Utterly Uttered

You know those people who walk into a room and immediately start looking around?  They assess the well-established situation into which they've entered; how many people are present, how do they know one another, how deep or meaningful is their conversation?  Is it okay to walk up and augment the discussion?  If they don't know them already, when is a good time to introduce themselves?  Wait for a pause.  Scan the room.  Assess.  You know those people?

Well, I'm not one of those people.  I am, in fact, the opposite of those people.  I am the person who walks into a room talking.  When I get uncomfortable, or enter a new situation (usually one and the same thing), whatever minimal social filter I have toiled to strengthen in my adulthood diminishes greatly.  I get loud.  I get intrusive.  I forget to use my "inside voice".  I am not proud of this character defect, but it is a part of who I am.  I'm working on it.  In fact, if I ever walk into a room you're already in, I'll probably be more than happy to tell you about how I'm working at it in detail.  At full volume.

Which brings me to the topic of this post.  This is a list of things I say out loud every time I ride the subway.  Seriously.  Every.  Time.  And it is important that I publish this post on the World Wide Web because there is a chance that one day I'll fail to utter these phrases under my breath, and will accidentally say them full voice.  And at the wrong person.  Who will stab me.  For good reason.

That's not how we do things, here.  - One time I actually said this too loud to a couple who was strolling along on a sidewalk in Midtown.  I think my actual phrasing was, "Fucking tourists," but it's the same general idea.  The woman heard me and responded, rightfully, "We LIVE here!"  I wanted to fire back, "Than why on earth are you walking so SLOWLY?" but it was Valentine's Day, and my girlfriend and I were having a nice homemade "Taste of New York" tour date together, and I didn't want to ruin the romance by cutting someone.  So I remained silent and avoided further eye contact like a good New Yorker.

Since then, the phrase has morphed into "That's not how we do things, here."  It is usually reserved for those offenses a New Yorker is unlikely to commit, but a tourist or a newcomer would.  Pausing in front of the turnstyle to look for your Metrocard is a great example.  Seriously?  You didn't know where you were headed beforehand?  You forgot they tend to charge for these types of things?

Another time I'll use this phrase is when someone just stops on the sidewalk or subway platform.  No shifting to the side, no looking around, just... stops.  The vast majority of the time this happens, I am unclear as to why.  What I am certain of, is I walk a lot faster than the person committing said offense, and was usually right behind them at the time it was committed.

Don't babysit the doors if you ain't prepared to hustle. - That's right.  Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the fury of my commute, I drop in the word "ain't".  I'm gangster like that.

This phrase passes over my lips on a daily basis.  I will never fully comprehend this mentality.  People will guard the subway door with their life, refusing to give up even an inch of ground so they can be the first to exit when it comes time for their stop.  And this part I understand; I do it, too.

The problem lies when the exit comes, and they proceed to mosey along like they're on the streets of a small Midwestern town window shopping on a Saturday morning.  Why did they guard the door, then?  There is no way this person doesn't know they walk slower than everyone else.  Why didn't they cede ground at the beginning and be one of the last people off the train?  I honestly don't get that part.  I am hoping someone will explain it to me before I get assaulted for saying it out loud.  I definitely think that would count as "starting the fight" and am equally sure I could end up doing time. Unless my judge is a fast walker.  But who am I kidding?  I doubt judges even take the subway, and the ones that do probably ain't prepared to hustle at all.  Word.

Turning signals! - Contrary to what you might think, I honestly do try to be a decent and polite person.  Really!  I hold the door for strangers, say "Bless you." when someone sneezes, and always try to promote hugging (especially when all that's expected or reasonably appropriate is a handshake.  Not on my watch!  C'mere, you!)

One of the things I do is try to walk even more quickly than normal on crosswalks, even if I have the right-of-way.  I am sympathetic to the driver (I am one on occasion), and I know how annoying it can be when someone takes their sweet-ass time crossing the street.  Don't they know the driver has someplace hella important to be?  Don't they know who the driver IS?

And so, I will frequently pick up the pace for a car trying to turn onto (or out from) the street I'm currently crossing.  But without the use of a turning signal, I often have no way of knowing the driver's intentions.  And since they've refused to use one, I almost always assume their car is simply not equipped with that feature.  Like they traded in leather seats and a bitchin' stereo (stuck on a station that is usually trying to convince me of how much I adore Latin music) in lieu of that pesky lever that will let someone know they intend to turn.

