Ghetto Movie Theater

Back in the day, when America's air often buzzed with a thousand flying bullets in broad daylight—like that was the sane thing to do with twin concepts like "new" and "people"—we had an attitude of social looseness that constantly imposed upon the needs of others with an impunity that was artificially called "freedom", when, really, it was often a smokescreen for insanity committed in public spaces without fear of censure. Take, for instance, the ghetto movie theater (see also, Times Square in the 70s: http://gothamist.com/2013/03/27/photos_of_times_square_in_the_1970s.php#photo-2). 

Kids dared one another to run into a peepshow theater and back as if we were risking our young lives like western gunslingers of yore, and we were. Yeah, we had the buses of the Port Authority to take us back home, but if you missed the last sane commuter bus leaving the station, it was just you and your friends with hours of time in an almost empty bus depot, trapped with bums who got much scarier, louder, and active with each passing sip from their cheap bottle of wine. 

We were terrified of getting caught in the city's rain, because we knew a trickle of water could rouse a bum if it reached him before the rains stopped, like the time me and my boyfriend watched water fall down in torrents, stuck underneath a Central Park overpass. We only had so much time left before the water woke him up, and then it finally did. He was pissed off until he suddenly noticed us, which sent him flying towards us in a greatly renewed psychotic rage.

Which meant that we were constantly searching for safe places and happy diversions to combat the hellish scenes popping off around us. It was, uh, a little stressful, to put it mildly. People chain-smoked and drank like "The Final Days of Judgment" were being visited upon them any second, and if you believed the signs of the ranting religious zealots who frequented the midtown tourist areas, the end was always near. Ditto with the bald white "Hari Krishnas" (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hare_Krishna_(mantra), who were usually ex-hippie burn-outs from the 60s looking to wind down (or amp up) from their tense neurosis "the natural way", which meant spinning around like a "Whirling Dervish" for hours (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mevlevi_Order), banging tambourines and asking for money from onlookers.

There were also door-knocking, tie-wearing, short-haired Jehovah's Witnesses, robotic over-groomed Mormons who looked like extras from a 1950s-era movie, or "Moonies" (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moonie_%28nickname%29) who would turn aggressive on you in a New York minute, which made the average New Yorker play this weird game of pretending not to notice that bleeding guy sitting next to you on the train, because he might stab you if you tried to help him out. Eye contact was also a serious no-no that kept us from helping out one another, because my dad repeated the same line about it over and over again with "no good deed goes unpunished", as an illustration of that very principle we used to live by. 

And so, our public lives were rife with strangely surreal scenes from horror movies or prescient sci-fi movies like "Escape from New York", that warned of The Second Coming as an apocalypse for the damned. Behavior was at an all-time low, and public life reflected the lesser of two evils that presented itself to us at any time. Sure, smoking a big stinky cigar in a movie was rude, oppressive, and unhealthy for everyone around you, but heck, it was better than rape, right? Right?! People sneaked booze and pot into theaters all the time under their jackets, and gay men used the movie's bathrooms as frequent hook-up spots that became so notorious for city people, we avoided public restrooms like The Plague. Anything could happen to you in there.

Like the worst of the human experience that becomes repetitive over time, we got used to extremely fucked-up people. Not comfortable or complacent, but accustomed to seriously violent offenders who'd snap at the slightest excuse to do so. People shouted back at the movie screen, or hissed their questions loudly to each other, in bad stage whispers that were clearly audible to everyone around them. My mom is so bad with watching movies, that I got used to prepping my friends about her odd behavior, because she loses the thread of the narrative quicker than anyone I've ever met. 

At home it was better, because we could stop the movie for food and drinks, or bathroom runs, or funky relatives with serious impairments, which my parents are not nice about. They're New Yorkers from the Bronx and Bed-Stuy, ya feel me? They aren't "nice" about anything, including their own ignorance that they self-defend like embarrassed kids at the rough local playground for tough kids in leather jackets, with switchblades and greased-back hair, smoking unfiltered cigarettes while snapping their chewing gum loudly. In other words, "assholes" presenting themselves in quick visual shorthand. 

"Who is that?!" my mother would yell out loud, and if you ignored her, she'd just abuse you until you had to give her the answer, which she argued about through her constant sense of befuddlement and misunderstanding, especially if she objected to the highbrow intellectualism that surpassed her grasp of the subject matter, like an offended two year-old after their lollipop is ripped out of their hands. It was histrionic bullshit, but look where they came from. Horror shows.

