The Perfect Place to Be After the Apocalypse
CNN is reporting that the Transit Workers have reached a tentative agreement to return to work by Saturday. Three days and they folded. I can only imagine that the required court appearance didn't go well today for Roger Toussaint. For those of you unfamiliar with Roger, he is the local TWU president, and quite possibly the least articulate person in the city of New York to hold a job that doesn't require standing beside a steaming food cart. Because he has repeatedly been seen muttering gibberish to a roomful of reporters on the local news this week, Monkey has begun referring to him simply as "Jamaica McMumbles."
The end of the strike brings bad news as well as good. Walking to work today the sidewalks were actually navigable, the stores were not overrun with impatient assholes and the streets were not teeming with delivery trucks trying to run me over to make a yellow light. I was reminded of Times Square weeks after 9/11. For the first time since my arrival, the experience of walking down Broadway was tolerable. I had no urge to punch anyone in the face. You could travel in a strait line without having to circumvent an obese family from some state where fanny packs were still the rage, or some idiot standing still in the middle of the crosswalk operating a lit Marlboro and a cell phone. It's sad but true. The only time New York is a pleasure to be in is after disaster strikes and half of it's occupants are removed.