…or you are part of the problem. I return to the City, in car with two dogs and have decided I will park in front of my apartment building for the time it takes to unload my luggage [and of course plants], before driving off to return car and dogs to owner. I pull up in front of building and a truck with driver is sitting where I wish to park. When asked if he is leaving, being Mexican, not Turkish, his up and down head movement means yes. He drives away, I pull up and back in. There is Ram-Dodge pickup parked behind me with a big fat orange parking ticket under his window wiper. He is going no where for a while as that is his ‘ticket-to-ride’ as it were. I back up close to his bumper, with just enough space to walk between the two vehicles because I must purchase a parking chit from the machine behind the car on the sidewalk. I have never looked to see what they cost. $3.50 an hour limit 2 hours. I purchase one dollar’s worth of time. I return to the car, get in, put chit on dashboard and pull car forward because the car has a hatchback trunk which will not open parked so closely. While doing this, I notice a late-40’s-+aged woman at an outside restaurant table about 25 feet away intently watching me. The thought passes through my head that she is going to offer to help, as I unload in two trips the contents of the trunk to my front door. My third trip back to the trunk I shut it, get back in the car start the car, and back the car to where originally parked, with minute space between the two vehicles. Had already noted the parking ticket, and seen that his truck bed was about two feet from the grill of the van behind him. I once again must exit the driver’s side, with my purse, water bottle, and maps, open the back door, harness up the two barking dogs get them off the car seat without them springing into the oncoming traffic and walk around the car either front or back to reach my front door. None of the above occurs with any sort of grace. As I am walking around the front of the car, hands full of the above, leashes included, the lady calls to me. Me, thinking she is going to say something nice, looks at her, smiling. She says something again. This time I hear ‘You can’t park like that, the truck behind you can’t get out!” I am flabbergasted. I look at her, I look at the truck, having made all the calculations already that 1. he isn’t going anywhere! and 2. he can get out with the room behind him. I look back at her. “Yes, he can!” I state. And she begins to argue. [Shoot me now!] I cut her off “If you see him getting into his cab, ask him to honk, I’m just going to be a few minutes!’ ‘Oh, I’m not going to be here,” she says. “I’m leaving.” I[Shoot her now!]. The nerve, to mettle in my business, being part of the problem, not the solution. It was only when I returned 15 minutes later and saw she was indeed gone, that I could sling an ‘epitaph’ in her direction.
Clever Signage
Where Do the Days Go?
It is amazing to find oneself so busy that the time to sit down and write a line about life in the City isn’t there. It can be too many rehearsals, too many social visits, too many scripts to write or as in this evening, enjoying the company of one of the other apartment dwellers. Life in the City is full of opportunities for connection.
Barns
Country Dryer
A Tiny city
Presently am in what is known as Upstate New York. [There is a proper definition, it means generally, heading north or west from the City and after about 2 hours you are ‘Upstate’]. It also means that folks live here who may have never been to the City and don’t care if they ever do go. It feels like a universe away. And it is beautiful. And impoverished and quiet. None of the noises of the City or the urgency of the crowds. The roads may be paved, or gravel, the signs for directions are accurate if you are local and know what they mean. None of the lawns are manicured, or the outbuildings tidy, but the beautiful barns and this time of year the changing leaves, the area is spectacular. So I’m here, and one of the things I always seem to ‘have to do’ is mail something. So I head to the Post Office for my second visit. As I pull up, I see a woman standing beside a man who is standing beside her car at the driver’s side with a long piece of metal, stuck in the window. Doesn’t take a second to see she is locked out of her car. While I extricate myself from my car, I hear her say ‘Last time we….” and I thought “last time”?! As I turn to close my door I look inside her car and see that the keys are not in the ignition. That surprises me. But I figure none of it is my business, and I go into the building. I’m next in line and wait for the clerk and the local to finish their discussion, and then it’s my turn. Nothing remarkable about our interaction, until it is time to leave. As I am pushing open the door, the clerk says, ‘Have a nice day.’ I reply “Thank you, and you too, as your day is nearly finished.’ It was 4:15. ‘Oh no.’ she replies, ‘I have to go to Court”. ‘Go to Court? What do you do there?’ I ask. ‘I’m the Judge’, she states. Somewhat taken aback, and having intimate knowledge of the Court system in Virginia, I repeat, ‘Judge. What kind of Court is it?’ ‘Civil, criminal, all of it.’ she replies. At this point I have no idea what I said. But somewhere in the conversation I ask if she has to have a law degree to do this. Her reply is no, but had she known 25 years ago when she began this, she would have gotten one. PolyAnna me of course suggests that it’s never to late. I ask if she is what is known as a Magistrate. [I only know what that is because of research for a role]. She confirms that she is and she thinks New York is one of the last places that still has them. [Later learned that Delaware has them as well]. She asks me what I do and in my reply I state that I came to this late in life, believing it is never too late. And out the door I go. Approach my car, parked next to the still unlocked SUV with woman and male helper, but the woman is now leaning against the car on my side, the passenger side. I say to her, ‘Did I hear you say,”Last Time”?’ ‘Yes.’ She says. Continuing the conversation, I ask, ‘Don’t you have a second key?’ ‘Yes’, She says. “He went home to get it [doesn’t clarify who “he” is] but it wasn’t where I said it was.’ ‘How far away is home?’ I ask as I am crawling in behind the wheel. ‘Oh’, she hesitates, ‘5 miles’. ‘5 miles’, I repeat. ‘Would you like me to drive you there so you can find it? It might just be a lot faster.’ ‘No’, she replies but seems dubious. ‘Your call’, I reply, ‘Be happy to do it for you’. ‘No’ she says again, and then gestures across the parking lot of the post office. ‘There is a garage over there and they are our friends, and if I need to, I can ask them.’ To this I said nothing.
In the end, as I drove away with the man still at the driver’s side with his long piece of metal, and the exchange with her I wondered if this was one of her attention getting mechanisms because there appeared to me, to be simpler solutions.
Tiny city ways.
If You Want the Best Audition-
Be booked out of town on something else. Without fail. When I was in Australia, two great opportunities presented themselves, but I was of course gone. I am actually out of the City on another project. Missed an audition for three day booking for AARP in Washington DC, National Campaign commercial and today, wouldn’t you know it, a call for an audition for House of Cards- speaking role! As they say, it doesn’t rain but it pours!!
The Parking Place
Since moving to the City, I have said more than once, it is a good thing there were men who were busy with public transport, while I was asleep at the wheel. By that I mean, growing up in a car-cultural, I had no insight into the mass value of mass transport. And the City has done a terrific job of making mass transit available to everywhere and at affordable prices. But on Wednesday, being out of town, I drove into town, and ‘drove’ is the key word here. Driving in and around the City has never been a problem, as long as you know the rules. ‘Buses are first, again, buses are first! and no right turn on red’. But when you want to stop driving, what do you do with the car? Park it of course. Park it on City streets that run east-west and have alternate days and alternate north-south sides of no-parking-for-3-hours-due-to-street-cleaning. Such a good idea when one is a pedestrian. So it is on a Wednesday, after lunch, I need to find a spot that has either just been swept in the period of 9-12:30 or a Thursday spot that will be begin sweeping at 9 am. After a 2.5 hour drive, I arrive in the West Village at 12:15. At 1:30 I still do not find a spot. The streets, as previously reported, have been redesigned: there are blocks of Citibike-stands and new plantings in cement centerpieces, and of course bike lanes. When one is walking and taking public transportation this is lovely. When looking for a place to ditch the car, safely, it is beyond frustrating! Add to this that every free spot approached has a fire hydrant standing in a 20 foot swath of free space. At 1:45 I pull into the waiting area of a small garage around the corner from where I live and ask him what his 24 hour rates are. I’m figuring Wednesday 2 pm to Thursday 2 pm and then some part of the 24 hour rate, on Friday as I would be leaving Friday a.m. But No. The rates are day rates; $48 for Wednesday, and each day following plus 18% tags and taxes. That sum I couldn’t justify in any manner, so I headed out again to circle some more! One does a lot of ‘self-talking’ while this driving around is taking place. Certainly wouldn’t want anyone to be privy to that. But finally, 2:05 I find a place, no hydrant, room to park properly and cleaning will begin at 9 on Thursday morning. I park and unload. After the rehearsal later that day, late to bed and don’t sleep well and with the looming need to move the car.