New York Weather

It has been raining like dogs and cats for the last three days, which is unique in itself. Even more so is the fact that before last week, it hadn't rained for a good couple of months. It also hasn't gotten below freezing or even below 40 degrees Fahrenheit thus far in the month of October. Currently it is 70 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and since it has been raining, it is as humid as it was all summer.
It is probably easy enough to blame it all on global warming, and I will not go so far as to say that global warming has nothing to do with it. Being in New York, though, one gets a different perception of weather than from other parts of the country. I have not lived in every climate in the world, so far be it from me to say I am an expert on weather. I am used to a seasonal climate, though, just like I think most people are in the United States and the world.

It seems that, living in New York, we get a different extreme of the weather that not many people think about. Coming straight from the Midwest, I am used to having a certain amount of sky to look at in regards to the weather. One does not get the same luxury here in New York. In New York, one is surrounded by buildings, and so the only view of the sky pretty much is straight up. Unless one has the luxury of being high up in the sky to begin with, either in one of the tall buildings that obstructs the view from the people on the ground or on the roof of some other building, one generally does not get a good view of the sky.
This is part of the reason I feel that New York weather is perceived as being a little extreme. Another part of the reason is because, as long as I have lived here, the weather has been a little extreme. This summer was the first time a tornado has touched down in something like 47 years, and that was during days of rain and storms that included flooding and the shutting down of subway lines. Last winter, there were days that it was 80 degrees Fahrenheit outside. There were also days when it felt like it was -20.

The geography of the land surrounding New York provides for nature during these very extreme weather scenarios. New York is essentially a series of small islands surrounded by water and land at the door to the Atlantic Ocean. It lends itself to being densely populated with all kinds of wildlife, not to mention humans. Being surrounded by water, and all the weather patterns that the ocean brings with it, New York is brutally hot and humid in the summer, deathly cold in the winter. I am sure the fact that man has ripped up all the natural insulation of the earth and replaced it with steel and concrete has only made the weather conditions worse for New York's inhabitants.

Like I said, I am no expert on weather or anything science-related, but, from an average bystander's perspective, it just seems that New York weather is a little different from weather elsewhere.

Take More Trips!

I had what could only be described as a bizarre week and weekend that was highlighted by a few leisurely road trips. Firstly, I welcomed two guests into my home this week who came from Beloit to take an east-coast road trip which brought them to Philadelphia, New York, and Boston, by way of a few graduate schools and friends'/relatives' apartments. When they got to Brooklyn, discussion began on the next road trip, which was going to depart Friday to get to Boston. I took advantage of the last leg of their road trip by planning my own road trip to coincide, offering me a free ride.

As they were planning to go to Boston, I made plans to go to Boston as well, from where I would catch the Concord Trailways bus to Manchester, New Hampshire, to spend some time with a few close friends of mine. The departure from Brooklyn was delayed already in the fact that I had to work from 6:00 in the morning until 10:15 in the morning. An early start was not really a possibility, but leaving at around 11:30am or noon shouldn't have been much of a problem either. What we didn't account for is that when it starts to rain apparently nobody in Connecticut or Massachusetts knows how to drive, and we fought through six hours of traffic to get to Needham, Massachusetts, which wasn't even the final destination!
My trip just kept getting more and more delayed, and I had to further take the commuter train from this Boston suburb, into Boston's South Station, where I was to catch the bus, departing shortly after my arrival in order to get to Manchester by not too late in the evening. It seems like all my recent trips end up coming down to something like this. The plans all get shot very quickly, and I am left to improvise with whatever knowledge or tools I have on me to get to where I need to go.
This couldn't have happened without the use of cell phones or the internet, both of which were key components in my getting anywhere and communicating with the people I needed to who were waiting for me. From Needham, I was able to nab the 7:19pm scheduled commuter train into South Station, which would have arrived at 7:58pm, giving me ample time to walk the length of the platform, climb the stairs at the bus terminal and make it to the gate for the 8:15pm departure time, where my friend was waiting for me with a ticket.

Of course, as was proven already today, nothing was on time, and the rain, for some reason complicates things in New England. Well, the train was ten minutes late, and to my dismay, I entertained myself by reading about the Boston Red Sox' success in Game 5 over the Cleveland Indians while I waited for the train to come crawling down the tracks as the rain came down overhead. The amber lights of Needham Center station lit up my newspaper, giving me enough light to see how hard the rain was starting to come down, and the piano and drum banging in my earphones from Radiohead's latest curbed my frustrations from taking my mind to the brink of insanity.