"Turning signals!" is just a lowbrow way of saying, "Good day, Sir (or Madam, as it were).  If you would be so kind as to, in the future, should this situation arise again, notify me of your intent to redirect your vehicle, nothing would please me more than to clear the roadway for you in a swift and expeditious manner, thereby increasing the painlessness of your trek."  But it comes out the other way.  Because by that point, I'm usually annoyed at them for not using the thing to begin with.

 What happens at either end of the escalator should come as a surprise to no one. - I posted this on Facebook once, and was surprised at the sheer lack of response.  That may, of course, have something to do with it not being as funny as I think it is.  Welcome to my world.

But the fact is, what happens at either end of the escalator should come as a surprise to no one.  Escalators have been around for over a hundred years.  Despite our childhood fear of one day getting sucked under one of them (this will never, and has never actually happened [UPDATE: Okay.  Rarely.]), offenders continue to behave as if the behavior of the moving staircase is totally unpredictable.

Here in New York, we have a walk-on-the-left-stand-on-the-right policy of escalator etiquette.  It greatly reduces the number of stabbings per year.  Unsurprisingly, I am always on the left side.  For 80% of the escalator trip, I feel a sense of community with my Left-Side brethren.  We're in this together; a working, living, thriving chain of people moving in tandem to a common goal.  A strong sense of support and - WAIT JUST A GODDAMN SECOND.  WHY DID YOU STOP?  DIDN'T YOU KNOW WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?  IT'S THE SAME EVERY DAY!  IT DIDN'T CHANGE!

...and that's the end of the escalator ride.  It accounts for 10% of the time I'm annoyed.  The other 10% is the beginning.  People seem unprepared for what is about to happen.  "Oh, look!  An escalator!" they seem to say, before walking in that direction, "I should approach it slowly in case it randomly changes speed at strange intervals or suddenly becomes stairs."  And so I'm in a position of being among Slow Walkers at the beginning, and Stoppers at the end.  That 80% in the middle, though?  Gold.  Serene gold.

Don't worry, Sweetheart, I've got game. - Remember when I said before that I am often the guy babysitting the subway doors so I'm the first one to exit?  Well, this phrase is the one that someone is most likely to hear, simply because of my proximity to the offender.

When I'm standing at a subway door, waiting to leave the train, it is because I have direction.  I have a purpose.  And, most of the time, I'm prepared to hustle.  But sometimes people think they know better than me.  Sometimes, people stand right at my back, a little too close, as if to be saying to me, "Don't babysit the doors if you ain't prepared to hustle."  Being the person who said that to them earlier in the day, week, or same train ride, I can understand their plight.

But I've got game.  I'm prepared to hustle.  I walk faster than you.  So don't worry, Sweetheart.  Rest assured, you will get where you're going and will not be impeded by me in the slightest.  So back off a little bit.  You're breathing on my neck.

Get it done, Pokey. - I realize that many of these phrases are mere shorthand for the rules I've stated before.  Actually the reason I started this blog to begin with.  But I'm finishing this post with this particular phrase because it happens to be the one I'll actually repeat under my breath, regardless of if I'm on foot, on a bus, a subway or in a car.  Like a mantra.  Which then makes me like a crazy person.  Which then makes me fit right in to New York.

"Get it done, Pokey." is not dissimilar from Adam Sandler's "T-t-t-toDAY, Junior!" from that timeless classic, Billy Madison.  It is directed at conductors, drivers, bike riders, cashiers and (mostly) fellow pedestrians.  They don't seem to understand that there are people behind them, or otherwise stalled because of them.  I enjoy smelling the roses from time to time.  Hell, on rare occasions, you'll even catch me loping (though not often.  My gait does not lend itself to moseying, strolling, sauntering or other euphemisms.   My friend Andrew calls it my "Wilderness Stomp" and that he knows where I am at all times in Astoria because of how I walk.  I'm comforted by that).

But if I'm behind you, and you're walking abreast on the sidewalk, and you're texting, and eating, than I have a list of things I need you to read before you ever leave the house again.  It's a set of suggestions to help you avoid getting stabbed, too!  And to prevent you from stabbing me!  This mutually beneficial win/win guidebook can be found at www.iwalkfasterthanyou.blogspot.com.  Just don't read it on your phone while walking in front of me.  That's not how we do things, here.

Thumbs Up / Thumbs Down

Every day, I exit the downtown 6 Train on the North end for work.  Technically, it's the 51st Street station for the E, M and 6, but the E and M Trains are on the lower level.  Leaving on the North end, the rear of the train, I am able to exit on 53rd and walk directly into my office building.  To do so, however, I have to navigate down a very narrow set of stairs with a bunch of other commuters.  This path was an inspiration for this blog, as coming into work every day is not unlike a combat zone.  The stairs I descend run alongside an escalator going UP, which some enterprising people decide to ignore so they can barrel up the steps like a tank and run head on into a steady stream of commuters such as myself.

