Chronicles Continued

The requisite two weeks had passed and it was on my ‘to do list’: head to MTA Lost and Found to reclaim the lost umbrella.  [MTA calls it Lost Property on the sign outside the door.] Figured by this time, they should have a boatload of them. Arrive and the small room is crowded.  Every one of the ‘clients’ is acting more or less civil, to each other and the man behind the window.  Out of six, one man is given his lost item!   He recovered what would have been a movie-camera-sized-case in days gone by, choccy-block full of the most miscellaneous items I have seen a man carry.  I didn’t think to ask him how long it had taken for his bag to be found, as he was busy telling his side of the story that MTA wanted him to list everything in it.  That is why he was displaying the contents… “How do I list all this?” he was asking.  One lady was trying to pick up a found item belonging to her husband, she needed to bring not only his ID, she needed to go to a notary to have a permission slip by him authorizing her to pick up his goods.  She had a chewed-on postcard she had received in the mail and she worked for MTA.  A third lady was hoping to find her mobile phone.  We all thought or some said- ‘Good luck with that’.  An admitted non-believer in the system, I held little hope for any of them.  A man in a MTA uniform entered the room, from the outside and rang the buzzer to be admitted to the inter-sanctum.  I asked him if the place was packed with all kinds of stuff.  He smiled, what to me was a knowing smile and said “Yes, we have a lot of stuff”.  That gave me hope for my umbrella.  But then my turn came.  I handed in my computer print-out.  Mr. Behind-the-Window, left and returned.  No umbrella.  “You have got to have a number of these”, I said incredulously.  “Hot item”, he replied.

Climbing into bed, saw movement outside my window.  Shocked at first, as the moon, catching the silver balloon in it’s light, was reflecting it into my room.  Looking more closely, could see, just above my curtain,  the two balloons stuck in the branches of the tree.
Certainly a more pleasant view than the two plastic bags stuck in the tree outside my neighbor’s window.  Grateful for small favors.

$75,000 per night.  The price for the penthouse hotel suite at the Mark Hotel.  Since 2008 the price tag to purchase it as an apartment has been 60 million with 45K per month maintenance but no takers.  Now The Mark has redone it into a 5 bedroom, 6th bath hotel suite.

More information needed?  Themarkhotel.com

Have a lunch date uptown, East Side.  My route begins in the West Village.  In the spirit of discovery, I  decide to try a different subway line to get there.  I complete the first part of the northerly journey on the unfamiliar line, exit by the stairs, to catch a crosstown bus.  The bus I want has to travel West to East through the Park.  I arrive at the bus stop and standing there are dispensing machines, unknown to me.  Although I speak and read English like a native speaker, the signage is not registering. I can’t figure out what is intended for me to do.  I wait for a bus to arrive, so I can ask the driver.  When I pose the question of “Do I have to have a separate ticket from that machine?” and with his reply of “Yes”, he asks me where I am going, he tells me that I need to be on the opposite side of the street. Thanking him, I cross over and come to stand in front of a new bank of machines.  Eventually, I take a gamble, insert my metro card and am given a  paper receipt, something to which the driver had referred, I remember vaguely.   I join the throng waiting for a bus to arrive, traveling in the direction I need to go.  The bus arrives.  All the doors pop open along the side of this double sized bus, and as one has a ticket, one may board through any of the three entrances.  I choose the middle one. I don’t know if I am supposed to walk up the aisle and offer the ticket to this new driver, but I don’t see anyone else who boarded with me at the same door making a forward move, so I hang on to the bar above my head.  While standing beside a row of seats, thinking about the ticket in my hand, someone tugs at my coat tail.  The bus is full, and I assume that someone is going to offer me their seat, I am standing right over them.  Imagine my utter dumbfoundedness – as I look at the smiling face scanning mine, it is one of the persons I am on my way to meet for lunch.  Now tell me, out of all the variables that are at play…. how did I end up towering over her on the same bus.

Another Year!  Another 12 months of the Unexpected.

When your ship comes in, be down at the docks!

When your ship sails, make certain you are on it.

If your ship runs aground, salvage the best parts.

It’s never too late to start anew, says she of experience!

 

 

 

 

 

This, dear readers, is post 1000 on this journey around the City.  Never did I imagine my observations would have a life, but here I am and the urge to tell-all-about-it, is still strong.  I so enjoy observing life in this City that claims my loyalty, where I feel at Home!