When the train finally came, I got on knowing full well what this trip still held in store for me, before I would be able to say I was going to arrive safely and "as planned" at my destination. I nervously anticipated my arrival at South Station and busily text messaged my friend who was waiting for me at the bus gate, hoping not to miss yet another bus, after missing the three we had previously planned to ride on together.
My book bag was filled to the brim with clothes, toiletries, reading material, and other sundries, and probably weighed a good 30-40 lbs. I had no choice but to strap it on my back and, when the train came to a complete stop, venture out onto the rainy platform beginning my dead sprint down and around the platform, dodging commuters to get inside the bus terminal. In the bus terminal, I ran to the escalator, caught my breath for a few seconds, then ran to the next escalator, nearly toppling over a traveler and his giant suitcase. I am not in as good of shape as I thought I was, probably due to my recent increase in consumption of Starbucks beverages.

I made it to the bus, eventually making it to New Hampshire, where I had a very good weekend. I was able to meet some new people, rekindle some old friendships, and take part in the lore of twentysomething Manchester, New Hampshire culture, which includes a lot of worship of the local professional sports franchises New England Patriots and Boston Red Sox, watching funny things on TV, and drinking beer.

Once there, I had a very good weekend.

The trip there and back was a doozy, though. It seems like lately, I'm not allowed to have a trip that goes according to plan, takes an average amount of time, or that isn't filled with compounding frustrations. I always learn something on these trips, though, and end up being more fulfilled than I thought I would have been.

The way back was not as tricky, and it did not take as long as it did getting there, but it was very frustrating and, in turn, very entertaining. The Manchester bus to Boston was pleasant enough. It was a Sunday afternoon, there were not so many people going down to Boston then. I rode with my friend who was returning home to Boston. Once we got there, though, I had to ride the Chinese bus from Boston to New York.

If you are not familiar with the concept, New York's Chinatown is a hub for several Chinese-owned and -operated bus companies that travel between New York and Boston, New York and Philadelphia, New York and Baltimore, New York and Washington, D.C. They've got the Eastern seaboard pretty much covered. The Chinese bus companies operate routes that are very frequent (they typically leave every hour or two) and also very cheap (one way to Boston is $15). A person in my financial straits cannot find a better deal, and the Chinese have a corner on the marketplace.
The risk you take when you get on the Chinese bus, however, are all those you don't get when you pay for a premium ride. Although the bus looks safe and clean enough from the outside, there are no guarantees. A rider does not sign anything; he or she just pays the money and gets on. It's a very simple procedure. The risks are there, though. I have heard a number of horror stories regarding the Chinese bus, and they do not seem to be so far-fetched.
As far as the cleanliness of the buses is concerned, it is pretty hit or miss. After they have your money, their only concern really is getting to the destination to empty the bus and pick up more passengers going the other way. The driver most likely does not speak English, and he most likely will not make any announcements over the bus P.A. His job is just to drive.
The bus lavatory I doubt is ever cleaned. I refuse to go in there except in the case of an emergency and it is imperative to get to the bus ahead of time so as not to be forced to sit anywhere near it, as the fumes escape every time a bus rider sneaks back to use it.

Chinatown is sketchy enough in itself. It is the only place in New York that smells like a farm. That makes me very uncomfortable, since there are no pastures in sight. Who knows what goes on beyond closed doors? The fact that the Chinese have boosted their own self-worth and economic welfare by running a series of sketchy bus routes up and down the east coast does not make it any more comforting. There has to be a reason why it is so cheap, doesn't there? Isn't that the thing we've been wondering about everything Chinese since the U.S. started outsourcing everything there and people started consuming mystery meat in their exquisite Chinese delicacies?

Nevertheless, if it tastes like chicken, I'll most likely still eat it, and vice-versa, if the bus gets me to Boston and back for less than any other bus company that has to take the same route, why not? There is a chance we'll get to stop at a Chinese buffet restaurant in northern Connecticut on the way!

I boarded the New York-bound bus at Boston's South Station and not wanting to sit my 30-40 lb. book bag on my lap the whole trip, I snagged two seats and let my book bag sit on the one adjacent to me. That did not last long, though. As we started to pull away, the bus was suddenly stopped and three more people were let on board, leaving them to take up the last three remaining seats, including the one cradling my full and heavy book bag. Some people shifted around and who ended up sitting next to me was a Chinese woman traveling with her friend who ended up being the bane of my existence on this trip home.

