Airing My Dirty Laundry

Overheard: It Doesn't Pay. . .

. . . to be a Good Samaritan.

I heard this on the subway home from my rehearsal two nights ago and it's been bothering me ever since.  I just can't get it out of my mind.

I didn't hear the story from the beginning, because the man telling it was in the middle of the story when he boarded the train at 103rd Street.  I get off the train at 110th Street, which is the next stop on the 1 Train.  Perhaps I did hear the whole story, I'm just not sure, though.

The story, where I came in, was that he and his friend were sitting on a bench by the river.  I don't know which river -- whether it was the Hudson, the East River, or a river somewhere else.  He and his friend were sitting by this river that he described as a flat landing with no fence at the water's edge, so it would be easy to jump or fall in.  While they sat there, a man approached them swinging a belt over his head, looking directly at them.  The man telling the story said he looked at the guy and said something along the lines of "Hey, we don't want any trouble.  We're just sitting her minding our own business."  The man continued to swing the belt so the two got up and moved to another bench and the belt swinger didn't follow.

Instead, the belt swinger dropped his belt and jumped into the water and swam out very far.  A few minutes later, he was screaming for help.  They realized he was drowning, but because of his odd behavior before they were wary of jumping in after him.

Instead of jumping in, they called 911.  The police came and the Coast Guard came and fished the man out of the water.  The police officers told them men they were lucky they didn't jump in after him, because the man was crazy and had already drowned two people who jumped in to help him on previous occasions!

Has anyone heard of this?  I'm wondering if it's another Urban Legend and, if not, WHY IS THIS MAN NOT INCARCERATED??

I really had difficulty sleeping after hearing this story.

Overheard #6, or Laundering with Models

I had put this off far too long.  It had gotten to the point that the sleeves of my shirts were slapping me in the face before putting themselves in the bag.  My Tommy Hilfiger jeans kicked me in the groin.  My 2xist boxer briefs wrapped themselves around my neck and tightened.

So yesterday, I finally got around to it.  This weekend marked the Grand Opening of Broadway Bubbles Laundromat on the west side of Broadway between 107th and 108th Streets.  It was sparkling!  White and blue gleaming tiles from floor to ceiling, brushed stainless steel washers of varying sizes, and dryers to match.  The prices were another story, however.  $2.00 per load!  That's astronomical, in my opinion.  However, since the place was so much nicer and closer than where I've been doing my laundry for the last six months since the Econowash closed, and because it was only 25 cents more per load, and i was tired of the older dryers leaving oil spots on my clothes, which I then would have to Shout at and wash again, I decided to stick with Bubbles to do my laundry today.  All of those things and the fact that I didn't want to have to carry the 30 pound bag for an eight minute walk to "Suds," the other laundromat where I'd been doing my laundry, were good reasons to stay, I thought.

In she walked.  She was easily 6 feet tall, thin, but very well toned and coiffed.  Her long, light brown, auburn-highlighted hair fell lazily down one side of her face, its gentle curls covering one green eye as it crossed.  She moved with a swagger, a slow and easy boom chicka boom chicka boom.  Her Clydesdale walk insisting her heeled boots landed with echoing clicks as they chipped away at the newly-tiled floor.  Her wet, shiny lips parted in a sexy pout as the smoky eyes peered at the foreign objects before her.   "Sound it out," I said.  "Wah-shing ma-sheen.  Now clap it with me as we say it together: Wah-shing mah-sheen.  Very good!"

The Asian attendant arrived and informed Boom Chicka about how the machines only accepted cards, not coins, and that she could obtain a card at the back of the store.  Asian beauty led Boom Chicka back to the card machine and inserted a card to which Boom Chicka would add money.  Next I heard, without any embellishment, "How many quarters do I need to put in for two more dollars?"

She's sooo lucky she's pretty.

Overheard #5

It has been a while since I've had anything to report in the "Overheard" department.  These are all just little tidbits of life in New York City.  They are not tidbits of my life, but snippets of others' lives that I've been present to overhear.

The latest in this treasure trove happened on Sunday evening.  The Crazy Cuban (whom I will affectionately refer to as "Perra") and I went to the movies to see the last two movies we could see before the Oscars that night.  First, we saw the overly long, but enjoyable "Mrs. Henderson Presents" followed by the intensely intriguing, but also overly long (at least to me) "Syriana."

The popcorn we'd had at "Syriana" just didn't cut it, however, and we were famished afterward.  I suggested one of my favorite places on the Upper West Side, The City Grill.  (Try their Espresso Martinis.  Clem and I recommend them highly!) We arrived at our choice establishment and were seated at a cozy little table very closely situated on either side to two other very cozy tables.  For humans of the larger persuasion, as Perra and I are, this can be slightly an uncomfortable experience, especially for that person who needs to squeeze into the seat next to the wall.  That's simply a digression from the point, though.

Shortly after we were seated, the table to my right (Perra's left) paid their check and departed and were immediately replaced by, what by I thought was, an older, married, Jewish couple.  And just to be as un "PC" as possible, I only thought they were Jewish because, on the split-second glance I took at them, they looked Jewish.  So there.  I said it.

