Creepy People on the Train

December 2011: My friends and I on our way back from a Post-Holiday-Christmas-Party. Chit chatting and laughing away, we randomly take a seat on the R train, which is running late again on another typical Sunday night. Or so we think. Mistake #1.

Completely absorbed in our conversation, we at first did not notice the ugly stares from a hunched over woman across from us. Mistake #2.

All of a sudden my friend looks up and notices that something is wrong. By then the female is practically attacking us with her bare looks. We are all three creeped out but try to nervously laugh it off. Without further warning, the woman-like creature yells and curses us out. No apparent reason, obviously. We slide over all the way to the other side of the car and continue our talk. Just another random madwoman on the train, we think.

Fast forward 5 months:

I am running late to an appointment at my friend’s house and am happy to snag a seat on the overcrowded F-Train form 14th St on. It can be quite an unusual thing to have, a free spot on a Saturday afternoon. I then glance across from me and see a tired female-like person with chopped off red hair. She is slouched and taking up a whole bench for herself. At first I am startled, unsure as to why exactly she looks familiar. As far as I know I am not yet friends with the homeless of New York and that is pretty much what she resembles.

Then it hits me: It’s the madwoman from back in December! At first I am hesitating, my desire to switch seats immediately almost takes control of me. Or rather: Taking the chance of not having a seat but standing again seems all of a sudden attractive. Anywhere far far away from this woman. Then I chill. It’s been almost half a year and I am dressed completely different, I think. No way on earth she would remember me from way back then. How wrong I was….

She happens to wake up on once every so often but I become more and more confident that I am out of the limbo. So I start getting my cell phone ready as I just have to take a picture for those two other friends I was with when she flipped on us in the winter. My phone is wrapped in a cassette cover, making it less evident that it’s a cell phone.

I even manage to shoot three pictures of her until she gets what I am doing. And this is when hell freezes over. Her loud cursing begins again and is aimed directly towards me. I think she was also mad because of the guy who sat next to her without her permission, to be honest with you. I try to ignore her screams for a bit but then have enough. At the next stop I pretend I am getting off – and flee to the other end of the wagon. Everyone is aware of her yells by now and doesn’t know where to look. Still, the crowd is pretty tolerant of the madwoman, even though it is a Saturday afternoon and not everyone is wasted or too tired to think.

Before she yelled at me

Overall, you have quite a few people on the train that are out of the norm. For instance the girl that peed her pants when taking the Q Train home at 2 AM during a Sunday night. This was back in the days, around 2 years ago, but I still have to think of it on occasion. We were all tired and wound down from a night out and a long week. All except for this one girl, who just couldn’t stop dancing to her music and was wiggling around in her seat. Or so I thought. And then I noticed she wasn’t wearing any head phones or holding an iPod close to her. Her peculiar behavior caught the attention of pretty much everyone sitting close to her by now. Except for the guy on the far end of the bench, who was almost asleep. She jumped up and was dancing up and down on a spot close to the door. Then she was holding her pants. This must have been the point where she gave up because she sat back on her spot and pretended she was sitting on a toilet seat. All of sudden we hear a gushing sound and, sure enough, there she is, peeing on a NYC subway. Not even standing but sitting.

We were all taken by surprise and didn’t know how to react at first. The next stop was close and she got off right there. The guy who was half asleep noticed that something was wrong and jumped to another bench far away from the scene. As soon as the girl got off the train, we lost it. Hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time. The situation had been just too peculiar and strange and completely weird and I am sure not everyone witnesses this even in the Big Apple. She tried to hide behind a map outside – a cop was also patrolling the station. He didn’t know what we were laughing about but that was when the train doors shut again. I really wonder what was going on in this girl’s head and why she did not at least open up the doors in between cars to pee there (which would have been the more sound solution, as my friend pointed out after hearing the story).

And not to forget the bipolar girl who at first complimented an Irish couple with their baby on how sophisticated their European accent sounded. But the next minute she turned around and yelled at a guy who was holding on to the same pole to better get his magazine out of her face or otherwise something bad would happen. The poor man did not know what to say at first (his magazine was way out of her reach, not to say face), and the Irish couple crept far away from her (not to be beaten up next).

Wheeew, the subway in New York – it’s definitely a circus going on beneath the city. Since almost everyone takes it at some point in time and since almost everyone relies on it as a means of travel, you have quite an accumulation of characters on one small speck of train. Every once in a while you get the crazies. But as soon as the funnies board the subway you see how much worth it is taking. For instance this picture I took yesterday: Flower girls with the widest hats possible addressing Cinco de Mayo in their own special way. Things like these brighten my day and make me love taking the F or Q or A or anything else all around town!

And back to the red-haired lady: I am still wondering what would have happened if I had yelled back at her. She never tried to physically attack me, only with her looks and screams.

