Pedestrian Tales

Fifth Avenue at 18th: The Jerk

2009-03-04T12:35:00.001-08:00

Observations of the office cats Mies and Marcel...

Scene opens on casual and sunny office environement.
A cardboard box under the shadow of a desk is seen at stage left. A steel door to the hall is partially ajar at the rear center stage. A bank of windows with sun streaming in is at stage right. Center stage is open with a large square of sunlight brightly illuminating the office.

Mies is a bundle of fur sleeping in the small cardboard box under the desk. The box is barely able to contain his girth. It is obvious Mies had been there for hours and is quite comfortable.

Marcel enters through the office door and casually circles the office. He soon notices Mies in the box and approaches him with slow but intentional steps. Upon reaching the box, Marcel sits a few inches away and stares at Mies. They stare at each other for about a minute.

Suddenly, Marcel jumps on Mies. The office remains silent even though this animated tussle occurs in the shadows of the desk. Mies relinquishes his position in the box and Marcel gets in the box and bundles up.

Mies walks to center stage to the area of the floor lit by the afternoon sun and sits to absorb the warmth. Scratching sounds are heard in the shadows as Marcel tears away at the box. After a minute of this, the scratching stops and Marcel gets out of the box. With the same slow and intentional steps, he approaches Mies sitting in the sun and sits inches away from him. Mies turns his head to stare at Marcel. The stare continues for about a minute.

Marcel jumps Mies yet again. Mies is annoyed but again relinquishes his position in the sun. Marcel takes his spot sitting in the sunlight. Mies trudges to the office door, his back to the audience and sits staring at the door.

After a minute in the sun, Marcel slowly and intentionally walks up to Mies and sits directly in front of him so that he completely blocks his view of the door and is forced to stare at Marcel's face only inches away. After staring at each other for ten seconds, Mies looks away and gets up. Marcel's eyes remain locked on Mies as he walks out the open office door. Upon Mies' exit, Marcel turns to gaze at the audience.

End scene.

E90 and Lexington: The Boy

2009-03-04T11:52:00.000-08:00

I typically dress down on days I need to be at construction sites. I mean, it's not like I look slovenly but it's my "clean and casual" day.

Anyways, I arranged to meet a friend for lunch at her apartment after visiting one of my construction sites. She was still making her way back to her apartment so I took the time to go to the grocery store and pick up a few small things to supplement our lunch. Laden with a few plastic grocery bags full of food, I walk into the lobby of her building to the man behind the desk to announce myself.

"I'm here to see Jane in apartment 555. She's expecting me."
The man at the front desk looks up, gives me a quick once over and says, "The service entrance is around the corner."

"I'm her friend...She's expecting me," I respond in an annoyed and staccato tone.

The man was apologetic and immediately phoned Jane's apartment. She hadn't arrived yet so he invited me to sit down in the reception area. I was keen on sitting in an area where I could see him directly and where all the residents coming in had a clear view of the casually dressed ethnic guy with the grocery bags who obviously looks like a delivery boy sitting on their plush velvet couch in the lobby.

Downtown F Train: The Lumberjack Knitter

2008-09-19T07:47:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I don't talk, I just observe. My eye gravitates towards things that are unexpected or in contrast to the situation and surroundings.

The F train wasn't full so I was able to get a seat for the two stops I needed to go. Everyone around me was in their standard early fall work garb. All a forgettable blur until I locked onto the lumberjack sitting across from me. Well, he probably wasn't one but he looked exactly like the wild guys I have met in small rural towns during my trips out West. Burly guy, full-beard, jeans, flannel jacket, sitting quietly on the orange seat and lit from above by fluorescent lights. After the initial shock, I started seeing other interesting details. The NY Mets jersey underneath his jacket, the latest trend in atheltic sneakers and...the knitting sack. He was knitting away at what appeared to be a child's sock. Judging by the speed and accuracy of the four needles being worked at the same time, he definitely knew what he was doing.

We all think we know someone just by looking at them. I hate that I do it myself. We can't get away from it. I find myself drawn to activities that no one would expect me to do just so people can't read me in one go. My creed is to foster contrast in myself. That way, I get to appreciate life from multiple points of view.