The woman obviously had no sense of personal space for strangers and this became more evident as the trip prolonged. She nudged my arm and turned around to talk to her friend behind her as the bus got moving. Thankfully, they spoke in Chinese (which dialect I'm not about to guess) so I was able to ignore their conversation to some degree and block it out as white noise. But they kept passing back and forth and sharing with each other Chinese candy, which does not have the most pleasant odor, and as they kept up with their conversation, and the lady next to me continuing to turn around to talk, I was able to get a whiff of each definitive flavor.

The woman next to me did get up to use the bathroom several times, so I was able to stuff my book bag under my seat, which had been sitting on my legs for the initial 45 minutes of the trip. Shortly after leaving Boston, the bus hit traffic on the Massachusetts Turnpike and slowed down to a crawl, waking me up from my pleasant nap. Then, all of a sudden, the bus turned off the highway into a rest area that included a gas station and several convenient stores and fast-food restaurants. The bus parked at the gas station. I thought to myself it was too soon to stop for a break, which they sometimes do about halfway through the trip. I waited for an announcement, but heard none. Instead, the bus driver got up and exited the bus, leaving us all there to wonder in awe and suspect what the delay was all about. There wasn't much I could do except sit there and wonder myself. I wasn't going to get home any sooner by bailing from the bus and trying to find an alternative way home, though, I would have liked it if the bus driver had let us know he was going to be gone for twenty minutes, as it would have given me ample time to get something to eat.

He didn't, though, and twenty minutes later, he got back on the bus, and drove the bus back onto the road, leaving all of us behind him with our hands up and shoulders shrugging and question marks above our heads.

The climax of this story, as one might expect, comes at the end, when the Chinese woman broke the boundaries of personal space to an unprecedented extreme. It entered my mind that a discussion I was having earlier that day would foreshadow the events of the evening's ride home. The conversation was regarding the difference between "off sides" and "encroachment", two penalties in football in which the defensive team breaches the line of scrimmage before the offensive team is able to begin the play. Both penalties are seemingly the same, yet each carries a different name, yielding them to be just slightly different, and one having a more severe punishment than the other. In my case, both penalties occurred unsolicited from this Chinese woman sitting next to me. As I was sitting, minding my own business with my iPod and trying to sleep, I also made it a point, as I usually do, not to interfere with her personal space. I always use the space above me and to my left to take off my sweatshirt, stretch, or shift my body in some way to get more comfortable. This woman did not seem to realize this, and had it been a football game, flags would have been flying everywhere!

She never stopped bumping her arm and elbow into my arm, ribs, and shoulder. Though she never caused me any pain or physical discomfort, she was definitely over the line. She was just a little off sides every time. It was consistent. And just as it would be to the defensive coordinator, it was annoying. Being the mild-mannered person that I am, I did not bring it up with her, and merely made an attempt to ignore her as much as I could and take haven in my own personal space.
She also did not stop talking on her cell phone the whole trip. Every five minutes she was making or taking a call. I'm not sure what football penalty that would equate to; unnecessary rudeness, I guess. The penalties only got worse as the night went on, and hit an unprecedented high point when, as I was reading a magazine under the light of the person in front of me, her hand came into my view as she tried to read a card with some kinds of phone numbers on it. This is terribly difficult to describe, because one would never expect anybody to do this in a social situation such as this unless the two parties involved knew each other. But we didn't, and she obviously had no idea that what she was doing might have been considered uncouth, or whatever that translates to in Chinese, and it made the situation INCREDIBLY AWKWARD AND WEIRD!
She literally shoved this card right in my view of what I was trying to read. It was unnecessarily deep into my personal space and in view of the light. She actually physically put her hand on my magazine, steadying her view of this phone number card, causing me to pause my reading and turn to her with what must have been a very confused look on my face. Encroachment! The woman obviously did not speak any English, as she motioned with her finger that she was trying to look at the card with her eye and could not make out what she was reading.
She made her phone call, and I was off the hook for now. What I had witnessed thus far had been truly unbelievable; however, the pinnacle of this insult was still to come!

She was on the phone yammering in Chinese for a good few minutes after that, and I took notice out the windows that we were getting close to New York. As we inched further and further along in the Bronx to get down to the lower end of Manhattan and Chinatown, the woman next to me did the most remarkable thing I've experienced on a trip like this. I was sitting quietly, comfortably anticipating our arrival when, out of the corner of my eye, I see this woman's hand come towards my face. In the grasp of her fingers was the earphone to her cell phone headset she had been using all night. She shoved the thing in my left ear (the one that was farthest away from her!), which was already occupied by my own headphones; so, she got it as close to me as she could. It was evident that my job now was to take off my headphones and listen to whatever was going on in this cell phone headset.
I looked at her in disgust and she just pointed to the headset, instructing me to listen to it. I didn't hear anything, and I told her that. Finally, a voice came through that asked me in typical Chinese-accented broken English, "How far? New York? How far?" Even though New York could be seen out the windows to our right, I was still thrust in this interpreter's position, and begrudgingly answered, "15 minutes".
Encroachment! Major encroachment! She was way over the line! Roughing the passer even! My answer ended up being pretty close, but it was still just a guess.