It turns out that they weren't married.  I actually believe they were on a date together and a first date at that.  The questions they were asking each other were not questions that people who have known each other for any period of time would ask.  They were "get to know you" questions, but with a twist.  The conversation definitely had a bent toward their certain age group:

Her:  (in that sing-songy, Jewish accent)  "I yoos ta take glucosemene for my arthritis, but my doouhctuh took me oowuf it.  I dun know if it woiked or naht."

Him:  (also in that sing-songy, Jewish accent) "Glucosemene woiked wondahs fah me.  Theyahs nuthin' bettah."

And later, after a lull in the conversation:

Him:  "So? [pause]  What othah medications awuh ya taking?"

Overheard #4

Yesterday, upon leaving the Bikram Yoga NYC studio on 72nd Street after a rough, but very good class, I awaited the 1 Train on the downtown platform.  Over the loudspeaker came one of those very efficient, female, vocally trained sounding voices that we hear quite frequently:  "Ladies and Gentlemen, [short pause]  Due to construction, [short pause] there are changes in subway service. . . ."

Those of us who travel on Mass Transit in NYC are accustomed to hearing these messages.  What we're not accustomed to hearing however, is the maniacal laughter that penetrated the background of the announcement!  It was seriously bizarre laughter that sounded as though some impoverished person had just stumbled upon the mother lode of gold.  Yeah, it either sounded like that or the Wicked Witch of the West immediately after "I'll get you, my pretty!"  It sounded even more bizarre as the sound emanated from the speakers and echoed throughout the platform.

And just to be crystal clear about this:  this was not some crazy person somewhere on the tracks or the platform.  The laughter was coming over the loudspeaker in the background of the announcement.

Overheard 3

I really should be better about posting my "Overheard" stories, because this one happened last week before the transit strike occurred.  Better late than never, I always say.  That's why most of you will get your Christmas presents next month.

As I detailed here, in the week leading up to the strike, our lovely conductors were staging a "slow down" to inconvenience us as much as possible.  This made my normal 25-30 minute commute to work a 45-60 minute commute (more often 60 minutes).  It also made me realize that they were, indeed, worth so much more than they're now receiving.

Twatpuncher and I were heading home from work together, since we work across the street from one another.  We got to the Columbus Circle 1 Train station and found another rock-concert sized crowd awaiting the uptown train's arrival.  We walked to where we thought there would be an easier shot of getting on the next train and waited.  The first train came and we let it pass since it seemed to be one big game of "Twister.  We hoped that the train that followed it wouldn't be too long coming and would have space for us.

It did.  We got on the train and continued our conversation as if we weren't giving piggy-back rides to others who forced their way on the too-crowded train, too.  I was standing by the door with my left foot on red and my right hand on yellow and next to me was a rather large, Hispanic woman and her also rather large son who I'd guess was around eight to ten years old.  At a particularly busy local stop, I stepped off the train to allow the many passengers to depart.  Unfortunately, neither la mujer grande or her hijo porko moved an inch.

A gentleman inside wishing to depart the train said, "Could you step off to let us off?"  Again, neither moved.  A bit louder this time, he repeated his request.  La obesa turned to him and, referring to her hijo blimpo, said, "I know, but there's a baby here!"  To which the gentleman replied, "Push it out!"

Apparently, he was her OB/GYN and she didn't even know it!  Maybe if he'd said it in Spanish, she would have recognized him.

STRIKE A Pose, Day 2 (Overheard 2)

I have model hair again today.  If only I had the makeup to go with it.  naniPod Crane sang to me and put a definite spring in my step for my morning forced exercise.  It took me under an hour today to get to works sans subway.

A friend sent me an email of a "rally" where striking TWU workers were making speeches and this is, according to him, a verbatim recounting of what he heard:

"All we want is to drive the bus with dignity.  The law says it is against the law to strike.  There was a time when the law said we had to ride in the back of the bus and it was against the law to ride in the front.  If we had obeyed the law, we would still be sitting on the back of the bus, and not driving at the front of the bus [with dignity]."

I had no idea that Rosa Parks was a Transit Union Worker!  So, all this time I've been thinking she was standing up for her civil rights only to find out today that she just wanted to drive the bus!  Damn!  My lily-white, Christian upbringing sure is letting me down with all its revisionist history.

I'm walking to work tomorrow with an extra spring in my step, knowing that I'm adding to the legacy that Rosa Parks left behind!  Good times.

Our tax dollars hard at work:

 

Overheard

While walking down Madison Avenue last Thursday to buy a Tuxedo for last Saturday's Gay Gotham Chorus concert, I approached a street corner near my destination.  On this corner stood a pretty 20-something girl dressed in layers against the cold and in a red Santa hat with white trim.  She was handing out flyers advertising a local restaurant's "Pasta Friday."

The corner was fairly vacant with few passersby.  This is very unlike this part of town during midday on a weekday.  I assume the desolate feeling had more to do with the cold temperature than anything else.  She was talking to a man standing nearby as I approached the corner.

"I can't believe I have to stand out in this fucking cold to pass out these fucking stupid ass flyers."  (She spots me approaching in the middle of this next sentence) "And to top it off, I'm wearing this stupid, fucking Santa ha. . . Happy Holidays!"  And she hands me a flyer with a big, fake smile on her face.

You gotta love NYC!