Years later, after we escaped our own individually tragic fates that working class people like us were often fated to, we could sit back and relax over something as simple as watching a t.v. show or a movie without being molested with uncommon violence for our presence or preferences. And, lo and behold, along came a show that addressed our humble city roots with a fun twist: we were safe now, and we also had homemade hand puppets to help spread the fun around to our friends. We'd say to each other in asides: "Yeah, check out that guy's hat and hairdo! Historically accurate, n'est ce-pas?" Or: "Yo, did you see that karate move?", quickly followed by "Hey, I wonder what he'll do next?" "Oh, I don't know! Let's pretend to be surprised by hammy bad acting and a cliched script!" Ahhh! Look out!! He's right behind you! Nooo!!! Don't go into that scary dark basement! 

Better Safe Than Sorry

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uber_%28company%29

In another highly coincidental sense of "timing" that's my life (we're calling it that today, right?), I planned to write this piece about common sense and excellent grandfatherly advice many weeks ago, one that dovetails nicely with current crimes in your tabloid media, but more on that a bit further in. Suffice to say, my original notes contained references to timeless classics like not having your head up your own ass, which works in any century. Much like the adage "don't take rides from strangers", it fits neatly into any time and any type of human life.

And so it was. I kept my bearings crossing city streets without developing weird tics like saying the street name three times before attempting to do so, which was also nicely contained within the phrase "always watch your back" and I did, so it worked. When our airspace was violated during 9/11, my then-boyfriend and I were already deeply invested in his flight training, which was part of our moving back to New York City. He and I spoke at length about American naïveté regarding travel and airplanes that was echoed around the world. A Yankee ballplayer had infamously flown a small light plane over the gusty East River and right into the side of a building years before the debate about our precious urban air-spaces entered into your mainstream lexicon.

My English-born boyfriend was aghast that a city as famous as New York would even allow anyone like a private pilot within range. It was a huge gap in our collective awareness that wasn't in step with the rest of the world. People from Israel are so accustomed to a strong military presence at airports (like other "hot zones" around the world continually rife with conflict) that they've long considered it an enormous problem for us that had to change. Ditto with England's airspace. In fact, many European-Americans feel comforted by military personnel on duty at popular public spaces, and so do I. 

I fucking love seeing buff dudes in tight outfits with big guns at the Port Authority (sorry, my hetero is showing), especially with their awesome K9 units. Yay! Big "papas" and their highly-trained, bomb-sniffing dogs!! I bet we'd have a lot in common, like dog training and special ops certification programs in the woods! I was immediately cheered on by the gearing up of a big TSA-based presence at our international airports, because it sends a message around the world that we care about our people and their transportation, because we do. It's an accurate reflection of our passion for life that was missing before.

That was the tone of my message before some pyscho-killer chose this week to be an evil fucking scumbag. We had a big, open, media conversation this past summer about Uber in New York City that I thought would quickly trickle down to this rest of the country, but I guess fucking not, so let's go over it again. Don't get into cars with strangers. Period. There's a reason why people need certification, licenses, DOT numbers, and photo ID's to drive people around the city, and this is it. Back in the day, we called sketchy-looking foreign dudes who drive around looking for fares "Gypsy cabs", which meant you had as much luck getting to your destination safely as you had getting advice from shaking a Magic 8 ball. It was "buyer beware" all the way there and back, because once you get into someone's car, they can pretty much take you wherever the fuck they want to, without benefit of a professionally-installed GPS like modern taxis have that marks the 21st century, you dumb fuck.

It is not at all like booking a room on a website that's certified to provide professional B&B service, because a room is not like a car (for obvious reasons), just like an unmarked car is not the same as a professional cab driver, you dick. For the record, AirBnB was created by two RISD-trained intellectuals who care about their business, so that's a big fucking difference right there. Mayor de Blasio said pretty much the same thing: it's not that we want to deprive any individuals the right to earn a living in a very competitive city, it's just that your lack of training is what made some Michigan nut into a killer, see? Do you now see how that works?! Good! Your nutcase is not the same as my kind Grandpapa from Queens with his Medallion-owned yellow cab. Get it? No?