Yell at me once, your fault. Yell at me twice, my fault. Yell at me thrice, be prepared for a nice loud REVENGE! AAAAW!

Moving to Park Slope

After being a Flatbush resident, I did what can be seen as the total opposite: I moved to Park Slope. Yes, the fancy part of town. And on the opposite side of Prospect Park. Park Slope is considered a family-oriented neighborhood but nevertheless it still holds its reputation as being posh and quite overpriced.

I got a room at a reasonable cost on the liveliest avenue the Slope has to offer: The fantastic 7th Ave. The walk to the train station was now a good 7 minutes away, but walking past all the restaurants, coffee shops, and other culinary joints made me happier than a 1 minute walk past Prospect Park in Flatbush ever had. Moving here was a relief compared to from where I had come. And I felt I had really earned it after the hard times I experienced before. No yelling neighbors who wanted to kill their children so they could have some peace. No abused animals barking in the lonely dark. And no bed bugs to worry about anymore.

So I really enjoyed time in the Slope. One of our favorite neighborhood bars was just two blocks up: The Austrian Steinhof and its great happy hour special. A little bit of Germanness and home brought to me by simply sipping their Franziskaner or looking at the ads in that pub. Being able to go out after work and eat at one of the numerous restaurants on 7th Avenue was enough to keep my attention occupied for months. Then of course celebrating at a few dance bars on 5th Avenue, which had to be explored by me and the roomies every once in a while.

I had Cafe Steinhof

The cultural experience I had so badly longed for before was now right at my doorsteps. I could see myself developing a completely different social life and having more diverse networks than ever before. Just going to the gym, which was two minutes away, and attending all of their different classes felt simply good. My dream of living in an area that was in New York but did not necessarily feel like New York seemed to have come true. At the same time I did not feel threatened when returning home late at night. That was before word had spread on several instances of rape and molestation around 5th Avenue. Today I still feel safe in the neighborhood, though.

I now had two trains to choose from if worse came to worse. So while the Q got stuck for two full days during the blizzard of 2010, the R on 4th Avenue was running just fine and getting me to the places I had to be. The F-train, with its local stops, still only took me 20 mins until I was in the Lower East Side. And if we felt like partying in Williamsburg, we surely had the G (whenever it decided to run), which we could take a short ride up to Lorimer Street.

True, my room was about half the size it had been before. But this time I had a gorgeous roof top from which I could see New Jersey and Manhattan at the same time. Celebrate Brooklyn in the summer was just 10 minutes away (by foot), and I made a point to see almost all of their Saturday evening concerts from June on. The oldest theater of Brooklyn, the Pavilion, was a fast walk up to Prospect Park West and, even though it was not too comfortable to sit in, I still had the chance to see a few good movies during rainy or cold days.

Rooftop Love!

Of course you start adapting to everything after a while. And surely Park Slope is not without flaws. Annoying children running loose on the sidewalk, while their mothers are talking with each other and expecting you to move out of the child’s way. An appalled look from the caretaker once she realized I just did not care if her spoiled brat fell down in front of me and pointed out they better watch their children better.

And every once in a while you saw a mother carry a baby to a bar. No one needs a crying infant at a place you want to get drunk at. Also worth mentioning are the high prices for groceries and the outrageous rip-off at the one and only Union Market. Even though it is considered a gourmet store, I had a few fights with the cost-value relationship of the items they offer. What had been known in Flatbush as funny looks towards white people now turned back into the opposite. My Dominican friend once visited me (he is black) and felt very uncomfortable walking the streets of this neighborhood. He claims everyone was observing him, waiting for him to make a wrong move. I wouldn’t know. But it wouldn’t surprise me. I have yet to find an area in which both races are equally accepted. While 7th Avenue is still quite snobby, 5th Avenue can be seen as the Latin part of the hood. Many Hispanic folks live here, own their store, or like to wander around. It is a peculiar aspect of the Slope but it surely exists.

A stroll past those two summer street fair on both 5th and 7th Avenue made up for all the hardship accompanied in living in the Slope. Just walking all the way down to Crown Heights and seeing the differences in worlds was an eye-opener to me. Sometimes you simply know when you fit into a hood and when you don’t. I like to believe I have found my perfect match just here, in the quiet, overpriced Slope!

Brunch in the Slope

[For another post on Park Slope, go to Life in Park Slope!]

F and Q Train Life

A few days ago I was on the Q-Train again – after 8 months of abstinence. I used to live on one of its stops but then I moved to an area which is on the F-Train. I had almost forgotten about the Q-train’s crowd and the people who board the subway every day. I remember how I really hated getting into the B and the Q in the morning or during rush hour after work because of the people on it. However, yesterday it was a nice change to take the line again and it made me compare the persons on there to the ones riding the F-Train.