Prince and Elizabeth: Sedated

2008-07-22T15:03:00.000-07:00

We were doing some window shopping on Prince Street when this large white labrador approached my girlfriend's leg and just started rubbing her face against her. We weren't sure what to make of it. It wasn't threatening but unusual behavior nonetheless. The owner, a tall woman who looked like she just walked off of a fashion shoot, quickly pulled back on the leash. The dog looked up at us in a sort of daze.

"I'm so sorry. My dog just had some minor surgery and she's still sedated."
The dog looked from side to side unable to focus on anything.
"Just a few minutes ago, she took someone's corn on the cob right out of their hand. I'm trying to get her home as fast as I can."

We just laughed and they were both on their way; the dog continuing to immerse herself in this new psychedelic world with her owner apologizing the entire way.

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We've all been drugged up but I'm sure few of us actually remember the experience. Check out this video to see if it sparks up any memories.

28th Street Station - C/E Train: Graffiti Transformed

2008-07-02T07:22:00.000-07:00

New York has cleaned up quite a bit in the past few decades but you still can't walk a few steps without seeing something defaced. I've become pretty blase about it. However, these defaced posters really caught my eye. They are all located next to each other on the same wall. Someone cut out pieces from one and pasted them on the others. A simple idea but in doing so, the original message and meaning is changed and all due to whatever images were immediately at hand. I found it theoretically fascinating.

Art is everywhere. Pay attention!

Downtown A Train - E.B. White Here is New York

2008-06-06T08:32:00.000-07:00

There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something...Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion.

W110 and Broadway - Lobsters

2008-05-27T08:58:00.001-07:00

I was chatting with my fishmonger when I noticed he got a brand new lobster tank. "Nice tank," I said. "If only I can afford the lobsters in them."

"I hate lobsters," he responded.

A few decades back, my fishmonger worked security in Florida. He had the night shift which ended at 5 or 6 in the morning. He worked right on the beach so he kept his scuba gear in his locker. After work, he would change out of his uniform into his scuba gear and walk right into the water. Having done this so many times, he knew the reef like the back of his hand. He went about picking lobsters from their favorite hiding places. He would emerge from the water an hour later with a dozen lobsters in his bag and head home to make breakfast that somehow incorporated lobster in it for his wife followed by lobster for dinner later that evening. The remaining lobsters he gave away. What he couldn't give away, he cooked and froze. This went on for years. Lobster omelets. Lobster salads. Lobster soups. Lobsters steamed, grilled, boiled, baked, roasted, broiled...

"I can't stand the stuff anymore."

W34 and 11th Ave - Vibe

2008-05-25T11:53:00.000-07:00

I was walking through the convention center when I stopped at an exhibitor based in San Francisco. We were talking for awhile about his product when he asked "How long have you been in New York?"
"8 years," I responded. "Is it that obvious that I don't belong?"
"It's not that...you still have that California vibe."
"Cool."

You can take the man out of California but you can't take California out of the man.

W18 between 5th and 6th - The Evil Eye

2008-04-02T12:01:00.001-07:00

I walked up to the counter ready to pay for my ham and egg sandwich. The woman behind the counter was focused on her newspaper. I quickly glanced at the article and notice a picture of Pope Benedict. She looks up at me.

"I don't like the current Pope."
"Oh. OK. I'm not catholic so I don't really know. Did he do something?"
"Just look at his picture. Pope John Paul looked so calm and saintly. Benedict looks like he's hiding something."

She rings up my order. "It's the Evil Eye!" she blurts.
I laugh and walk out the door.

Amsterdam and W78th - Pay Attention!

2008-03-24T14:09:00.000-07:00

My fiance and I were walking in the Upper West Side to go to the GreenFlea Market. We were engrossed in discussing the kitchen island counter material for our new apartment when I noticed in the corner of my eye a woman with red hair coming towards me with her two kids. The person and I both stopped for a split second like you always do in a crowd trying to figure out which way that person is going to walk. Well, we did a little dance and walked around each other. I never bothered to look up and continued my all important conversation about how our kitchen island was to be constructed. A few seconds later, my fiance interrupted me and whispered...

"You know you just almost walked into Cynthia Nixon."
I need to learn to pay attention to my surroundings more.

Uptown 1 Train - Compulsion

2008-02-11T19:20:00.000-08:00

The train was already crowded when it pulled into Times Square and I wasn't quite willing to give up my much coveted seat just yet. Dozens of commuters got on, jostled around and settled down. As the train pulled out of the station, the woman standing in front of me pulls out what I initially thought was an old hard bound dictionary. She props the book open on her hip while leaning against the pole for additional support. She looked quite uncomfortable so I gave her my seat.