OK, here's more: your ignorant, fucking welfare kook with a borrowed, uninsured car IS NOT THE SAME as a professional limo driver looking to pick up a few fares on his way back to the garage, by picking up a few tourists around Times Square in the middle of our hottest summertime days, with his plush-air-conditioned ride. Do you get it now? Of course you do, you insane fuck. Remember those shitty Chinatown buses from way back that took transplants from the city to Boston "on the cheap" until people died, which is exactly like those crazily over-stacked MegaBuses that advertise "holla for a dolla" rides around Chi-Town will do...until some cheap-ass muthafucka dies from what should be a standard commuter bus route. Pay the fuckin' full fare for a real bus or stay home, you broke-ass idiot. Fuck! I don't want to have this conversation again, feel me? Yes, you do. Now you do.

https://www.everipedia.com/jason-brian-dalton-1732170173668679/

Buses: 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinatown_bus_lines
https://twitter.com/megabuscrashes

Cabs:
http://www.whosdrivingyou.org/rideshare-incidents 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Illegal_taxicab_operation 

Planes:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2006_New_York_City_plane_crash 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prohibited_airspace 

A "How-to" Guide for New York

I've joked about creating a pamphlet for new New Yorkers for years, witness as I've been over the years to a certain amount of crimes that are wholly unnecessary, but I've been told by more than one person that "common sense isn't so common" and I've certainly found that to be true. You'd be amazed how many horribly performing people there truly are in the world, major businesses included. Once I quickly got my bearings in business (because I had to), I spent a lot of time observing the human condition as I went about my day.

You see, unlike the "diva" designer who is only qualified to set type in a layout, I was trained to do just about anything, which naturally opened me up to ridicule among less talented workers, after I graduated to begin my apprenticeship. I was prepped for it at art boot camp, where the first salvo of the day was often delivered by that famous author you read at the library, in front of some extremely wealthy diplomat's kid, so shame and embarrassment over something like hard work became impossible for me to feel in any workflow.

Unlike putting on typical "airs" about being a native New Yorker (another way of "separating the wheat from the chaff" among so many avidly striving out-of-towners seeking fame and fortune in our fair city), I just did the work, like my forefathers who built this city. I didn't talk endlessly about it, because I worked with people who wouldn't have been able to understand or tolerate any of our real history (in lieu of so much posing and phony posturing), so most of the time I listened and spoke only when necessary, which is a great survival strategy for anyone working in a town full of strangers that you already own, they just didn't know it....yet. Today you do!

After so much time spent listening to other people's fantasies about who they want you to think they are, I would slowly drink my pint (that was put to scrutiny too, for not "being fast enough" around certain desperate yenta's from Long Island who needed that second round badly to try and keep pace, or conversely for being "too fast" to a certain type of reticent, slow-witted people out west) and take it in, as part of my ongoing studies about the human condition. I became a sort of covert cultural anthropologist without really knowing it, and in your repetition I became a master of the human arts.

And so, without much further ado, I present to you my fairly glib but actually totally valid list about rules to New York City living, for the slow and the stupid, as well as the rich and insane. You thirsty natives already know what to do, so do it.

#1 - Do not spit on the subway tracks. Chinatown, this means you. We will fine and ticket you for it, plus it's totally disgusting, which is part of the point, I'm sure. Next time we're on Mainland China, I'll be sure to spray Lysol around while ripping off your dumb face masks. Getting a fucking grip! If you don't like us "Gweilo", then go home. Good luck not starving to death in a labor camp. NO SPITTING.

#2 - Do not ride the subway after midnight, especially if you are a woman. If you can't afford the cab fare home, don't go out with your co-workers who may want you drunk and vulnerable on a train ride by yourself. Pickpockets like drunks asleep on the subway, too. 

#3 - Look both ways before crossing our city streets. This is mandatory. You can be run over by a passing car, cab, truck, or biker in a second, and not even know what hit you. Dumb-ass. Stay home!

#4 - Stand against a pile-on while waiting for a train to come into the station to avoid the crazies, like rouge slashers (yes, I follow the local news) and phantom pushers of people onto train tracks. Plus, you'll line up with the car doors, because conductors use them to align the trains. You're welcome. Assholes.

#5 - Yes, there are maps and schedules for subways, but things happen quickly to underground trains that are hundreds and hundreds of years old immediately after leaving Brooklyn Yard. Adjust for it, muthfucka, or just fucking leave. People get sick, trains derail, rains flood low-lying areas (duh, you dick) and shit just simply breaks from all the use. Get a fucking grip, and always leave ahead of time to reach your destination. Dick!

