One of my favorite things about living in NYC is the subway, that is, until something goes wrong—today, something went wrong. Last night it rained like no tomorrow, which meant that when tomorrow finally came, most of the subway lines were down.
Good news: the subway line we take into the city was still working. Bad news: everybody in NYC was now using our subway line, and NYC has a lot of people.
So Heather spent the day getting her infernal baptism to the New York mass transit system and I spent the day doing my best to help Heather get around and get to where she needed to go without shooting someone. For the record, she did great.
But for me at least, the real fun happened on my train ride home. By the end of the workday most of the subways were working again, but many of New York’s citizens were unaware of that and so they were still using our line.
It gets worse; tonight the Mets are in town and our line takes you right to Shea Stadium, great for going to games, sucks for going home. So yeah, it was crowded—Tokyo crowded—the kind of crowded that means there’s not even enough room to read your new book that your new wife bought you.
It gets worse; it’s about 96 degrees outside right now, about 106 in the subway, and with what feels like about the same humidity level.
It gets worse; about halfway through the train ride home the Manhattan Mudslide of diarrhea hit me like a ton of bricks. When it rains it pours, and when it pours, it pours buckets in Manhattan.
It gets better; I made it off the subway with all my stuff, I made it home without any, uh, accidents, and my new beautiful wife was waiting for me in our new beautiful apartment with our beautiful indoor plumbing.
New York City’s tough, no doubt about that, but for now at least there’s no place I’d rather be. You have to see the positive side of life here, no matter how hard life gets, and hey, if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere, right?