… it’s early on Thursday and I get up. I find it absolutely futile to lie in bed and think about the fact I am awake. So at 6:45, up and dressed and go move the car out of the parking place. I know I need a better strategy for finding a new parking place. I need a spot on the south side of the street that will not be swept until Friday 9 am. Having no idea how long this will take, I bring a book, some paper work and pen. I get to the car, drive away and go around the block to the street corner where ideally I would like to park. It has to be a south side spot. There are many spaces on the North side of the street, because all cars there have to be removed by 9:00 am. I pull up to the corner at the intersection to wait. I have no idea how this works. Do you wait for the cleaner to come, and then get behind him and park? Does he take more than one pass down the street? If he is finished by 9:30 can you then park there? If a policeman passes and sees a car parked in the don’t-park-here-spot-at-this-time, does he leave a $75 ticket under the window wiper? As the minutes ease by I see more cars being moved and the circling begins. I stay put as I have decided that circling is nothing but a crap shoot. 10 minutes pass. During this time, I watch in my review and side mirrors at the movement, and I look up and across the street. On one of the blinks across the street, I see a white car, about the size of mine, pull out of a place on the south side of the street, and as I am now intimate with every block, I know the fire hydrant is not there! The traffic light is still green, but the walk sign is stop. I have to start my car, it’s a manual, so engage the clutch, cross the intersection without hitting a pedestrian who might be crossing against the light going against me, since it is about to change, get through the light and hope that no one else has spotted it or is sitting in wait, but a half block closer. In the 5 seconds needed to accomplish all of that, I put down the book, start the car, engage the clutch, pull out, get through the light as it is turning yellow, looking at the two crosswalks I will be crossing to see that there are no nannies pushing baby carriages or joggers impatient to wait, and aware of any movement to my right so as not to hit another car that might be sitting on the north side of the street, nearer to the parking place and pull out just as I approach. It all comes together and I pull up to parallel park, the easy part. I know that I emerged from the car with unusual-morning face, because one man walking his dog stopped, looked at me and grinned and another walker just stopped and stared. I believe my face must have reflected what I imagine I would feel should I ever win the lottery. I was now only 20 minutes into my Thursday morning and my car was in a space that was not going to be street swept until 11 am Friday. Wow!
Thursday night was the show and as it was quite a night, hit the bed at 2:45. Later that morning, again unable to sleep, and planning to leave town anyway, I got up and was on the road by 8 am.
Never again!
We Didn’t Win
We, as an ensemble, had great shows last night; back to back, 6:30 & 9:00 pm. But we didn’t win the competition. We didn’t see the show of the playwright that did win, so we don’t know if it was deserved. It did seem that the quality of the shows was higher than it had been in the first round. The one thing that the group that won did, was book a lot of seats, [when reservations are made there is not financial transaction] and then they did not release the seats when a dozen of their compatriots were no- shows. Clever way to stack the cards. It cut others out of the audience including three of my friends. We really had hoped ours would win as it was such a clever premise. To show his appreciation, the playwright Joe and his wife treated us all to drinks and tapas after the shows until after 1:00 am. Without doubt it was a great experience.
Lyft Update
My experience with Lyft in Washington DC was less than spectacular. Read in today’s paper that the company, headquartered in California, has the drivers up in arms as the rates they are to receive have been cut by at least 10%
Taken from The Daily Mail:
What appealed to many riders was the culture at Lyft, which used the slogan ‘your friend with a car’ and encouraged to socialize with passengers.
‘Lyft is a real community — with both the drivers and riders being inherently social — making real friendships and saving money,’ Scott Weiss, a partner at venture capital investors Andreessen Horowitz, once wrote.
Driver frustration with the company blew up late last month when another fare cut was announced via email.
‘To keep phones buzzing with requests, we’re testing 10% lower prices in Los Angeles starting today,’ the message read.
Many drivers had started on a guaranteed rate of $18 an hour, which converted over to a commission split with Lyft after a few months. Drivers have lately seen their fares cut to levels that made it difficult to earn minimum wage.
So the drivers toted their shaggy, pink mustaches to the beach, set a fire pit ablaze with lighter fluid and torched a few symbolic ‘staches.
The protest comes at a time of a backlash against ride-sharing companies.
The Chronicle reported that Lyft Plus drivers were lured by the promise of high returns to buy $34,000 luxury SUVs before the company scaled back the program, angering operators.
The last year has also seen drivers protest against Uber in New York, San Francisco and Santa Monica.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2780121/Drivers-burning-Lyft-mustaches-hopes-company-smoke.html#ixzz3F86JFmiS