On Napping in Bryant Park and Parking in Brooklyn

Photo by myself, in Bryant Park.

A shoeless fellow napped while witting on a cafe chair, in Bryant Park. It must have been perfect napping weather.

This photo is from the stash. Bryant Park is the ideal place to nap, under the cover of tall trees. In the background is the carousel, which runs pretty much all year.

-- Yes, I'm back in New York. I arrived very, very late last night.

One of my first tasks was to wake up early this morning to move the car. Oy. Mark traded our Mini Cooper, Clive, in for a car that I can actually drive. That means I must share in the parking duties.

New York conducts street cleaning, which means a zamboni-like thing crawls along the streets with big brushes to move debris, which means that every few days, you must move your car.

In Manhattan, each side of the street gets cleaned twice a week. In Brooklyn, only once a week. So your car cannot be parked along certain sides of the street on certain days, else you get a ticket. Often, people leave their cars on the street and get tickets because it's cheaper than putting the car in the garage.

Before going to LA, I parked the car on a Tuesday side. That meant finding another spot before 8:30 am today. I stumbled out with very little sleep to find a parking space. Dangerous. Excruciating. But I somehow found a spot, and managed to park without damaging anything.

Only on certain holidays or during heavy snowfall, is this practice suspended. I'm sure there were more than a few Seinfeld episodes about parking? I remember either George or Jerry sitting in a car, ranting. That's exactly what it's like.

Related posts: Crossing Broadway, on Wheels, On Wheels, in the Financial District, and On Skateboard Graphics and Subways in Mid-Air.

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Parked in NoHo

Photo by myself on Lafayette and Bond Streets, in Noho.

As in most cities, when space is an issue, the solution is building up. That goes for a parking lot, too.

Happy Friday, everyone!

Related posts: A Bit More on Celebrity, Past and Present, Parked in Park Slope, and The Camera Van in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

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On Twinkly Lights and Parking, in Brooklyn

Photo by myself in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

A view of a typical townhouse, decorated for the holidays.

Like many townhouses, this one in Park Slope has bars on the lower floor windows and trash cans in the front yard.

Many townhouses don't have driveways or parking spaces out front. As a result, there is no space to store things as commonplace as trash cans.

If you own a car and don't want to pay for a garage, you have to find parking on the street. In Manhattan, you often have to move your car to avoid street cleaning twice a week. In Brooklyn, you only have to move your car once a week.

For instance, the north side of a street might be cleaned on Tuesday, while the south side is cleaned on Thursday. This means thinking about when you'll use the car again, before choosing your parking space.

--
By the way, yesterday's 'No Dumping' photo is also posted on The Lo-Down, a site that reports news from the Lower East Side every day.

Click here to see my photo in action.

Related posts: The Low Down on Walk Ups, Hidden Treasure in the Village, and Layers in Time, in the Village.

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On Getting Around the City

Photo by myself around 25th Street and 10th Avenue, in Chelsea.

A view at the entrance to a car wash, on 25th Street, near the West Side Highway.

There are gas stations and car dealerships in Manhattan, too.

--
By the way, the city has announced a bike share program starting in the summer of 2012.

Apparently people sign up with $100 a year. Bike stations will be located all over the place, where you pick up or drop off your ride.

It's a big debate now about whether this is a good idea or a horrible one. Many New Yorkers are very nervous about how congested the sidewalks are already.

For an article in the Gothamist and an assortment of comments, click here.

Related posts: Pedalling Around Columbus Circle, On the West Side Highway and Crossing Broadway, on Wheels.

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Tough Times, on the Sidewalk

Photo by myself, somewhere downtown.

Times are still tough for many here in the city.

An older couple sold cold drinks on the sidewalk.

--
Speaking of money, rates went up recently for regular commuters to and from New York.

For those commuting by train to New York from New Jersey, the monthly train pass went from $54 up to $89 dollars. For drivers, those using pre-paid cards went up by $4 per ride.

