“You’re not from around here, are you?” asked the lady
behind the glass.
“How'd you know?” I asked.
“Well… trying to use the subway card for the Metro North TRAIN
was not my first clue, but let’s just stick with that one.”
The glass lady’s wry grin told me she was enjoying my embarrassment
way more than I was. I was indeed out of my element. This was my first day in
New York City ever. And navigating the cavernous Grand Central
Station was a little overwhelming and I had just realized that I stuck out like a zebra in a pride of lions.
I had wondered what was special about this place called
New York City and what of the lore I’d heard over the years was true
and what was not. The first truism was racked up very quickly. I paid to ride a
shuttle from LaGuardia Airport to my hotel in Midtown Manhattan. That ride was
scarier and more thrilling than any roller coaster I have ever ridden. An
Australian family shared the van with me and they were very talkative while we
were waiting to get going. As soon as the driver strapped on his 6 point
harness and slipped on his driving gloves, all chit chat ceased while we each were
compelled to contemplate the great beyond in our own special ways. There do not
appear to be any rules on NYC streets. Nor did there appear to be any personal
space between cars. I never actually felt us scrape another car, but the
essence of yellow taxi paint was all over our shuttle. I kissed the ground when
I was finally dropped off at my hotel. A beat cop jabbed me in the side with his night
stick and told me to get off the ground and go sleep it off before he threw me
into the drunk tank.
My mission in the morning was simple. I just had to get
on the Metro North train and take it to White Plains NY. I honestly didn’t know
there was a difference between the trains and the subways. I bought a subway
ticket on the way in, thinking I was fitting in pretty nicely and feeling quite proud of myself. But none of the
subways went to White Plains so I just started walking with the sea of people, and walking and walking…
I finally came to the massive Grand Central Station where the kind glass lady
sold me an actual train ticket. At first, we were told it was delayed due to
some “police activity”, but after about 15 minutes, I was able to board the
train. The seats in my car faced each other, 3 seats
on each side. There was so little room that only 2 passengers could sit on each side and
our knees had to be aligned beside the person’s knees who sat across from us. Kinda
made us all friends from the start, though it was more of a physical friendship
than anything else. Halfway to my destination, we stopped and were told there
had been an accident and trains were backed up and we had to wait. Soon, we
heard that an earlier train had hit and killed a pedestrian. There had been some light
grumbling about the delays before, but with this news, there was a paradigm
shift that brought with it talk of life and gratitude and respect. It was
pretty cool to feel a sense of memorial to some extent at the word that a
fellow commuter had died.
At my destination, the courthouse in White Plains, the
X-ray guy asked me if I had a camera in by backpack. He told me I had to leave
my camera with them while I completed my visit. I reached past my
webcam-bearing snapshot-capable laptop and almost dropped my phone with built-in
5GB camera and handed the nice man my tourist camera so that I would not be
able to take pictures in the building. When I was ready to leave, I found I had
lost my receipt for my camera but I was able to talk him into believing it was
mine after a few minutes. I then went looking for a bathroom and I heard, “Hey!
You! Where you goin’?” Camera guy was the one asking.
“Looking for a bathroom…”, I told him.
“You’ll have to leave your camera here”
I assured him there was nothing in the bathroom I was
going to take any pictures of, but he was unrelenting.
“You’re not from around here”, he stated, not seeking an
answer.
I rode a shuttle back to the train station – this was in
upstate NY, so much more peaceful than my previous shuttle adventure. The
driver chatted amiably with the young lady passenger and me while we made our
way through the city. When they found I was a greenie to the area, they had
many suggestions of where I should get dinner that night. The girl suggested
going to Soho – I’m guessing this is the Salmon District? Not sure about that
suggestion… extremely nice people, though.
After getting back to the train station and having
mastered the idea that trains and subways were different, I decided to take the
subway for a quick hop, just to say I did. I ran my subway card through the
slot at the turnstile and the display told me I had enough points for 1 premium
foot-long and a cookie. I realized this was the wrong card and got out the
subway card I had purchased in the morning. I tried running it through the slot
and nothing happened. I tried again and again. I felt the pressure of people
waiting behind me, so I gave up and moved out of the way to let them pass. A
kind lady behind me pointed out that the display said to try again. I mumbled something
about trying again later at which point she took my card from my hand. I
started to scream for help, thinking I was being mugged, but before I could get
out a second screech, she slid my card through the slot and the display said I
was A-Ok. She smiled and gave me my card back and smiled, “You’re not from around
here, are you?” I thanked her profusely and joined the throng of humanity.
I am now safely back in my hotel room, relaxing to the
car horns and the occasional siren and the opera music going on in the next
room. One thing I had always heard was that New Yorkers were rude. As I think
back on my day, I have only found kindness and respect. Okay, I think glass
lady was kinda making fun of me, but can you blame her?!