I have never been accosted by foreigners as much as I was on that bus ride, and as I eventually returned home safely and away from Chinatown, I am sure that it will serve as a truly memorable experience throughout the rest of my life. When these kinds of things happen to me, I, of course, wonder if they happen to other people just the same. If so, I would really like to hear about it. I also wonder it these things happen to me for the sake of my being able to tell the story later on, either for entertainment value, or to warn others of what fates could befall them in the world.

Whatever the reason may be, I learned on this trip a number of things. I learned the new Radiohead album is really good, which is not much of a surprise. I relearned how magnificent the fall colors are on the New England landscape while driving north through Connecticut, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire. I learned how delicious pumpkin ale is when offered with a garnish of cinnamon, sugar, and nutmeg. Lastly, I learned that while on the road of life and in the pursuit of happiness there are going to be snags, but if you keep trying and do not give up, you can get there.

New Year's Resolution

Every year, people make New Year's Resolutions on New Year's Eve for the coming of the next calendar year. People attempt to set goals that they almost never adhere to. While it is tradition to do this and quite honorable if one can stick to it, I feel that setting a New Year's resolution for sake of tradition and on a somewhat arbitrary date such as the sequential coming of the next calendar year is falsely representative of what a New Year's Resolution should be.
While it is as good a date as any to set a goal for oneself (the feat of living to see another year is admirable in itself), I feel that it would be much more accurate for a person to set a personal goal for him- or herself on the date of his or her birthday. As this is the date said person came into this world, I feel it is much more appropriate and more celebratory to become introspective at this time, when it is more fitting personally, than at New Year's, when it is a time everyone can celebrate the coming of a new year.

When one thinks about it, a birthday really is the coming of a new year in a person's life. It is a time when a person can take into account all the years he or she has been alive on this earth already, and then take the appropriate positive steps to look forward to the next year. Each birthday is a person's own personal New Year, and it should be celebrated as such. Therefore, I think that if a person is going to take the steps and set a New Year's Resolution for him- or herself, he or she should do it on his or her birthday.

I recently entered into my 23rd year on this earth, and though I've never really been big into setting New Year's Resolutions for myself, I definitely use the surrounding period of time as a time of inner reflection, thinking about all the things I've done in the past year, some I'm proud of, some I'm not so proud of. It gives me a better insight as to what I should try to do better for the next year.
I really hope to make my 23rd year a great year for me. It's taken 22 to get me this far. Hopefully, I can make the 23rd one worth the wait.

A Few People I'd Like to Strangle

Everyone who goes through life experiences certain people who just bug them completely, and they cannot think about anything else except how these people bother them. Well, just like everybody else, I have a few people in mind who really bother me, and not just a little bit. I'd like to take this time to name and describe them a little bit.

Some of them are specific individuals, while some of them are a general collective of people. If while you are reading this find that you, yourself, fit into any one of these behavioral categories, I feel sorry for you. I also ask that as long as you might be around me, you alter your behavior just a little bit to avoid suffering the fate of what I would ultimately like to do to this groups of people.

All of these people fit into the category of people I'd like to strangle. But strangle, in this scenario, is really subjective to me, because, it might occur at a certain period of time in my frustration that I might want to do more than just strangle these people, such as maim, stab, or punch. But it's all in good fun, and it's for the principle of the matter.

The people I'd like to strangle are as follows:
1. People who think cell phones are the end all, be all of human existence. People who cannot go anywhere without talking to somebody on their cell phones. These people need to realize that life is not going to stop suddenly if they don't answer their cell phones. Cell phones should not be answered if the person being called is in a contained space with a group of people, in a queue, in any public restroom. If one is in a contained space where other people might be going about their otherwise normal business, one should excuse oneself in order to take the call. If one cannot excuse oneself, then one should wait until later to get back to the person who'd call was just missed. That's why the answering machine was invented.
The worst people are the ones who stop everything to answer a call. This is when my fists are clenched and my teeth are gritted. Never, under any circumstances, should a person who is walking down stairs stop to answer the phone when there are people behind said person who are counting on the momentum of the person in front of them to continue walking down stairs. You are putting other people' s lives in danger when you do this! For the sake of a phone call. It's not that important.
The only thing more important than people who answer their cell phones whenever they want is the ridiculous and overly obnoxious ringtones that sound off at these inconvenient times. It doesn't matter what song it is, the cell phone ring is obnoxious when it comes at a time of intended silence. The cell phone has a silent feature. Use it.