If you're a driver using cash, your toll goes up from $8 to a whopping $15, each time you drive to and from the city. Those using cash at the tolls slow down traffic and require humans to be hired to provide change.

Many, many people commute between New Jersey and New York daily.

For more about the toll hikes, click here.

Related posts: Life Goes on, Columbus Circle, Free Food, Washington Square Park and Man and Companion, on the Sidewalk.

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Pedaling around Columbus Circle

Photo by myself at Columbus Circle, at 59th Street and Columbus, in Midtown.

New York is becoming more people-powered, lately.

Bicycle lanes are more common and there are plans for city-sponsored bike rentals. Generally, the vibe here is that driving, except for cabs and deliveries, is not so desirable.

Our Mayor, a very pragmatic businessperson, has been making the City more and more efficient. This is a good thing, I suppose. For people who live or around the city, it's a mixed bag.

Owning a car has always been difficult in the city. You can park on the streets but you need to move your car every other day and risk damage. Those who can afford it rent spaces in a garage. Monthly costs are in the hundreds per month.

In the outer boroughs such as Brooklyn, it's a little easier. If you park on the street, you only need to move your car once a week.

Related posts: Working It, How's About a Ride? and Enjoying a Ride, in Central Park.

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Parked in Park Slope

Photo by myself around 10th Street and 7th Avenue in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

Park Slope, Brooklyn, is known for its historic townhouses.

The townhouses above have rusticated bases in brownstone and roman brick on the parlor floor. Many of townhouses have small front gardens and gas lamps.

Whoever lives in these is doing pretty well to have a nice house and a super-nice car.

Parking on the streets is relatively safe these days. Your car will most likely be there the next day.

Related posts: On Tippy Toe, Union Square, Shall We Dance, 34th Street and Acrobatics Below 34th Street.

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Crossing Broadway, on Wheels

Photo by myself around 8th Street and Broadway, in the Village.

Some folks live on the edge.

Skateboarders and cyclists sharing the city streets with cabs, cars and buses. This fellow crossed busy Broadway this weekend, without a care.

As someone who rides around in a car or cab regularly in the city, I find skateboarding to be very dangerous. Even crossing at the middle of a street is dangerous, because drivers might not see you.

There are a lot of distractions for drivers. It's a wonder there aren't more accidents!

Related posts: On Wheels, in the Financial District, It's a Kid's Life, in Brooklyn and Portrait of a Skateboard Artist, on Prince Street.

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Sunset, Outside Battery Park City

Photo by myself on the West Side Highway, outside Battery Park City.

Here's a photo I took while we were driving on the West Side Highway. The day was ending and we were heading back home to Brooklyn. The buildings to the far right are across the Hudson River, in New Jersey.

Unfortunately all the buildings in Battery Park City were built at once and look very similar to each other. Individually they aren't so interesting and as a group they form an imposing mass of towers.

Perhaps the best part of this area is Battery Park, along the water's edge. The grounds are extremely well kept, and you can walk (or jog or bike or rollerblade) quite a distance, with great views out to New Jersey and the Statue of Liberty.

If you want to have a serious driving experience, take the West Side Highway or FDR Drive along the East River. These are fast, twisty-turny roads, teeming with aggressive drivers and cabbies. Not for the faint of heart!

Related posts: All Abloom, in Battery Park City, Running Along the Edge of Manhattan and On the West Side Highway.

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On Blooming Trees and New York Apps

Photo by myself in Tompkins Square Park, in Alphabet City.

It seems like every tree is fully in bloom right now, a mass of yellow or pink. If you have any allergies at all, be sure to bring kleenex.

--
This week in the Times, there is an article about new apps (application for the iphone) made just for New Yorkers.

Parking spaces are scarce in certain neighborhoods. Park Slope, where Mark and I live, is drastically short on parking space. (As a result, a high percentage of Mini Cooper owners live here).