When she sat down, I commented on the size of the book she was reading. The book was the complete works of Shakespeare. She explained she was going to watch The Tempest next week and decided to re-read it again. This was the only copy she had in her collection. I asked her if she had much more to read. "Oh, I finished that the other day. Now I'm reading the rest of his work before I watch the play."

She packed the massive book away as we pulled into Lincoln Center station. She offered me my seat back and hauled the book off the train.

5th Ave at 18th - Frequent Fliers

2007-12-07T12:36:00.001-08:00

A new ad agency from Texas recently opened upstairs. Since then, I've noticed a huge increase of dogs in the building. One day, as I was heading out to lunch, I shared the elevator with two executives and their two dogs. I joked if there was a dog park upstairs. Turns out, when the ad agency was starting up, the president loved having his dogs nearby and encouraged his employees to bring their pets to work. The company took off and this perk was expanded accordingly with the company flying the dogs out with their employees and arranging for them to stay with their owners wherever they go.

The two executives and their dogs flew in from Houston a few days ago. This weekend, they will all be flying to the newly opened San Francisco office.

The London office opens in a few months.

W26 and West Side Highway - The Dockworkers (Part 2)

2007-11-26T08:48:00.000-08:00

Three workers climb down to the river level ten feet below onto a raft tied to the dock. This "raft" was really a single plank of old growth wood maybe 3 feet wide, 12 feet long and 9 inches thick. It had to be at least 50 years old and, just like the workers themselves, had taken a beating from the elements and dangers of working between this threshold of land and water. It still serves its purpose flawlessly despite being deeply scarred and worn.

The three workers walk randomly up and down the raft to inspect the steel brackets they had installed the day before. Each dockworker's step causes the raft and his coworkers to bounce precariously up and down though each continues their inspection as if they were on solid ground, a skill undoubtedly gained through decades of experience. "Everyone falls in at some point," the foreman said. "It sucks." The orange life vests do serve a purpose.

"How's it look?" the foreman yells down. A voice emanating from somewhere under the dock replies, "This will last a hundred years." The foreman orders everyone back on the dock and radios the crane operator to prepare the bridge for installation. The crane's engine roars to life and the damp river air is infused with the industrial musk of exhaust, oil and metal.

Within a few minutes, the ton of steel that is our bridge hovers above the gap between us and our boats. It starts to pour rain. The bridge amplifies the sound of drops hitting its metal structure seemingly announcing to all of us that it will soon come to be.

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The time is 6:45AM. The City continues to glow in an orange mist. The bridge is in place softly clanging as it rises and falls in rhythm with the waves of the river. The floodlights are off and the boathouse is once again shrouded in darkness. The men are back on the barge quietly preparing to undock. The distant sounds of trailer trucks downshifting along the West Side Highway start to increase as the land dwellers wake with the rising sun.

Bleecker and Lafayette - The Fortune Cookie

2007-11-18T12:43:00.000-08:00

In order to capture a city, first capture the heart of the people.
Lucky Numbers: 2, 21, 30, 33, 40, 50

W26 and West Side Highway - The Dockworkers (Part 1)

2007-10-25T12:59:00.000-07:00

It's ten minutes before six in the morning and I head to the Pier 66 Boathouse as I do every Tuesday and Thursday to go rowing with my crew. They say the City never sleeps. In fact, it takes a much deserved nap between 4 and 5:30 in the morning. The streetlights are reflecting off the wet streets intensifying the orange glow of artificially lit asphalt.

I enter the dark boathouse and am startled by one of my teammates. She looks distressed which is a sharp contrast to her usual upbeat demeanor. "We have a problem," she says. We walk to the end of the boathouse and open the roll-up door that leads to the dock and our boats. The darkness of the boathouse quickly fills with a blinding light as the door cranks opens. As my eyes adjust to the brightness, I see our boats sitting on the floating dock in their usual position but the 20 foot bridge leading to it is nowhere to be seen.

My eyes gravitate towards the source of the blinding light. Several flood lamps are pointed in my direction from a floating barge next to the dock. Above this barge was our bridge, a few thousand pounds of steel softly swaying in the breeze suspended 30 feet up from the boom of a crane.