#6 - Expect serious delays and re-routing on the weekends, because that's when we service those trains you take for granted, shit-head. Expect to tack on additional travel time, because you will have to run an obstacle course so severe, people get panic attacks over it. Really. We can't do a lot of rail work during commuting hours, because millions of jobs and lives depend on our labors, so again, just fucking deal. Ass. Stay home!

#7 - Watch your bag and wallet AT ALL TIMES, no matter where you are in the city. Urban areas are rife with crime, just like Rome, London, or Tokyo, you ignorant fucking hick. Keep an eye on your purse!

#8 - This goes without saying, but there is NO SLEEPING ON MASS TRANSIT. Shit pops off quickly in the fastest town on the planet, and I know your khaki-wearing, office-working ass cannot handle it. Just stay out of the way while warriors do their jobs.

#9 - Last, and not least, summertime in the city smells bad. Really fucking bad. Get out of there. We're like Europeans: the city shuts down most operations during the summer, so get out of town and enjoy it. Take a bus or train to the beach or the mountains, but just go. What do you think that bum who reeks of piss and crap smells like, simmering to a near-boil in the heat of summer? Yep, that's what it is like underground. Best to avoid it, if you can.

There you go. Now, get out there and succeed! Just think about my rules as you're crossing over the GWB, looking at the massive skyline, and remember this: we conquered all that first. We built this city.



***UPDATE*** In lieu of this morning's snow (combined with your general lack of ability to STAY HOME and have a nice three-day weekend), I'd like to add to my list of rules regarding weather and other typically human conditions:

1A - If you are not an emergency worker or crisis manager for the City of New York, nor part of our government, or the crux upon which an entire business stands, stay the fuck home. I thought that would be obvious with a Friday morning snowfall, but New Jersey, I saw you dumb fucks clogging the tolls to get onto the GWB this morning and by the looks of your vehicles, you are definitely NOT in the leading minority that runs shit, you broke-ass mutha-sumptins. Next time, stay home or the Governor will seal-off town again. Do you really want that?! No?! THEN STAY HOME. Enjoy a freakin' snow day for once...jeez...

2A - ALWAYS PUT TRASH INTO THE PROPER RECEPTACLES. Believe it or not, New Yorkers are not dirty animals who love your filth, you tourist fuck. I know you think this town is here for you to piss away your money on dumb sidewalk crap, but unlike Las Vegas, we do not like seeing topless hookers in Times Square on a weekday afternoon with children rolled around in their prams by their well-meaning parents. That is not our culture. Keep your coked-up hooker shit in Nevada where it belongs! It's legal to die there from an overdose of cocaine and several highly toxic human diseases. Here, we take the time to throw away our garbage into the many, many obvious trash cans that are all around town, along with those pretty flowerpots you see in Spring that are maintained by city workers. We care about our home. We care a lot.

3A - RECYCLE. RECYCLE. RECYCLE. It's the law, and it is mandatory. It's the way to keep our towns relatively vermin-free and our immediate environment clean, with long-term health benefits to every single living thing on this planet. You do not have a choice because (and this is key), recycling is mandatory in New York. Violate our "green-clean" ethos and we will fine the fuck out of you, chasing you all the way back to your much cheaper po-dunk town, because here we don't have time to work through your mental static when a good hard hit to the wallet is much more effective. Get it? Good!

Y

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/YMCA

Lately I've been seeing stories about the "homeless problem in New York City" which (once again) suggests we are immoral, unfeeling, uncaring moneygrubbers with no thoughts or empathy for the chronically ill of our society. Nothing could be further from the truth. Unlike the "lily-white" self-entitlement of sequestered elite populations around the globe that are part of any sharply divided society, we live a rather open communal life that is jarringly American in its familiarity and democracy. 

Whereas well-monied royalty overseas can traverse their entire lives without ever touching any really gritty urban pavement, softly moving from their cushy chauffeured-driven limos to their thickly carpeted pied-à-terre, New Yorkers have no real understanding about this type of divide that separates people, because each and every native New Yorker (no matter how rich or how poor) uses mass transit almost every single day of some kind, so much so, that its heavy usage is problematic for many daily commuters. It's that well-integrated and designed for our type of mobile lifestyles. In fact, I can't imagine never having the kind of upclose-and-personal experience that typifies that rather humorous mash-ups that define the New York City commute. 