Q-Train Park Slope

The Q-train was basically my very first stable and standard train I took from my first month here until December (that’s when I moved). It goes from Coney Island all the way up to Astoria in Queens and takes commuters from the deepest point of Brooklyn to the heart of Manhattan, if desired. Its tracks lead past the Russian neighborhoods around Brighton Beach, the Jewish communities in Midwood, the Haitian families around Prospect Park, and Brooklyn’s richer elite in Park Slope all the way up to Central Park in Midtown. It gives its travelers the chance to get to work on time or to stop by at some of New York’s best sightseeing spots. Directly from the depth of Chinatown at the Canal Street Stop it takes them to the Latin neighborhoods who are enriched by their own exotic culture in Queens.
But the very best part about the Q-Train is the view you have when crossing the Manhattan Bridge. Words cannot express it as this picture will but it is definitely the sight of the Manhattan skyline so close by that still, after over one year of being here, makes my heart pound faster once the trains exits the underground tunnel and steers toward its destination. It continues to give my journey to the City sense and to take my breath away once I rest my eyes on this unique scenery. Night and day will give you two completely different views, but both are equally exiting.

Manhattan Skyline from the Q

Manhattan in the fog

As you can tell, the Q-train is originally diverse. I have seldom seen so many different cultural and ethnic backgrounds than on this train. And surprisingly, I have even less witnessed a fight on the Q despite these different backgrounds being squeezed into each other each every morning and evening, forced to look a complete stranger in the eye or being exposed to a body distance that can be regarded as uncomfortable in other circumstances.

The F-Train hosts a very different crowd. Forget about the Haitian, Russian, and even Latin groups. What you have left is a standard ride on this transportation. Just like its yellow counterpart, it also leads from Coney Island all the way up into Manhattan. It doesn’t stop at the border of Queens, though, but goes even further and hereby forms the train that leads the furthest into Queens with its final stop being Jamaica. From here you can access a bus or take a taxi to get to the airports LaGuardia and JFK.

I live close to two of the stops the F makes in Park Slope. When I enter the train in the morning it is usually already crammed full and I can barely get a seat, of course. On my way to Midtown, the train makes several interesting stops: Cobble Hill, Dumbo, the heart of Chinatown at East Broadway, and along the Village and Chelsea up to Herald Square. The Park Slope stops are home to people in their twens or parents with younger children. You get to hear French fathers practicing conversation in their native language with their stubborn childs or dark nannies taking care of blonde infants. The snobbish and stressed people get in at Cobble Hill and they take almost every single standing spot left in this train. From there on, the ride turns into an adventure of trying to find your balance while searching for something to hold on. A crowd from the midst of Brooklyn joins at Jay-St Metrotech, coming from the A and C lines. Even though both blue lines don’t have a great vibe, the F train is not affected by this through its newly-gained commuters.

Some creative people walk into the train in Dumbo at York Street. If you get off here, you should take a nice stroll down to the Brooklyn Bridge and the two parks around it. The commuters who are the most interesting come into play in the Lower East Side: Unique looking, younger artists, bartenders, or simply people who have the air of enjoying their lives.
At W4 the madness starts as travelers are jumping out of the car to either dive into an express orange line or to run upstairs to catch the blue lines, which are running along 8th Ave.
During the entire ride you don’t see any skyline or view on Manhattan. You get to know Brooklyn better from Smith-9th St on, because the train sometimes runs above the ground from then on.

A positive thing about the F is that its energy is decent. The Q was transmitting angry vibes on most mornings I took it. I hardly even wanted to bump into anyone because I was scared this might make some Haitian woman yell at me. From Parkside Ave on the doors let in socially disadvantaged mommies with their not-very-well-behaved children. I hated it! I didn’t know where to look and what to think of these people. On the F I feel more like where I belong. Sure, you got your share of rude people, I’ll give you that! But as long as you don’t experience the fear of being harassed or screamed at, you’re good on your commute.

When I took the Q again earlier this week, I felt that their crowd might still be very much interesting and it is definitely still unique in my eyes.
Trains in New York- they tell their own story.