One by one, grizzled men in flannel shirts and bright orange life jackets emerge from the end of the barge. We explain to them our predicament and they are very accommodating, promising us they would have the bridge in place in a half hour. We decide to stand back and settle in for the show.

...to be continued...

E86 and York - My Client's Maid

2007-10-10T09:47:00.001-07:00

"The best lobster is in Rhode Island," according to the Maid. When the elderly woman before me craves them, she hops in her car and drives the distance for a fresh catch of Rhode Island lobster perfectly steamed. Then she drives back to the City.

Her eyes widen behind her wire frame glasses as I reveal that I am an avid outdoorsman. "You have to go to Maine!" she blurts out. "I take day trips to Maine every month." As she fills me in on all of the hiking trails and vista points of Acadia National Park, I was fascinated by the vision of this compact bundle of energy (she is barely 5 feet tall) driving several hours away to hike in Maine and then return to New York.

"I can't drive as far as I used to anymore," she said with a slight hint of disappointment. "The most I do these days is the 8 hour drive to Ohio to visit my friends for the weekend." I suddenly realize her trips were never really about the destination. Her fulfillment in life came from the journey itself.

I compliment her on her ability to endure the endless asphalt of the American highway and begin my four avenue trek to the 4/5/6 train.

Broadway and E8 - Hantavirus Man

2007-10-09T20:30:00.001-07:00

I was at a bookstore gathering my typical stack of outdoor magazines, Adventure, Backpacker and the like. I sat down just as an older man in his 70's was slowly getting up from the table next to me. He happened to glance over and notice my stack of wilderness magazines.

"Do you camp?" the man said abruptly.
I acknowledged that I did.
"Got a pen?"

I reached into my bag, pulled out my pen and handed it to him. He picked up an insert a previous occupant left on my table. (Apparently, I can get 79% off of Cosmopolitan magazine if I reply by 11/01/07). "Look this up when you get home," the man directs. He slowly and methodically writes and dictates 'wilderness camping: camper in CA or WA catches.' He pauses a moment as if to add to the suspense. Then, without saying a word, he writes the word "hantavirus" in big letters.

Having done a good amount of wilderness activities in the West, I told him I was familiar with the hantavirus. The Man, in the same serious and stern tone he had maintained throughout our conversation, decided to fill in all of the blanks in my knowledge of hantavirus.

"It was discovered in the US in 1993." He further lectured how all of the coastal states with port cities have outbreaks of hantavirus from infected rats stowed away from overseas. "California, Washington, New York, Massachusetts...but Texas and the Gulf states are really bad." I was fascinated not only by the information he was teaching me but that this Man just happened to know so much about the virus.

He ended the conversation as abruptly as he started it. We both said goodbye and wished the other would not contract the illness. He slowly walked away. I look at the card he left with his hantavirus information scribbled across an image of Jessica Biel.

E86 and York - Maid for Success

2007-10-09T14:11:00.000-07:00

"I'm leaving in a few years and going back to the Phillipines," the maid responded when I suggested she convince my clients to hire additional help to maintain what will soon be a 4000 square foot apartment.

"I don't like living in the city." she continued. She moved to NYC a few decades ago as a single mom with five children. As a maid and nanny, she managed to send all five of her children to college who are now successful in their own rite. The money left over was spent investing toward her longtime dream of returning to and living comfortably in the Phillipines.

She bought a house, then another. "I have 5 houses now that I rent out in Manila," she said proudly. "I also own a grocery store which my brothers are running," she added. "But I don't like living in the city so when I go back, I'm going to live on my coconut farm and help with the harvest." That was how she grew up and, judging by her excitement, was obviously the happiest time of her life.

Funny how many of us work so hard with the goal of reliving our childhood. In any case, I may be harvesting coconuts in a few years.

Uptown 1 Train - Walt Whitman. To You

2007-09-29T19:32:00.000-07:00

STRANGER! if you, passing, meet me, and desire to speak to me,
why should you not speak to me?
And why should I not speak to you?

(from the MTA "Poetry in Motion" ad campaign in NYC Subways)

W124 and Morningside - Man with the Shiba

2007-09-28T07:02:00.001-07:00

My girlfriend and I were walking through the projects to get to the A-train this morning. We were talking about work when her eyes opened wide and she squealed "Shiba Inu!" as she always does whenever she saw one coming towards us. Years ago we decided, if we would ever get a dog, it would be a Shiba Inu. I personally prefer a Siberian Husky but it would be cruel to keep such a large and energetic animal confined to our small apartment in Manhattan. Besides, Shibas are so damn cute.