StreetParkNYC and Roadify allow New York drivers to communicate when they're leaving their precious parking spaces. Meters cost 50 cents per hour and garage parking costs anywhere up to twenty bucks an hour. I'm sure New York will be one of many cities for such applications. I'm sure this will be a default part of navigation devices in the future.

Related posts: Happy Summer, Fall Foliage, in Prospect Park and Tell me about the Rabbits.

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At a Standstill, in Midtown

Photo by myself in Midtown.

What happened here? Is this the scene of an accident? Was anyone hurt?

No. This is an example gridlock. This happens every day. It's a recipe for disaster in a busy city with a street grid.

First, an ambitious car tries to beat a red light. The cars ahead of it slow down and suddenly the sneaky car finds itself caught behind traffic. Then the light changes and pedestrians take their 'right of way', willfully crossing the street.

The sneaky car is stranded. It can't go forward because of the pedestrians. It can't go backwards because of traffic trying to going the other way, if only there weren't this *@#&!^ sneaky car blocking the road. Gah!!!

Horns honk. Ordinarily sane people lose their tempers. Rude hand gestures are made. All the while, a steady stream of pedestrians navigates around the stranded car.

Related posts: A Pedestrian City, Fixing Flats in the Streets and Taxi Drivers Wanted, Brooklyn.

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The Camera Van in Park Slope, Brooklyn

Photo by myself in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

A one-of-a-kind van parked on a busy street drew crowds of onlookers, Saturday afternoon. The 'Camera Van' is a van literally covered with antique cameras, polaroids and video monitors.

There were even viewfinders on the back - those things from a million years ago that were like single-serving slide projectors. You slid disks into the viewfinders that had tiny transparent images on them, then clicked the lever to change the image.



According to the website, some of the cameras on the exterior work. The van has been shown in many festivals around the country, alongside other 'art vehicles' (cars or vans covered with stuff).

A documentary called Automorphosis shows the Camera Van and other art vehicles. The film is being screened at various film festivals this year.



To see and read more about the Camera Van, including its interiors, click here.

Related posts: From the Great White Way, Night View, the Village and Open 24/7, Brooklyn.

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The View from the BQE

Photo by myself from the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, looking toward Manhattan.

I took this photo from the car as we whizzed down the highway from Long Island. The cloud cover is heavy - It's been raining here almost every day for the last three weeks.

You can see the pointy silhouette of the Citicorp building on the right, the Chrysler Building near the middle and the Empire State Building toward the left. Manhattan looks like one gigantic thing.

In the middle distance lies parts of Brooklyn. Greenpoint's warehouses and industrial plant lie in-between our view of Manhattan and the East River.

--
Hope everyone had a great Father's Day weekend.

Happy Monday everyone!

Related posts: From Under the Bridge, From the East Bank and Home Sweet New York.

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Looking Up at Times Square

Photo by myself in Times Square, around 47th Street and Broadway.

It's not uncommon for people to walk around this area of town pointing.

--
Yes, starting a couple weeks ago, a large portion of Times Square has been closed to traffic.

Broadway has been shut down between 42nd and 47th Streets, to create a pedestrian zone. For now, the area has been dubbed Bloomberg Beach by the New York Daily News, after our mayor, who made the change. The area is also littered with lounge chairs.

According to my boyfriend Mark, the change has been for the better. Broadway runs diagonal at this point, and runs into Seventh Avenue. Pedestrians tried to cross the street while cars tried to make their turns. It was an absolute mess that drivers learned to avoid.

I have to wonder, though, whether this city is headed toward becoming completely pedestrian. Only time will tell.

For a video showing the traffic-free zone, click here.

Related posts: Life in the Balance, Uggs in Times Square and From the Great White Way.

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A Pedestrian City

Photo by myself at the subway station at 34th Street, Penn Station.

These gentlemen drew a small crowd with their enthusiastic jazz performance.

--
Saturday Mark and I drove to the city. We planned to do some errands in the East Village, then drive up to Hell's Kitchen for some grub.

We should have taken the subway.

