsibility. My idea of delegating is saying “ Sarah is going to the bar, you deal with this”. My idea of management is saying “I think Sarah should go to the bar and someone else should deal with this”. My idea of teamwork is “drinks on me! (oh wait, I’m broke, I meant you).” My idea of camaraderie in the workplace is “what’s your name again? I think you’re fun…. I love you guys”……

Hell, I’m good/competent at my job but I can barely manage my own life half the time. I lose my keys at least 5 times a week, and always within my own purse. I lose my Metrocard at least once a week. Within my own apartment. I lose my phone at least once a day.. within my own pocket. This is not to say I’m irresponsible, it’s to just showcase how the day-to-day financial workings of an important nonprofit institution should not be put upon my shoulders. Considering my shoulders are most likely slumped over a bar. “Oh cool I found my keys!!’ they’re on the floor….. and so am I.

Anyway, I questioned why my boss (who was very cool) got fired. I got several responses:

1-“ it just wasn’t the right fit for him”. (um he’s been there for 2 years, you think you would have figured that out already…)

2- “we decided to reconfigure the department.” (what department.,,,,, we have a department”? last time I checked whenever anything regarding copiers, tape, computers, feet etc was an issue, it got sent to my friggin office….. and now we’re called the finance department”? and get your feet away from me.)

3- “we’re downsizing” (which brings me to the whole ‘ohshit Sarah is in charge now’…… I embrace this task fully. As I update my resume……)

4- “we’ve hired two new people”. (wait, what? Two new people? To do what? To replace one position? ….. and this then leads me to my next panic attack-----

Shit. I’m next . right?......

Even if I’m not next I’ve got a couple of issues already.

1- now I’ve got to deal with Miss Priss. (who’s actually a dude) Great. His idea of making a decision is saying “I’ll get back to you on that right away” and then two months later yells at you because you didn’t do anything with the decision he didn’t make. Nice Miss Priss and stop wearing skin tight green jeans on Fridays…. You make me fear and hate leprechauns.. oh wait I did already.. You make me fear and hate anything green. Now trees, leaves, broccoli, limes, and the green flavored Sour Patch Kids give me nightmares.

2- May I ask why, oh, why, on a Friday evening , at 5pm, the Executive Director was in my (ex)boss’s office, shredding documents????? I mean I feel like I’m in that new Wall Street movie with Gordon Geico the Gekko or whatever the hell his name is. (who I’m also afraid of because of the aforementioned green problem) Since we have some new Shangri-La taking over the position, shouldn’t she figure out what needs to be thrown out?

This is a very interesting situation, I gotta say. I mean I shred several things a day in the finance department. But that’s just when I print out stuff to make it look like I’m busy. Then I act annoyed, shred stuff and pretend to file things…. It all distracts from the fact that I’m watching Dancing With the Stars at my desk….. But the Executive Director shredding? Why’d this guy get fired? There is really, I assure you, no way of siphoning funds from a government source to your own bank account when you work for a non-profit. If there were, I would’ve found it already. Trust me. Ma, you already agreed. Dad, don’t read this.

I’m sad. I liked my boss. He tolerated my inane chatter and didn’t mind when I ignored when made fun of me for being a Republican. He never noticed that I stole his rice pudding from the fridge and I conveniently replaced it with sub-par tapioca. Which I now have to eat since he’s gone and if it rots in the fridge my pain-in-the-ass Russian coworker will complain about the “shmell”.

It’s just a weird situation to come back from work and find your boss in the lobby saying goodbye. And I doubt this is the end of it … I say stand by. I really find it interesting that a non-profit would be testing the waters during this time in the economy. Luckily I have a one-up on them so they can’t really fire me right now… (don’t ask) but also ,yes I do my job and I like my job. But all of a sudden when people thought things were getting better—you never know! Even my bartender agrees…. Tips are way down.

Drinks on you.