It's both funny and painful at the same time. Ever had a newly-arrived Eastern European emigre with brightly dyed white/yellow hair, thick dark black brows and unshaven armpits put it right there in your dainty face unwashed in the middle of the hottest summer ever, as she reaches up for an arm-grab to the bar above the seats that steadies us during our bucking ride home? No?! Oh, I have. Ever seen a 6'3 drag queen in full-length evening dress covered in bright green spangles and sporting a large red wig with 6" inch red pumps transfer drunkenly between subway stops after midnight? No? I have! Hands up if you've ever had that kind of thing happen to you at least once, New Yorkers...wait for it...there it is: every single hand shot up. 

We don't have these artificial divides that block normal day-to-day interactions between societal strata like other countries do, not that I really wanted to see some esse take a leak into a garbage pail at 8:00 a.m. as I humped it to the Brooklyn courthouse a couple of years back. I think he was wearing an MTA safety vest, too, hence the sense of entitlement about taking a piss in one of his co-workers cans to clean that morning. Fuck. That's rough to see. It's the same thing with our chronic homeless, people. We know they're mentally ill and addicted, yo. That's why they get kicked out of places. Come on, you honestly think we don't know? What kind of dude doesn't wash for weeks on end, preferring to wear a plastic bag as underpants over his winter wear while sleeping outside on a warm subway grate? Do you have any idea what kind of stench that is when he manages to shake it off and walk it downstairs onto a train? 

You know what I mean, New Yorkers. Yeah, baby: it's a trick subway car that seems magically empty during the height of rush hour, because we've all done it. You step onto the car and then it hits you: the lovely smell of throw-up, piss, shit, puke and rotten b.o. that's been heated up in the car and simmered to a nauseous, vomit-inducing perfection. I don't ever want you to think that we don't know about our homegrown problems here, because here's the thing, peeps: any one of those "bums" you see on our streets could be that crazy drunk uncle from your family, or that drug-addicted prostitute of a niece who seems to disappear every few years for another few years, and that's how you know she's back to using, because she's "mysteriously" absent from jolly family gatherings around the holiday Christmas tree. 

You feel me? Of course we know! The Mayor of New York himself has a daughter who suffers from a chronic mental illness and an openly justice-minded wife (http://www.cnn.com/2013/12/24/politics/de-blasio-daughter-depression/). Who better than they to advocate on their own behalf?! These are our families. Why the fuck do you think that each and every single member who joins their local branch of the YMCA pays part of their dues towards housing for the sick and homeless? Because we know, a'ight? We fucking know. Now, pony up for the common cash-kitty. We need lock-downs and mandatory check-ins supervised by the expert people we pay to monitor our sick populace and their coming-and-goings with an access key-card because winter is out there, and we know it. That's why. So fuck you! Whachoo think? We don't take care of our own? Nuh uh, brother. Not on my watch. Now, get to steppin'. I have real work to do.

http://www.newarkymca.org/main/supportive-housing/

https://thrivenyc.cityofnewyork.us/do-you-need-help/ 

Blood for Oil (Fuel-Mad Americans)

http://bzfd.it/1GUWZmk

The one weapon worldwide that warring people always reliably count on against "evil" America is our supposed lust for oil and petroleum products. Speaking as someone who walks downhill daily as part of her commute, I can assure you that there is no such person, at least not how it's portrayed overseas as an excuse for violence and murder.

Americans use transportation regularly because one of our states, that land called "Texas", may be the size of your entire country and then some, which is difficult to envision if you've never been. When I lived and worked briefly in Germany, Arnold Schwarzenegger was a newly-elected Californian governor. The next day, my studio-mates in the atelier tried to use it against me, which was baffling, because I lived in New York City. I tried explaining it to them, but without an illustration like the one you see below, it's almost incomprehensible to a Euro.

The distance from Berkeley to New York City is 2,900 miles—driving time of 42.5-48 hours.

It felt like my time in Denver, when I tried (in vain) to explain to the designers and editors around me how many people we watched die, live on t.v. during the 9/11 attacks, because they also tried to dismiss it immediately. America is so vast, it is a state of mind that's much bigger than other countries on the globe, which makes it unknowable to anyone who hasn't seen it or tried to travel across it. Freedom, like being American, isn't a state or ethnic group; it's a choice.