Around 14th Street and 8th Avenue, traffic came to a stop. Gridlock.

Cars were trying to make a turn when the light changed, but cars were already stopped in the middle of the intersection. People were honking and there was no movement for several minutes.

The reason for the hold up? Another one of those street fairs. Several blocks of Eighth Avenue were blocked off for kiosks selling hot dogs, fajitas and hats. Apparently we'd encountered the 'Chelsea Visiting Neighbors Festival', whatever that is.

I'm not vehemently against street fairs. They're a symbol of summer and as a pedestrian, they can be nice. It seems like there are so many of them though, and they all look the same. Traffic is terrible as it is. Why intentionally make things worse?

A quick look at the NYC.gov calendar shows that every Saturday and Sunday, several neighborhoods will be shut down for fairs and parades.

My advice? Walk, don't drive!

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Mission Suspended

Photo by myself in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. There are a number of metal and industrial yards in this neighborhood.

--
Happy President's Day, everyone. It feels great to have a day off.

Yesterday, Mark and I were overly ambitious with our trip to Long Island.

The original plan was to drive up to the 'North Fork' of the island and possibly take the ferry to the 'South Fork'. The island tapers off to the east into a couple jagged fingers. Montauk Point, also known as 'The End' is on located on the South Fork.

I was sold on the concept. Mark said there are a number of sod farms along the North that are visually striking - acres of flat land are covered in sod, with a farmhouse in the background. I was looking forward to taking photos of stunning summer homes and the water on the boat ride.

Alas, just as we got some distance from the city, the sky became completely overcast. The roads were lined with brown grass, brown bushes and brown trees. There was the occasional evergreen, but the overall feeling was 'ick'. So we turned around and drove home.

Mark says that Clive, his Mini Cooper, is the perfect 'touring car', meaning he motors well along scenic, twisty turny roads. Mark is also convinced that since Clive was assembled in England, that he does especially well on twisty turny roads in the rain. Hm.

All I know is that the ride was so comfy, I fell asleep on the way home.


For more on Clive, click here and here.

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The Long Road Home

Photo by myself at 72nd and Broadway, on the Upper West Side.

The intersection of Broadway, Amsterdam and West 72nd Street has a grand European vibe.

--
The other day I did the unthinkable. Let me rephrase: I was not thinking.

I was late to work, so I ran onto the subway without checking the colored circle and letter naming its destination. I found myself on the F instead of the N, which isn't such a tragedy except that it was rather inconvenient.

My solution was to get out at the next stop, climb up the stairs and walk a couple blocks only to climb down the stairs to spend another two bucks for another train. Of course, once I got where I wanted to go, I had to climb up the $@#! stairs again.

There are certain things you wind up doing repeatedly, and sometimes the body keeps doing them without consulting the brain. I wonder if such things happen to those who drive to work? I hope not.

Autopilot is not new to me. I've managed to get on the wrong train several times, winding up in the wrong neighborhood because my body has forgotten that I no longer live on the Upper West Side.

I've wound up going to my old gym, without meaning to. I've trudged through the labyrinthian passages of the Times Square subway station, only to realize minutes later that I missed my train an escalator and two stairways ago. Duh.

I'm reminded of my childhood beliefs - that the radio was piped in from underground, and that cars, driven repeatedly on the same roads, came to know where they were going.

I thought the old white Ford I grew up with knew the twisty turny roads leading home, if only because the turns and dips felt so natural. The car also seemed to pick up speed when we were close to home. I thought if my parents just lifted their hands from the wheel, we'd just keep barreling forward.

Perhaps I was an unwashed white Ford in a past life, or a Mini Cooper in British racing green. In any case, something inanimate without a thought bubble.

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Christmas Greetings from New York

I'm a little sad that it's Christmas. I've gotten attached to the jingles and I'll miss hearing them.