Life in Park Slope

After living in Park Slope for over 5 months now, I consider this area worth a thoughtful review. So, to keep it short: Park Slope is great!
Park Slope is big, too. The entire neighborhood ranges well over 35 street blocks and 5 avenue blocks. It goes from the Atlantic Ave Center to the South Slope, which is the part considered around 20th St; from 4th to 9th Avenue. I live on 7th Ave, close to the F-train, and not too far from the R-train, either (it tends to switch to the D and N train on the weekend, but only if you least expect it to and almost always when you don’t need any of those lines!).
The area is often called the next “in-area.” I think it has carried this label for the past 10 years and it has led many new people to move in who want to live in a nice area in Brooklyn, but who do not want to pay the rent asked for in Brooklyn Heights or Williamsburg. Often, the Slope and Williamsburg are up for comparison, for whatever reason I am still unsure, but I can reassure you that there is nothing that comes even close to each neighborhood’s very own flair. Williamsburg is rather small, since it only stretches over about one third of the blocks the Slope does, and it has the famous Bedford Avenue which is notorious for one bar slammed right next to the other. The rents have risen drastically in the past 10 to 15 years; at about the same time hipsters, artists, and rich people have discovered what a raw diamond it might be. Right now you would pay for the same amount of space the same amount of money you can get in a compatible neighborhood in Manhattan. Is it worth moving to W-burg if you could just as well stay in the LES or some other urban area? I am not sure.

Park Slope’s rental prices are still more on the affordable end compared to the Bedford area fiasco. Sure, they have had their share of rise and fall, and even more of a rental price increase within the past 10 years. But you can still sneak in there and get a good deal, especially when you are willing to share an apartment and commit to roommates.
The area of Park Slope I call my home has everything a young heart could ask for and, in addition, it offers an oasis of peace for the times I have been worn out by the City and beaten up by rushed people, chaos, and noise. A change of scenery is always welcome and this is what the Slope can give me thoroughly. It is a safe area, with many families, young people, and not too much ethnic diversity, which I do not consider a bad thing in this case. Don’t get me wrong, I am totally for the real experience of New York, the mixed cultural groups, and the different languages spoken. But ethnic diversity can also cause conflicts and other negative aspects, and I am not looking for trouble in a neighborhood I want to live in for an extended period of time. I have been through this in my previous living situation.
As soon as I get off the train, I am surrounded by cute little shops, small restaurants (and these are ethnically diverse, in case you wondered), and bars. I can actually walk to my apartment without being hit on by Haitian guys or being robbed, insulted, spat at. It took me about a month to adjust to this newly-gained freedom – a freedom even greater than when living on one’s own: The freedom of just being who you are and no one caring about this or trying to hinder you because of feelings of inferiority and jealousy. During the winter my roommates and I went to check out the bars on our avenue and around our block because we didn’t feel like going all the way into Manhattan. We found a cute European-style bar not too far away, which was opened up by an Austrian guy from Vienna, so it supports a concept I am familiar with. We usually check out their great happy hour deals and hop in after brunch on the weekends. There are at least four other bars in close proximity to where we live and we really enjoy just going for a drink and getting to know new people who come from other parts of Brooklyn, sometimes.

If 7th Ave gets too boring, you still have the choice to go down to 5th Ave or make your way up to 9th Ave, which offers some interesting dining spots and drinking establishments, too. I usually pay 5th Ave a visit because of its 99ct stores, a vintage shop, and cheaper nail manicure. My heart still lightens up at the prospect of having my nails done for less than 10 dollars in New York. It is so unbelievably cheap compared to Germany and this not only because of the Euro to Dollar conversion.

Williamsburg might have its hipsters, its artists, its overpriced apartments, its ghetto right next door, some Polish flair coming from the nearby Greenpoint area, and Bedford Ave. But Park Slope has even better, we have Prospect Park! And I, coming from a small village, being surrounded by nature practically 24/7, and knowing what cows and goats look AND feel like, well, I would have never thought of what great use a park in New York can be. Until I moved here and was surrounded by one more endless-seeming street after another, one skyscraper taller than the other, one car noisier and faster than the other… in short: an enormous, never-ending, loud, chaotic jungle made of concrete, tar, glass and nothing even close to resembling nature in its purest form. So it is off to the park on days you just need a time-out, sit in the grass, and count the clouds in the sky. Prospect Park is designed by the very same people who have created Central Park and, some say, whatever they were unable to include in Manhattan they have added in an improved form in Brooklyn. I consider this to be a nice story and it makes the park very unique. It borders not only on Park Slope but also Crown Heights, Flatbush, and Fort Hamilton on the opposing sides. I once wanted to know how big this park really is, not only in numerical terms but in terms I could define by myself, so one winter day I decided to go for a stroll and ended up walking around the entire park. Besides some fresh air, I took some nice pictures, which are yours to share.

This was after our first big snowfall of the season in early January of 2011. Yes, the one that left us with 20 inches of snow, three days of a poorly working metro system, and one day off from work for me. Here is a good shot of what it looks like after a full-blown blizzard has hit New York for 24 hours straight.

And for your information, it took me roughly 2 hours to make my way through the beautiful, snowed up walks from starting point A back to starting point A – all the way around.
Park Slope is definitely always worth the visit and I am one lucky bird for living here and finally being able to appreciate being a resident of Brooklyn. I wouldn’t want to change it for anything right now. Until something more interesting comes along, that is.