2. People who have umbrellas in New York do not seem to realize that they carry in their hands a deadly weapon. More than that they don't seem to realize the confines of personal space and how to carry an umbrella. When carrying an open umbrella, people don't seem to realize that there are at least sixteen spikes lining the outside edge of the umbrella in all directions. That is a possibility to poke out at least sixteen eyes at a time. When walking through a crowd of people on a rainy day, I can usually be seen ducking around like Groucho Marx trying to avoid such a calamity. When carrying a closed umbrella, irresponsible people often carry them at their sides perpendicular to their bodies, with the pointed end to the rear, out of view. So when they are walking around, they are essentially swinging a blunt spear to and fro, which usually lines up right around my crotch, and if I'm not paying attention while trying to pass by a person doing this, I am probably going to lose something very dear to me. These people with umbrellas need to stopped. It is understandable not to want to get wet, especially when wearing nice clothing, but a little responsibility must be practiced when taking on a luxury such as an umbrella.

3. There is a woman of oriental descent from some eastern nation, China, Japan, Korea, Vietnam, I'm not sure which, who sits on a stool in the subway tunnel that links the bus terminal and the Times Square subway station. Everyday, when I lived in New Jersey and went to work at the Strand, I would have to traverse this tunnel to get from the bus to my train, and everyday, I would pass by this woman, who would just be sitting there on her stool with a cup of change in her hand, shaking it pitifully. Everyday she was there. Everyday she sat, holding her cup out. She did nothing else. And people gave her money. Everyday I passed her by, and nearly everyday, I was some sap bend over and put some money in her cup. She didn't even do anything. At least these other guys are in here playing the accordion, playing a pan flute, preaching, or something. But all she did was sat there, and it bugged the heck out of me. By now she's probably done pretty well for herself. She probably has enough money to put some away in an interest-earning savings account or an IRA or something. I just don't see the point.

4. People on the bus or the airplane who sit in front of me who think it is absolutely necessary to recline their chairs need to be strangled. I understand comfort. I want to be comfortable, too. But on a crowded bus or airplane, the extra three inches gained by reclining one's seat is not that important, and it is not going to change much. None of us have room to spare. You don't need to invade mine just so you can get to sleep easier. Don't be surprised if your head gets smothered by a tiny pillow as it moves closer to my hands.

5. The next group of people don't really make me want to strangle them, but they do make me uneasy, frustrated, and bitterly jealous. These people include those who are my age or younger and are more successful than I am at the moment. I really can't stand how much money these kids make and how much easier their lives are. They are just as smart as me and have done just as much in their lives as I have, yet they somehow have gotten the better road. I don't understand it, and it makes me just that much more frustrated.

6. The worst category of people I can think of on this great planet of ours is the category of people who litter. Every time I see trash on the ground, especially if actually witness somebody leaving it there, I want to pick it up and shove it down the throat of whoever left it there. There is nothing I can think of that is so easy to take care of and is such a worthless display of human quality than litter. People who litter deserve to be beaten. It seems like such a little complaint, but the behavior of littering is a gateway into the human psyche, and I'll bet that the attitude of not caring about what is left behind, not caring about the consequences of individual actions is the cause of more than half the problems in the world. Littering is disgusting. It is so easy to avoid, and yet, it constantly surrounds us.

7. The last person on my list of people I'd like to strangle is Michael Jackson. I go back and forth between hatred and loathing for Michael Jackson. While I don't think it's fair to hate any one person whole-heartedly, I do think it's fair to hate Michael Jackson. He has never done anything to me personally, but the media-driven stunts he has pulled since the passing of his career in popular music has turned the rest of the world against him, and rightfully so. Everything he has done for the sake of attention, rumored or not, is despicable. If that weren't enough, he owns the rights to the Beatles' catalog, a most hallowed collection of music. It is a crying shame that Michael Jackson is still such a force in popular culture, and I wish I didn't have to hear about him ever again.

There it is. I hope nobody was offended. If they were, I am entitled to my opinion, knowing full well that I probably do things that bother people as well. We're all human. And we all make mistakes. But the important thing to remember is that we're all in this together.