When I explained to my German co-workers that I would have to fly on a plane (or two, or three, depending on fares and airline hubs) for SIX HOURS just to reach California from New York, I could see an "Aha" moment spreading through the group, which was solidified later on in  my trip when an editor and I blithely mentioned we were driving to Amsterdam for the weekend. They were shocked and scared beyond belief by such a journey as ours (and by beautiful women, too!), until we once again mentioned that we could drive for hours in New York and still remain in our home state. 

To us, driving a mere 2-3 hours to be in another country is so easy and ridiculous a hurdle to accomplish, we cannot imagine NOT doing that regularly. Same thing with the English language: if you had to fly for 10 hours just to get to another country, you'd probably use less languages, too, Euro. Trust me on that. Anyway, English has become the lingua franca for world business and trade, which makes sense to me, because New York City is the capital of the world. 

Writing that is still no excuse for gluttony, just because you may like shiny new things. I love good design and classic American cars as much as the next person, but to pull ourselves out of this mess, we have to buckle down and conserve. This means you! I really liked the German system of limiting car usage and petrol to orderly days of the week divided by neighborhood, like so: on Mon-Weds., these streets conserve fuel and cannot drive, so my co-workers biked as part of their daily commute instead, to a train equipped with bike racks. 

"Petrol" is considered a very expensive luxury in Europe overall, which is the right idea to have, because the cost of using too much gas is a price we can't afford to pay anymore. Think about the melting of the polar ice caps, and you're already there. Same with your air conditioning running at full speed whenever you feel like it, because you're overweight and always overheated. Fuck that! Staten Island has already experienced crippling power outages and it's not even August (the hottest month here), yet.This world needs to go on a diet, and not a Texas-sized one either. We need to change the world.

Say Something

9/11 brought many changes to the New York lifestyle, chief among them being an awareness about security and our vulnerabilities. 
It seems laughable now that we had such open systems, but in the quest for freedom, we sometimes skew towards the lax instead of what is actually reasonable. The first popularization of what has become the country's motto began in the subways of our fair Gotham, with one very powerful slogan that deeply reflects our inherent honesty as a culture, with this sentiment: If you see something, say something. (https://www.dhs.gov/see-something-say-something)

I tried it out for myself one Sunday afternoon, traveling by train from Rockland County through Secaucus Junction in New Jersey, on my way back to Park Slope in Brooklyn, after visiting my mom over the weekend. An average, middle-aged white woman left behind a medium-sized bag on the rack above the seats; something that's typically expected from a city tourist, but not the commuting locals. 

I immediately noticed it, and said something to the very next ticket agent I saw coming down the aisle. The woman in question happened to be an off-the-clock transit worker who left her belongings behind, but that didn't deter me at all from doing the right thing. You shouldn't be swayed by some slight (and temporary) discomfort, either: http://web.mta.info/mta/security/.

We built this society as free people, and it is up to us to maintain it properly. I submit to you as an example that of my upstate people, who relish this current opportunity to partner up with law enforcement, so that we may catch our criminals who escaped (with inside help, of course) from our state prison, as they head(ed) north to another country. It is not our way to leave problem-solving to our neighbors, because we patrol what we love. 

One more to go! Keep up the great work. Be safe, follow the law, respect our officers in times of crisis, and always defer to the trained authorities who work extremely hard to track our society's convicted murderers: http://www.cnn.com/2015/06/26/us/new-york-prison-break/. You're doing a phenomenal job.

 

1-888-NYC-SAFE

Small Town America: Hitchin' a Ride

Bus stop reflection

I love road trips by car, bus, or rail. As a result, I feel comfortable using mass transit way more than your average, car-obsessed American. I like looking out the window at the scenery, or maybe taking a few pictures, or listening to music, or just thinking (or not), which is easy to do when someone else is doing the driving.

Thumbing it for the camera

I grew up in a suburb that is mass transit-challenged, because it serves mainly as a bedroom community for city workers. In the morning and the evenings, hopping on a bus or a train is great because it's quick and easy, but other than those specific times, you have to wait for the slow bus that ambles up to the stop on country time.

On one such day, I took pictures and danced around to pass the time, because in the burning daylight of a noontime bus stop, there ain't much else to do.

  Happy trails to you, today.