I'm off the LA to visit my parents today. We don't have much planned as usual, which isn't a bad thing. I'm sure I'll do some shopping and picture taking and walking on the beach. It will be a nice, long-delayed trip. Mark is going to Vermont with his car Clive and a couple buddies.

I walked around the West Village yesterday and it was empty. Then this morning, Mark had an errand in the city and drove in and back within 20 minutes. Zero traffic. He and Clive were alone on Second Avenue.

The city is spooky when there's no one in it. For all my kvetching about the crowds, the subway and the bad drivers, I don't like it so much when no one's here.

Will Smith felt the same way in 'I am Legend', at the end of the world. In one scene, he is near Grand Central. He is surrounded by tall buildings, their empty windows darkly empty. There is the distinct sense that he is not alone, and it is spooky.

He's not alone. New York is a character in the movie, as it is in so many films. However, this only works when within the flow of a narrative, when a reality is constructed, and you're making sense of it as an audience member.

In real life, New York isn't so much a character, it has character. The real characters are the shop owners, the hipster douchebags, the homeless, the wealthy, the tourists, the students, the artists, the professionals, the working class. The city only has as much life as the people it shelters.

Without the people, the place is just a bunch of buildings.


Here's a tribute to the season by The Pogues:




Photo by myself in the West Village.

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In the Fast Lane

When Mark rants about how bad New York drivers are, I tell him my theory - either they've never driven here before and are in shock, or they live in the city and don't often drive. Or, they're cab drivers. Mark does not agree with me. He thinks most drivers are stupid or lazy.

I drive once a year, if that. Driving in the city is overwhelming for me. There are too many things to worry about, too many visual distractions. Too many reckless, aggressive drivers that muscle you around and turn without signalling.

Many years ago I rented a car to drive to my parent's house in Boston, when they still lived there. My cat had just passed away and I'd driven home to bury her in the backyard, at the foot of the huge rock where we used to sit together and hang out.

She'd been my first cat, seeing me through high school and college. When I lived in New Jersey for a couple years after graduation, I brought her from the land of big open yards to a thickly settled suburb. Then she and I made the move to New York, and she became an indoor cat. Because of her, I'd never been completely alone in the city. I spent the drive reminiscing about our years together.

On the return drive to New York, I was still dazed. It was sunny out and the traffic was moving well. And then I got to the tollbooths outside the city.

In my delirium, I'd gotten myself into the equivalent to the E-Z pass lane. This was before E-Z passes, the nifty electronic cards that charge your account when scanned by a camera. In those days, there were special tokens you purchased ahead of time. You got into a special lane, deposited the token at the booth in lieu of cash, and moved on.

So here I was at the head of the line, confronted with a basket labelled 'TOKENS' in block letters. I panicked and the flake that I was, dug in my purse for subway tokens. This was the dark ages. People wore clothes and drove cars, but we also used funny coins to get through the subway turnstile.

I was throwing subway tokens into the chute and nothing was happening. The lever arm didn't move. So I started heaving whatever change I had into the basket to get the lever arm to budge. Handfuls of change went in.

The line of restless cars behind me was growing and then I really started to panic. I put the car into reverse, my crazed mind thinking that I might possibly get out of the lane (if everyone cooperated and excused my lack of brain cells). Then I stopped because a toll collector had appeared to see what the trouble was. I should have explained that it was a case of severe mental retardation.

Toll Collector Guy fished out some coins from the basket. 'Subway tokens?' he said, as if confronting an alien life form.

Taking pity on my lack of sound mind and the line of angry cars, Toll Collector Guy worked some magic. The lever arm rose up. I was free to go. Hurrah, hurrah, calamity avoided. Hurrah!!

So I stepped on the gas. The car was still in reverse. To my shock, I backed up, knocking into the motion sensor divider pole. The driver's side mirror crumpled and tore off the car. I braked, shifted, and looked up at Toll Collector Guy. He was standing, hands on hips, watching me. Cars were honking in the background. I could hear the thought bubbles of the drivers, and they were filled with exclamation points and four-letter words.

Good heavens.