Subway Religion

I have blue ink on my hands. I’m not sure from what. And it won’t come off. It looks like either I robbed a bank or pulled a fire alarm. Don’t laugh- either is possible. I have a selective memory and wouldn’t put anything past me…

So I’m on the subway today coming home. The New York City subway is full of tons of characters. You get singing hobos, fighting hobos, crazy hobos, “I lost my kids to a fire at the Chuck E Cheese” hobos, the sombrero guys, random hipsters and yes, the religious fanatics.

Religion is great. Really. I don’t care who or what you worship or believe in as long as you’re a good person (read: you don’t irritate me). Subway preachers are something else though. They come in all shapes and sizes but are almost always annoying. Some just talk quickly, will hand you a pamphlet if you want, and move on to the next subway car. The pamphlets bug me though- from whomever is trying to give me one. I hate the pamphlet guys that barricade themselves in front of the subway entrance so you have no choice but to encounter them. If I want one, I will take it. But if you get your hand close to my face, chest, or 5-foot diameter circle around me I’ll rip your arm off and beat you with it. And don’t get me started about the petition-signing guys who want to lecture you about human rights/gay rights/child rights/environmental rights/ etc. I just yell that I’m a Republican and they schreech and run away in sheer terror.

So today there was a preacher lady. She wasn’t quick. She wasn’t really giving a message. And she wasn’t moving on. She was standing in the car, from 42nd street to 179th St-Jamaica (an hour’s ride) just yapping and yapping. She was loud, annoying and despite turning up my mp3 player to the highest level I could (playing Metallica mind you) still hear her incessant lectures. I was tempted to just yell out “oh for the love of God, come on!” but that would probably just propagate her message.

Like I said, go ahead and preach your religion-------- to whomever wants to hear it. Don’t do it around me. Or if you do, make sure I can’t hear you. Or if I can, make sure I have a sharp object to poke you with.

So between Roosevelt Island and Queens we get stuck in the tunnel. Nothing helps one’s peace of mind then sitting in a pitch-black tube 80 feet under ground (and the East River) with no exits and having this large religious lady start spouting out verses from Revelations. I swear it was terrifying. I was this close to just getting on my knees and repenting or sacrificing a chicken or something.

Oh and then she started handing out cards with her Twitter address on it. I don’t understand this Twitter stuff. It’s a blog right? Oh wait no, because you’re supposed to update it in however so many characters at a time, all day, all night. I think if you really want to know what I’m doing, come along with me. You can ride on my back, or follow on a leash if that kinda thing floats your boat. Or a choke chain if you’re a freaky-deak. Hell if I care. Or how about pick up the phone and call me! I won’t answer, because frankly, I don’t even care what I’m doing, so chances are, I don’t care what you’re doing either.

So anyway, we get out of the tunnel (at which she starts quoting the book of Exodus…. Coincidence?) and are almost home. So now it’s the grand finale of her message of how repentance and penitence and sentence and attendance and bioluminescence and sixpence and whatthehellever will save me. I just need to find God. Know what saved me? Getting home without a felony tacked onto my record.

And by the way, I found God already, thanks. And it wasn’t on the subway. It was on the bus.

Brooklyn, revisited

I am in Brooklyn.

Again.

I am in Brooklyn at a job interview.

I am in Brooklyn at a job interview where they (3 ladies) never extended their hands in greeting towards me, nor upon my departure.

I stuck my hand out.

They looked at it.

They looked at me.

Then they looked at each other.

This was, apparently, confusing to them.

So according to this organization, interviews do not consist of proper introductions.

I might as well have given them the finger. Or tried to make out with them. All three of them. At once. And videotaped it. …….. But I digress….

I am in Brooklyn.

No wonder you’re interviewing me for a Human Resources position, because frankly, your’s sucks.

I love the fact that you gave me reference request forms that I have the lovely responsibility of getting to and from each reference. You do realize that I am taking them home and filling them all out myself. I have pens in different colors. And, conveniently, different personalities, so I am not technically lying. We’ll just list Sybill as my last supervisor. Let’s just hope she’s over that last phase she went through…..