The reason I decided to recognize this subway station for Thumbs Up / Thumbs Down is because there is something here that makes me smile, followed by something that makes me grind my teeth, and they appear in rapid succession:


THUMBS UP

There are two people handing out the free commuter paper, AM New York, that crack me up every single day.  One of them is at the bottom of the stairs.  He has long dreadlocks and is always smiling.  He announces his paper to other people and says things like, "THERE'S the smile I was looking for!  Hold onto that all day long or I might steal it for myself!"

Shortly afterward, as you're walking up your final stairway, you can hear another AMNY distributor hawking her paper to people repeating the line, "AM New York!  Get all the news you need right here!  Stay safe, stay warm, stay focused!"

I love them.


THUMBS DOWN

At the same time as you encounter the second AMNY passer-outer, you realize she's yelling over music.  Now, let's be clear:  I am one of the rare people who likes buskers - normally.  I will turn off my iPod in order to hear the guys on the subway itself, trying to squeeze in a song between stations, or the people on the platforms who are making a living doing what they love for anyone who'll listen.  I can't imagine what that must be like for them, so I always try to listen, at least a little.

But this particular "musician" is... I honestly don't know the words to describe the infection that are his songs.

First, please note that it is one guy playing a Peruvian Pipe Flute.   This would be fine in and of itself, but he plays along with a CD that has, apparently, the rest of his bandmates playing the other tracks of the song.  So it's instrumental karaoke.

Secondly, THE CD ONLY HAS TWO SONGS.  I don't know if this is 100% true, or if Peruvian Pipe Flute music is a genre where all the songs sound the same to me, but I'm fairly certain that if you walk by at any given moment, he will be piping one song from the following list:

1. Unchained Melody
2. Our God is an Awesome God

The first is a wedding standard, and also appeared in the movie "Ghost" with Jim Cunningham, the nun from "Sister Act", and Ashton Kutcher's mom, Demi Moore.  The second is a contemporary Christian song I happen to know exists because I was forced to listen to it in Sunday School in Michigan when I was growing up.  Neither is an exceptional piece of music, and BOTH qualify as songs you DON'T want stuck in your head for the day.

So, many mornings I start my day smiling at the funny AMNY people, and then immediately wanting to scream, "Hey, Peruvian!  If your God is so awesome, how come He hasn't taught you any other songs?"

Chicago Kevin

From: Kevin B.
To: Jordan Knol
Date: Thu, Feb 17, 2011 at 11:59 AM
Subject: Nice blog


A couple things I wanted to chime in on just because...

* in Chicago people don't stand to the right on escalators.  It just doesn't happen.  It's a HUGE noticeable difference that I think stems partly from the Midwest vs EastCoast.  People on the East Coast are wound tighter and therefore are anxious to get to where they are going, so you have more "fast walkers" who will enforce the rule to stand to the right on the escalator.

[[I appreciate receiving this insight.  It's been a long time since I was on the "El", so it's nice to know I should wait a little longer until people in the Windy City get their shit together.  It should be noted, however, that this "stand on the right on an escalator" rule ONLY applies on public transportation escalators.  Once you're on a private one, all bets are off.  Sometimes, in Port Authority or at a movie theater, I'll stand on the left just to watch people behind me get confused.]] 

* my biggest pet peeve happens almost every time I go to Union Station in Chicago to catch my train back home.  People that STOP right when they get off the escalator.  Are you kidding me?  The next 10 people behind them have to stumble by while they make a decision about deciding where they think they are.  Most of the time this happens in high-touristy areas for obvious reasons.

[[I love your line: "people have to stumble by while they make a decision about deciding where they think they are."  This is EXACTLY what's happening: 
--At first, the escalator is a novelty (Every.  Damn.  Time.), "Holy shit, dude!  These stairs MOVE!  It's like... it's like they're CARRYING me!" 
--Followed by complacency, "Hum-de-dummmm... this moving-stair ride is freeeeeee... and I'm on iiiiiiit!"  
--Then, you would think the leveling off of the "stairs" would be an indication the "ride" was about to end, but NO - these rubes are always taken aback by the end of the escalator, like their equilibrium was so jostled in the last 30 seconds that they need a minute to gather their bearings.  (You will notice this jackassery on the sidewalks, too - as people exit storefronts, but I think the importance of pedestrian merging and not ever stopping will be posts of their own, so we'll save that for another time.)

Thanks for writing, Kev!]]

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.