Rule #6: Single File in This Town, People

I'm not proud of this, but I'm going to admit something, here:  I don't really understand football.  Look, there are rules in every sport that the casual observer doesn't understand, right?  I love baseball, but I can't comprehend the "infield fly rule" as hard as I try.  I enjoy hockey, but have trouble understanding "icing", and generally look for blood when the puck itself is too hard to see.  Soccer is exciting, but I don't know when to be excited, exactly, because the clock counts UP and I never have any idea when the game is due to end.

So, American football.  I used to watch with some guys back in college who were always talking about their "fantasy team" and "the draft" and how so-and-so did a nice "pick" and so on.  I would always nod and smile and generally try to drink quietly and quickly until their conversation became interesting. 

(When we lived in New Zealand, we were turned onto a different sport:  RUGBY.  It turns out rugby is just like American football, except there's no padding or helmets, the refs don't ever stop the clock, and the cheerleaders look like hobbits.  I miss New Zealand.)

There was one time in particular, after I was sufficiently inebriated enough to admit my total ignorance of the sport, that I asked a buddy of mine the following question:

"Why doesn't the guy with the ball just run where there aren't any guys?"

Love football all you want.  Talk about how the coaches are super brilliant and how such and such a quarterback can Hail Mary a tight end until all hell breaks loose.  But at the end of the day, I haven't ever really gotten a good answer to this question.  You have the ball, and your job is to run to the end of a field with it.  There are people all in a line trying to stop you.  Why not just run where those people AREN'T?  Too often I'll watch a football game and see some dumbass with the ball try to jump THROUGH a crowd of guys who are, frankly, a lot taller and bigger than he is, and all he had to do was run like 10 feet to the right where the huge gap was and he would have been home free.  One day someone will give me a good answer to that question in the hopes of getting me to like something about football BESIDES the food at SuperBowl parties.  At which point I will shush them because I'll be watching rugby.

Can you see where I'm going with this?  Can you see where talking about a line of large people blocking you from reaching your goal would have a DIRECT CORRELATION to NYC commuting?  Ever walked on the sidewalk?

Side-by-side is rarely, if ever, acceptable.  I  understand it, and sometimes (on the rare occasion I mosey) I am guilty of holding hands with Fiancé as we walk down the sidewalk.  But here's the kicker (ha!):  if someone is coming towards us, or I hear someone trying to pass us from behind, I will scoot behind Fiancé.  She thinks I'm being polite.  It is actually because there's a good view when I'm behind her.  Pffft.  Whatever, it's win/win.

I've seen some of these rubes dragging their wheeled suitcases that boast airline tickets from some podunk flyover state when they're walking abreast in front of me, and I think, "Walk faster," which is what I generally think when I'm walking behind anyone, but it's worse in this scenerio.  In this scenerio, the sentence ends with a semi-colon and is finished with, "Single file in this town, People."

I like tourism.  I like that it brings money to the city.  I like that tourists riding the subway brings money to the MTA so they don't "have" to raise the fares for at LEAST another four months.  But if I were a tourist in, let's say FRANCE.  I'd at least ATTEMPT to order some food in French, right?  That's part of the fun of travelling!  Not just to SEE the Eiffel Tower, but also to live like the French... if even briefly.

Well, if that's the case, welcome to New York.  Feel free to visit the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.  Times Square has a TON of space for you.  While you're here, however, we have a few rules for you to follow, if you don't mind.  First and foremost is this:  It's single file in this town, People.

Touchdown.

Missed Connection

My actual post on Craigslist this morning:

new york craigslist > queens > personals > missed connections

Brunette with blue bag on N train this morning - m4w - 32 (N train into Manhattan)

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Date: 2011-05-27, 8:48AM EDT

You: The brunette on the N train this morning with a blue bag and jeans. You were reading "Getting the Love You Want" and you got on at Astoria Blvd. or 30th Ave. You sat next to me on the "loveseat"-style bench at the end of the car.

Me: The blond guy with sunglasses and a white button down shirt, doing a SuDoKu.

You know those guys who sit in the subway car and spread their knees as far apart as possible to air out their junk? Well, I'm not one of those guys. I was sitting against the rail with my feet on the floor. YOU, on the other hand, apparently ARE one of those guys, or the female equivalent. Why did you have to sit so close to me? There was SIX INCHES on your right, between you and the wall. Why didn't you move over? Why were you on top of me, breathing all heavy through your nose as if you'd just gotten back from an intense workout? I don't need that in the morning. I don't need that at ANY time.

At first, I thought maybe you were into me but didn't know how to "make your move". I figured since you were reading "Getting the Love You Want", you were trying to be more assertive. Then I realized, nope, you're just an idiot. A heavy breathing idiot with no regard for personal space. What made me change my mind was you reaching ACROSS me to grab the pole before the train stopped, and then KEEPING your bony-ass arm in my face after I tried to rise to exit the train.