I am in Brooklyn.

Again.

And, I decided to have some fun.

While taking a quick stroll after my interview, I yelled. In the middle of the street. In a Hasidic Jewish neighborhood. In Brooklyn. I yelled “Rock out with your cock out!”.

And no one turned around.

I find that quite unsettling. And interesting. And… erotically disturbing.

I am in Brooklyn. Again

While I didn’t get hit with a lego man this time, the ladies who conducted this 5 minute interview surely were more unprofessional than a screaming 2 year old. Seriously, my 2 year old nephew has the capability to shake hands. And fist bump. He’s a badass.

I am in Brooklyn. It cost me $4.50 to get here

And it’s raining.

I am in Brooklyn.

Again.

Fuck.

Brooklyn

I am in Brooklyn.

I am at a job interview in Brooklyn.

I am at a job interview at a school for autism in Brooklyn.

I am at a job interview at a school for autism that I thought was a Buddhist school in Brooklyn.

I am at a job interview at a school for autism that is not a Buddhist school, it is a Jewish school. In Brooklyn

I am at a job interview at a school for autism that this not only Jewish, but Hasidic Jewish.. In Brooklyn.

Now I’m not insulting any one’s religion, ethnicity, beliefs, etc here. Just to make that clear. Chill out, I mean these are good people doing good things and I completely respect that. I don’t want any hate mail now. Christ.

But what a way to conduct an interview….

First of all. Yes, have all the applicants show up at the same damn time. Nothing’s better to boost one’s confidence than to have all your competitors in the same waiting area.

Second, please, do not lead us to a private office or quiet area. Interviews can and should be conducted in a classroom. With kids present.

Third, make sure the children are screaming while the interview is going on

Fourth, make sure that you seat me in a cheap metal chair that will surely destroy my spinal cord.

Fifth, make sure the child is not only screaming, but screaming “red triangle” over and over... During the interview.

Sixth, by no means should you apologize for the noise or lack of privacy in the interview (and on a side note, an apology would excuse the situation because I do realize that space is tight at many non-profits...but the noise? really?? )

Seventh, when the phone rings, by all means answer it. No! No, don’t apologize, it’s fine. (oh wait, you didn’t apologize)

Eighth, in order to be extra professional, make sure to not give me a business card because naturally, I should already have your name and number memorized. From the website. That didn’t list it.

Ninth, when 'red triangle' gets old, make sure the classroom children (who are, by the way, 2 feet from me) just have a good old hearty tantrum.

Tenth, when said tantrum is occurring, be sure to ask me if I have people skills. Ignore when I say that I am not quite yet homicidal. Yet.

Eleventh, ask me what my strengths in the workplace are. But don’t forget that asking this question must be accompanied by tantrum + throwing toys. Nothing shows strength like containing ones composure after getting hit in the foot with a lego man.

Twelfth, again, don’t apologize for the noise or lack of professionalism. It’s totally cool. I understand that being a working woman in today’s modern world means all bets are off when it comes to common courtesy. Why don’t I just belch. You can belch too. We can make it a harmony. Like dueling banjos.

I am in Brooklyn.

I am going home.

It took me over an hour and a half to get here.

Fuck.

I do not dream

I do not dream when you are here
But that is more than I can ask

Because in my dreams, my broken self
Is a long and broken task

But like myself and but myself
I can only have a plea

I can only wish and wish for one
Someone else…
---but me

I can dream that I can die
I can dream that I might live

I can wish for both
And pray for none

And accept what life might give

To a fact that breath will still--
prove what it might find

And to know that I might never know
What is really in my mind

To love that might not find it’s place
And a love that might not give

I can find within myself ;
the only way that I might live

To that I can only find a way
to end my own despair

And in that I can only breathe what breath
could be in the air

I only wish but this.. that love and life can find

Something within what might be, and that with this, maybe could be mine.