I stepped on the gas again and tore ahead, leaving a cloud of honking in my wake. The side view mirror bounced against the car, dangling from its wiry guts.

I drove on, toward the mass of grey-blue buildings. I wanted to be anonymous again, not this moron in the spotlight, at the head of the line. I was speeding, feeling free and hopeful, the rattling of the mirror keeping time.

New York City. You could be anyone and do anything there, if only you put your mind to it. Anything was possible.

And just like that, I was swallowed up by the city, anonymous and home.


Photo by myself on the Brooklyn Bridge, headed out of Manhattan.

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Driving in Super Mario Land

Driving in New York has to be one of the most thrilling and frightening experiences. I liken it to a real life Super Mario game - you dodge potholes and double-parked cars, you defend yourself against aggressive or lazy cab drivers who fail to signal or cut you off. You watch for signs, lights, cyclists, pedestrians, joggers, dogs on leashes and strollers.

Driving in New York is not for anyone with heart or nervous problems, whether you're steering the car or along for the ride. I've been strapping myself into cabs, after hearing that a coworker's cousin had her teeth knocked out in an accident (she'd been thrown into the dividing wall behind the front seat).

Today Mark and I decided to take a new route from my place in Park Slope to his place in Greenpoint, which led to a disaster. We found ourselves headed onto the Brooklyn Bridge back into Manhattan, with no way out.

'Oh no...What?!?! NOOOOO!!!! [Furious chain of expletives].'

Mark was quite unhappy.

We puttered behind cars queued on the bridge, roped around the FDR and through the Lower East Side until we reached the Williamsburg bridge. So, it was Park Slope to Greenpoint via Manhattan. Hm.

The thing about driving in New York is that everyone thinks that they're right. Everyone. The dogs, the drivers, the pedestrians, the cyclists. We nearly hit a guy sauntering down the middle of Delancey today. Mark gave him the horn and the guy turned and gave us the finger. More yelling and gesturing ensued.

I've been on both sides and I know the feeling. On the cold days, standing on the sidewalk while cars whizz by, belting everyone with freezing puddles, you can't help but send hateful vibes their way. How dare they? They're warm in their cars! Can't they see I'm out here freezing my butt off??!

And then behind the wheel with all the lights and distractions, it's the other way around. I want to roll down the window and say 'What are you people doing?! Can't you see it's dark out and you're all wearing black?! Are you trying to get yourselves killed?!'

I have a bunch of driving in New York stories that I'll have to unleash here (aren't you all lucky?). One took place a couple years ago. I'd worked late and cabbed it to Mark's place, after picking up a (delicious) pizza from Lombardi's.

'Greenpoint. Take the Williamsburg Bridge to McGuinness.'

It was late, and I was tired. I was zoning out but realized on the BQE that the driver was going exceptionally fast. I've been in many reckless cabs but the ride felt especially reckless. When we swerved to make the McGuinness exit, I had a premonition. I saw an impact on the passenger's side and glass shattering. Somehow I just knew there'd be an accident.

The cab raced down McGuinness Boulevard, a dangerously fast, six-lane road with a concrete median. The lights seemed strangely bright that night. I was strapped in, but I was nervous, and gripped the seatbelt with both hands.

'Take a left at the Hess station,' I said.

And he did. Only the cab driver anticipated the oncoming traffic across the median and anticipated wrongly.

KABLAM!!

The oncoming car crashed right into the cab in mid-turn, on the passenger's side. There was no shattering of glass, but it was serious a hit.

'Are you trying to kill people?!' I yelled. 'You're a reckless driver!'

And by sheer reflex, I paid him the fare with a tip. (Oh, how it pains me to admit this. How I wish I'd walked away righteously without paying!)

Both drivers had pulled over to wait for the police. The other driver had come over to yell at the cabbie, and I decided not to stick around. I walked the mile or so to Mark's place carrying the pizza, in a complete daze.


Photo by myself, on the Upper West Side.

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