After all this, however, I've decided to help you. I'm going to save you the trouble of finishing your book. I can tell you "how to get the love you want" right here on the Internet. I don't OWE you this, but it's Friday, and I'm feeling benevolent. You're welcome.

Getting the Love You Want:
Don't sit down too close to someone on the subway and breathe on them at 7 o'clock in the morning. Further, don't reach across them and stick your bony, hairy elbow in their face until you're actually ready to stand and exit the train. Men will notice this, and totally date you and ask you to have little babies with them. And then you can move to Long Island and you'll never have to ride the N train ever again.

• Location: N train into Manhattan
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 2405430335

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Bitter Friends

Well, it's been almost a month since the epic CYOA post, and the ideas for new things to bitch about ("about which to bitch"?  I know I shouldn't end a sentence with "about", but I'm not exactly comfortable rhyming, either...) are beginning to come back to me.

Last night, I was standing on the sidewalk with two friends, Clutch and Michelle, and they were mentioning funny subway experiences they've had.  Michelle, at one point, used the phrase, "I love crotch-watching on the subway", which is an amazing sentence and a large part of how I knew I'd be posting something today.  The sentence itself stemmed from a story I have since asked her to email me for two reasons; 1. She could tell it better than I ever could, and 2. I feel a little dirty thinking about it.  I promise to post it as soon as she passes it my way.

Before they knew about this blog in the first place, Clutch goes, "You know what?  Someone should write down all the rules of commuting and post them somewhere.  Because, in New York, let me tell you, you can talk slow and you can read slow, but you are NOT allowed to-".

This is where I cut him off, mostly for dramatic effect:  "Walk slow?" I offered.

"Yes!" he replied.

So, like a magician pulling away the curtain during the big reveal, I said to Clutch, "Dude - the name of my blog is 'I Walk Faster Than You'!"  At which point we proceeded to high-five in an effort to appear more Caucasian than we already did.  I'd imagine it worked.

So, at some point soon, I will be posting Rule #6, for which Clutch gave me the idea by going off on a rampage about tourists.  Michelle, for her part, studied her toes until it was time for her to share her crotch-watching story.  She did, however, provide me with an excellent site: "People of Public Transit", which I have linked to on this blog's sidebar.  It is worth checking out for significant amounts of LOLs.

Michelle also sent me this via Facebook:




As you can see from my last post, a blogger on The Huffington Post named Paul LaRosa wrote an article about subway etiquette in NYC that addresses many of the topics on IWFTY.  He even answered my comment telling him I promised to always raise my umbrella over his head as I walk past him should we ever encounter each other on a rainy day.  It's the least I can do for such a kindred spirit... even one from Brooklyn.

Lastly, it should be noted that I did write a post regarding the death of Osama bin Laden, I just didn't publish it.  It had a bitchin' picture of Captain America standing in front of the twin towers that Google Image Search was kind enough to provide for me, and it had fireworks and noisemakers and a waterslide and a pizza party and strippers and cake.  Fiancé listened to this epic description and advised against me publishing it on the grounds that this blog is known (ha!) for being snarky and sarcastic - why would I get all celebratory and patriotic now?  It's is a valid point, so I decided to curb the post and keep it to myself.  Personally, I think she just didn't want to share any of the fireworks/noisemakers/pizza/cake/strippers with any of you. 

For the record, the last sentence of the bin Laden post was something about his last commute involving being thrown from a helicopter into the ocean.

Rule #3: Ride the Wake

In the race car movie Days of Thunder, Tom Cruise's character illustrates how to pass a guy by racing directly behind him, thereby minimizing his own wind resistance.  He conveyed his message by moving sugar packets up the thigh of Nicole Kidman's character.  At least, I THINK this is what he was illustrating.  All I could focus on was Nicole Kidman's thigh.  You see, this is BEFORE she got all the work done on her face.  NOW she looks like Heath Ledger's version of The Joker... only more scary.

My point is that it's sometimes okay to bide your time before passing someone who's walking in front of you.  Please take a look at the illustration below.  It is an approximation of the Ditmars Blvd. stop on the N/Q train.  Like any good commuter, I always try to know which door to enter in which train car so I have easy access to the stairs/escalator/exit upon arrival at my destination. 

This is the subway stop at which I live, and I have knowing-which-door-to-exit-from down to a science.  As illustrated above, many people (represented by the purple "X's") think the door from which to exit the subway car is the first one, Door #1.  On the contrary, it's actually Door #2.  You see, if you can be the first one out of Door #2, you can cover the distance between the train and the LEFT staircase in a few strides, whereas if you exit from Door #1, there are a. generally slower people in front of you, and b. all of them are going to go for the nearest staircase, slowing your exit from the station.

So I (the little happy face in the picture above) always try to leave from Door #2.

But what's that you say?  There are people coming UP the stairs?  As it turns out from the epic illustration above, there is indeed a child and it's parent walking ascending the righthand stairway, and one lone soul ascending the left.  So the strategy here is simple:  Ride the Wake.

