I got my commute lined up and organized. at either :15 or :45 past the
hour I should be waiting for the Q102, which connects me to the Q32, which
ushers me straight to the front door of my new office: the Rose Main
Reading Room at the NY Public Library. It’s not really an office, of
course, and I am sure to tire of it eventually, but for now it gets me
away from the dungeon of my apartment and into the reality of a city in
which other people live and work and do things. I have been in seclusion
for so long that the virtual office environment, the augustness of the
study hall atmosphere at the Rose Main Reading Room, all that is good
enough for me to feel like I live in New York and not in my living room.
And I have a new attitude about that library now. I gave up going to the
main branch of the NYPL when the guards began confiscating bags of all
visitors. It was like stepping into a CompUSA and it kept me from visiting
the space for years (unless I happened not to have a bag on me). Yes, it’s
true, I refuse to enter virtually any establishment that confiscates its
visitors belongings as a rule for entry. At one point the list of places I
did without (and which did without me) included the NYPL, the Strand
Bookstore, CompUSA, Tower Records, and certainly others. It was a
constipated security maneuver that seemed to admit by its existence that
the store’s inventory control techniques were so poor that they feared
people would take the crudest approach of all: stuffing items into their
bags and briefcases.

the NYPL doesn’t do that any more, and in fact it’s gone full circle.
unlike those earlier times when entering the library felt like a cross
between entering a CompUSA and a TSA groping, the place now feels public.
PUBLIC. Anyone can walk in, no questions asked, no presenting of papers or
belongings, no confiscation of possessions. The only intrusion is upon
exiting the place, when security guards ask to look into your bag, looking
for what I don’t know because much of the time they obviously do not look
past the shadows inside my bag. yes, it’s a public space now. i don’t love
it, but i like it. i have typed and written things each weekday (except
yesterday, too hot, i though) since last week. i consult the 1000-page
dictionaries for words and i make phone calls from the payphones in the
wooden phone booths in the basement.

(i cancelled my Verizon landline service from the payphone in one of the
wooden phone booths at the NY Public Library.)

(i ported the old landline number to MagicJack.)

but that’s my new office. the NYPL. and i will tire of it soon enough, but
for now i enjoy the space, the randomness of the faces, the august
atmosphere of the room, and the frigid air conditioning. if anything the
a/c is too much, at least on less stifling weather days such as today and
yesterday. unless i am wearing long pants i can only stay in Rose for
about an hour on normal days before my teeth start to chatter.

and i like the commute.

oh, right, about that commute. today was the first time i tried the
Q102-Q32 connection. It worked, but today was kinda weird because the N
and Q trains stopped running in both directions, forcing a mass exodus of
subway riders to the bus.

people just do not understand how to use the bus in this city.

there were 8 or 9 passengers on the whole bus until we got to the 36th
Avenue stop and about 70 people poured in, telling the bus driver that the
train had stopped running. the bus driver waved off all MetroCard swipes,
saying the transfer was free, but the extra few minutes needed to board
all these passengers contributed to me missing the Q32, which i saw arrive
at Queensboro Plaza just 20 seconds ahead of the Q102. O, lost!

upon exiting the bus and waiting for the Q32 i was bemused and somewhat
amused at the confused and angry Manhattanites barking questions at
whoever was nearest at hand and appeared to speak English, asking “how do
i get to Astoria from here? the trains aren’t running, how do i get to
Astoria, this is a fucking nightmare!”

i hope their nightmare ended, but the Manhattanites i spotted seemed
terrified, terrified of Queensboro Plaza, terrified of buses and streets
when subways were their lowest usual indignity.

Whatever became of the lost Manhattanites, today’s experiment in transit
seemed to prove that the plan, the commute, will work under normal
circumstances. It takes me virtually door to door. Yes. that’s nice, nice
to be able to choose my office space based on the ease of the commute.

still, this ritual of “going to work” reminds me of how much time is
wasted “going to work”. this commute should typically take about 40
minutes — much slower than a subway commuter but i, unlike most new
yorkers i know, prefer the bus and i, unlike most human beings, don’t
necessarily mind taking my time getting from point A to point B.

oh so another odd incident happened on the commuter today. the bus driver
came within a few inches of flattening a police officer, an NYPD officer
who for some reason just stepped right into the path of the bus (this
according to the bus driver.” he had to slam the brakes so hard that
almost everybody went flying forward as far as physics and the metal
railings of the bus allowed us to be forward thrust. a man sitting next to
me found his face buried in my left arm pit and i felt pressure against my
right ribcage as it suddenly met the wall next to it. cell phones flew and
books slid down the floor toward the front of the bus, sundry objects from
briefcases and pocketbooks flew asunder as the brakes of the bus squealed
like beaten pigs, gravity rushing in the wrong direction as chaos ruled
the moment.

and then everything was calm. the dude next to me apologized for jamming
his face into my armpit, apologized as if i didn’t notice that the bus had
just come to a violent halt. i supposed i would have taken the safest
route and apologized as well. you never know who you are dealing with in
public quarters. i smiled and asked “are you OK?” i don’t remember what he
said. it seemed like “I’m sorry” was among the few English-language
phrases he knew.

somewhere on 5th avenue the bus driver was happy to see a colleague
standing at one of the bus stops. he shouted out “I just can’t get a
break today! I almost ran down a police officer back at 3rd Avenue! I
don’t know what he was doing out there!”

After that exchange a woman whose phone had slid all the way to the front
of the bus during that near-hit of the NYPD officer stood up in
anticipation of exiting the bus. The driver had to hit the brakes *again*
and the woman nearly lost her balance, though the drama was nowhere near
as drastic as back at 3rd Avenue. She laughed it off, revealing her
Eastern-European accent, saying “This bus ride is going to kill me!”

Much laughter among the few of us left on the Q32.