It Happened Last Night

I submitted this listing to Craigslist’s Missed Connections:

Downtown D Train around 7:45 p.m., Thurs., 4/6 THANKS
Reply to: pers-306975493@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-04-06, 1:13AM EDT

Tonight, I found out the hard way that projectile vomit isn’t just a special effect from “The Exorcist.” I thought I’d be able to make it off the D train at Broadway-Lafayette but trying to hold it in just made it worse. After I threw up (explosively) on the train, a few passengers scurried away in disgust.

But some of you came through for me. I would like to thank the woman who gave me a plastic bag so I could clean up, the men who handed me wads of napkins, the train conductor who came out of his compartment to ask if I was OK, and above all, the red-haired guy who actually helped me clean up my mess. Your kindness was unexpected, and I can’t thank you enough.

And for those who were wondering but chose to mind their own business, I apologize for having overdone it. I’d given blood for the first time only half an hour earlier. I thought I was good to go but apparently losing one pint of blood does take a toll on one’s body, and I should have rested more before returning to my feet. (Not to discourage anyone from donating blood–just remember to give your body time to recover!)

*Location: D Train

No, it was not a fun experience. Yes, I’m feeling better.

A Conversation at Work

Me, standing on scale: Is this number right?
Ricardo: Well, you might want to take off about four pounds from whatever the scale says.
Me: Oh, is the scale off by a little bit?
Ricardo: No, because you have a box in your arms.

I had a box of Mini Moos (creamers), which I’d just grabbed from the supply cabinet. It totally slipped my mind that I was still holding onto that box when I stepped onto the scale. I can be an idiot sometimes.

Adventures in New York

I love exploring New York. Here are some photos I took of the city in summer 2005:

Candles inside St. John the Divine

View looking back toward the beach from a pier at Coney Island. (And no, Coney Island is not an island.)

The Cyclone, a wooden rollercoaster, which I rode, at Coney Island. Wooden rollercoasters are the best.

Jellyfish at the Brooklyn Aquarium, in Coney Island. I love jellyfish, even if I can’t hug them.

A view from Inwood, at the northern tip of Manhattan

A street performer in Washington Square Park spins his twin brother on his head!

Fried clams from Johnny’s, at the end of the bus line on City Island. (And yes, City Island is an island–in the Bronx!) From Brooklyn, it took me two and a half hours to reach City Island by public transportation. If you make the trip, take some reading material.

I still need to check out Roosevelt Island, Governors Island, and Long Island City, among other places in New York City. Hopefully more photos to follow.

The Last Frontier

Of course, once I sit down to write in my blog, I completely forget what it was that I wanted to write about.

I’ve been thinking about swimming lately, probably because it’s been so hot. The weird thing is that I haven’t really swam (swum?) in years, and I don’t really remember how.

When I went off to college, I had to take a swim test along with all the incoming students. I had some misgivings, as the last time I’d gone swimming prior to that was maybe when I was 10 or so, when I took swim lessons one summer. I was never a strong swimmer, but I could do 25-50 meters if I pushed myself.

When it came to my turn, I tried to start off with the crawl. I have no idea what I did exactly. I made it to the other side of the tiny pool, but I seemed to have gotten there with a lot of splashing and flailing. Pretty embarrassing, as there were still several lines of people waiting to take the test. I couldn’t seem to coordinate my breathing and the movement of my arms. I finished the required laps doing the back stroke but since then I haven’t tried swimming again.

I find the water very mystical, for lack of a better word. I once described to a friend how, when I think about being out on the surface of the ocean, or in the middle of the deep sea, I feel agoraphobic. I typically never have that feeling in wide open spaces on land, but there’s something that both terrifies and fascinates me about water.

On land, one can look up to forever. When it’s really dark, one can still hear when something flies overhead. But life in the sunless depths of the ocean seems oppressive to me–all that liquid around you, this forceful presence limiting vision and distorting sound. (I once read that the bottom of the sea, as opposed to space, is the last frontier. We’re still discovering life in places that we’d thought uninhabitable.)

So, I’m slightly scared of swimming. But sometimes, for lack of being able to fly, I dream of lithely curving through the water like a dolphin, free and quick and without bounds…

Odds and Ends Pt. 4

A man tries to make paper by referring to a poem. Learn about the results in his hilarious report “Recipe for Paper,” which recently aired on public radio program Studio 360.

Goto Reviews, which bills itself as “A Guide to the Most Efficient Things in the World,” is a nifty site. For example, it made a reference to the “Mealbox” table. The chairs and table are all shaped in such a way that they can be stacked together and packed into a box.

And thanks to dan dan noodles for his concern. When I tripped, it was on a poorly lit, nearly empty block. A guy walking in the other direction turned around and asked me if I was OK, and that was about it, no snickering or laughs that I could hear. Incidentally, today around lunchtime, I was walking down 14th Street, which some of you know as one of the major crosstown streets in New York, when an older woman in front of me tripped and fell. The gentleman who’d been walking in front of her and I stopped to make sure she wasn’t hurt, but she seemed more embarrassed than anything else, her sunglasses sitting askew on her nose.