The strawberry blonde dog was playfully curious but regal, swaying from one end of the walk to the other. We were fascinated by the Shiba as he approached. I looked up and made eye contact with his owner and flashed a nod of approval just as they passed by.

"You like the Shibas?" I hear in the background. We turn around to see the owner had stopped to peer at us through his purple tinted sunglasses. "I got him in Japan." The dog turned around and stood proudly before us.

"I used to work in government services," the Man continued. "I had a friend in Japan whos Shiba was about to have a litter." The dog, realizing he's already heard this story, took interest in a nearby fencepost. The Man explained how he had recently put down his last dog. When his friend found out, he offered one of his unborn puppies as long as the Man would fly to Japan and pick it up. The Man and his wife were amused with the idea but never took it seriously. Later that week, he was walking around 57th Street in Midtown when, just like us, he was mesmerized by this breed of dog. Curious, he asked the owner what it was. "Shiba Inu," the owner replied. The Man went home that day to call his friend in Japan. A few weeks later, he and his wife were on the opposite side of the world playing with their new dog.

The Shiba suddenly looked up as he realized his owner's iPhone was incessantly ringing. The Man seemed disappointed his story was cut short. We bade quick farewells as the Man answered the call. The Shiba resumed his playful sway from side to side as they continued on their morning walk.

W18 and 5th - The Jet Set

2007-09-27T12:39:00.000-07:00

The AV Technician I'm working with mentioned he once had a client who traveled a lot with her dog. She loved her dog and she really hated having it put in the kennel below deck so she made an obvious choice...
...she bought her dog a jet.

W116 and Broadway - Homeless Guy

2007-09-26T13:07:00.000-07:00

I was waiting for the bus the other day and started talking to a homeless guy right outside the main gates at Columbia University. The Iranian president had just spoken that afternoon and the area was still teeming with news vans and reporters.

"Listen to what the guy has to say, then judge him for who he is," he said. "No reason to hate someone until you give him time to explain himself...that's not what this country is about." I agreed with him even though we both knew things weren't so simple.

The bus pulled up. I waved goodbye and we both parted ways wondering why things had to be so complicated.

W110 and Broadway - Man with the Cans

2007-09-25T14:16:00.000-07:00

Waiting for my girlfriend on the street corner, I struck up a conversation with a man who was just given twelve dollars from the local grocery chain for his garbage bag full of cans. It took him an hour to collect. "$12 an hour isn't bad" I told him. He quickly responded by saying that did not include the three hours of patiently waiting outside the store to trade them in. The Man with the Cans wasn't angry at all but passionate about this topic and was eager to share his thoughts with me. With a big toothless smile and abundant energy, he explained to me that he gets 5 cents/can while the store can turn them in for 8 cents/can. He figured the 3 cents of profit the store made for doing nothing but trading in cans for cash would be enough to hire someone for a few hours a day to dedicate to this job and thus, benefit everyone. Turns out any store that sells recyclable cans are obligated to collect them if someone were to walk in with a bag of them, just no store wants to make it too easy for the can collectors or they'd be inundated with recyclable metal.

We were soon interrupted by a guy who needed $1 to take the train. I seriously had no cash left (spent on tomato paste and frozen peas) but I'm sure he didn't believe me. The Man with the Cans reached into his pocket and pulled a buck from his $12 stash, handed it over to the guy and wished him well. The guy thanked him and quickly headed into the subway. "I've been there before, homeless," the Man with the Cans said. "I'm just happy to be healthy and alive. Do what you can and be happy with it" as he flashed another wide grin.

My girlfriend met up with me soon afterwards and we wished the Man the best. He cheerfully did the same, turned around and walked away.

W107 and Broadway - My Fishmonger

2007-09-25T09:38:00.000-07:00

Upon buying a half pound of baby octopus, my fishmonger was telling me how he and a couple of friends were scuba diving one day and came across a shallow hole in the muddy sea floor maybe 4 feet in diameter. He peered inside and saw that it was filled with large white suction cups. It moved ever so slightly as two eyes came up like a periscope from between the tentacles to see what was going on. They slowly backed away and left.