The large "X" exiting Door #1 is likely to be a fast walker: like me, he knows which door to exit and has been itching to do so ever since 30th Avenue.  When you see HIM make a beeline to the LEFTHAND staircase, that's when you make your move.  Get in stride directly behind him.  He will mow down (or at least force aside) the one knucklehead coming up the stairs, which will allow you to pass him at the turnstiles below.

Under NO circumstances take the righthand stairs.  The presence of the child and it's parent indicates that they are people who will be traveling abreast, not single file and hugging the rail as is appropriate.

I was going to add red arrows to the illustration to show what I was talking about, à la the whiteboard of an NFL coach, but all I could hear in my head was John Madden's voice doing a play-by-play of the whole thing, and, quite frankly, there are enough voices in my head to ignore without the appearance of his drunk, rambling ass.

Riding the wake is like using a human shield.  The person in front of you takes the hits, while you match pace and get where you're going bruise-free.  Obviously, if they are a Slow Walker, this is a problem.  When that becomes an issue, please direct them to Rule #1, so at least you can still progress in your journey, even with some bumps and scrapes along the way.

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I don't think I've gotten enough credit for NOT making fun of Scientology in this post.  I mentioned Tom Cruise at the beginning, and didn't so much as giggle.  The Voices and I are making real progress.

Rule #1: Hug the Rail

This is the most basic rule of subway/sidewalk/biking/driving etiquette, and seeing people break it makes me want to rip the bedazzled cellphone out of the offender's hand and hurl it on the third rail in the hopes that they will dive for it headfirst.  It breaks down like this:

Just as if we were driving on the highway, slow traffic stays to the right, and people pass on the left.  The people on the right are staying over as far as possible, close to the shoulder, and are therefore doing what I like to call "Hugging the Rail".

(I think it comes from when I used to go to skating parties in middle school, but, being someone who did not skate that well, I usually had to spend the first 90 minutes or so scooting myself along, hand-over-hand, pulling myself around the rink using that little waist-high wall that separates the smooth wood floor of the rink from the cheap, thin carpeting near the arcade games, skate rental area, and nacho counter.  You know who was a good skater?  Josh McGraw.  I remember him getting all the girls, too, as he was athletically gifted in every way.  I realize NOW, of course, looking back, that he had red hair and freckles, which means he had no soul.  I bet this is why he was such a good rollerskater.)

This is the natural order of things, and is even mimicked on escalators for the subway systems of both Washington, DC and New York (is this true on any others, besides Chicago as well?); you stand on the right, and walk on the left.  Slow people keep right.  Hug the rail.

This should also be true on sidewalks, subway stairs, and for bicyclists.  All too often, however, that is sadly not the case.  Instead,  I can't tell you the number of times I get off the train and head down the stairs to go home, and I have to kick the person in front of me in the small of their back because they're busy sauntering along, deliberately slowly so as to not lose their balance while they're TEXTING and walking down the center of the stairs at the same time.

Another example would be a woman with a MASSIVE PURSE sticking out behind her, situated on the subway platform in such a way that she is equidistant from both the front edge of the bench behind her, and the tracks in front.  The problem being, of course, no one can get by her.  A simple, "Excuse me" will usually suffice - until you get close enough to hear that she has her ipod on full volume.  And have you noticed it's almost NEVER any good music?  It's always either that horribly generic Latin beat that blasts out of taxicab windows passing my apartment in the middle of the night, or some shitty Euro-techno that is probably only appropriate for someone still rolling on Ecstasy from the night before.  In that case, the "Excuse me" is no longer an option.  Your only recourse is to avoid bumping into her MASSIVE PURSE as you attempt to sidestep behind her, likely whacking your shin or calf on the bench, thereby creating a resentment for the rest of the day against the MTA, the purse designer and Latin musicians (to be honest - I generally have a resentment against that latter group, anyway).

The last fine example, and there are many, is the person who stands with their back to the open subway door, but has no intention of leaving at the next stop.  The way I see it, there are three types of ways the human body can end up, when fully extended:  1. Horizontally, like a carpet or a pizza; 2. Upright, but profiled, like a book on a shelf; and 3. Vertically, but head on, like a picture on a wall or, appropriately, a wall.  Too often, people are standing in subway doors like #3, while they SHOULD be standing in the doors like #2: sideways, with plenty of room to get by (hugging the rail).  Instead, I have to push up against them and try gain a valuable few inches of floorspace, while THEY'RE probably thinking I would like to take them out to dinner and a movie so we can get nice and cozy at my place after, but minus the dinner, movie and my place bits.

All of these instances, and the myriad of other examples, would easily be avoided if people would just HUG THE RAIL.  Move to the side.  Go at your own pace, but please leave room for people to get by.  People who, while not necessarily LATE, are people who have decided that, if walking counts as exercise, then dammit I'm going to be the best, fastest walker ever, especially because, in NYC, walking is sometimes the only way to get from Point A to Point B, and often there are hot dogs at point A and ice cream at Point B, so step aside, asshole.  Hug the Goddamn rail.