LJ Idol Season 10, Week 2, Brushback Pitch
New York City. The Big Apple. The City that Never Sleeps. The City of Dreams.
This city is one hell of a pitcher, and I, as the batter, have had quite a few close calls. I think I just keep getting a little too close to the plate, and she keeps throwing one brushback pitch after another.
My first trip to New York City was with my seventh grade English class. We had just finished reading Les Miserables (the unabridged version, which, in my opinion, is a bit much for most 13-year-olds) and were going to see the musical on Broadway. I was nervous. After all, my mother pretty much told me that NYC is the most dangerous city on the planet and I was going to be murdered there. Luckily, I wasn't murdered. I did, however, get flipped off by Santa Claus. We were on the top of a double decker tour bus, saw Santa, screamed and waved, and were greeted with two middle fingers and a, "Fuck all you kids! Go to hell!" He may have been drunk.
My next trip to New York was with my eighth grade class, again to see Les Miserables. Different school than the last one, and we were reading the same unabridged version. Having experienced NYC before, I was prepared for an angry Santa. I was not, however, prepared for what I saw in a McDonalds bathroom. Here's a tip: Don't go to the bathroom alone. Anywhere. Ever. I left my group of friends and opened the women's room door. There, in the middle of the bathroom, was a naked woman with a vibrator. I decided I didn't really need to pee.
My mother took me back to NYC for my 16th birthday. The entire trip was awesome. We did Times Square, I met up with a friend, and I saw Les Mis again because it's the best thing that has ever happened. We took a train from New Jersey into New York so we didn't have to worry about parking and driving in the city. We got off the train in New Jersey, at about 11pm., and my mother realized she left her car keys in the hotel room back in New York. The train station was closed. We were alone at a train station in New Jersey. She called a friend and they came to pick us up. We were seriously doubting my ability to leave NYC unscathed.
But then. Oh, but then. We went back. My mother, brother, sister and I went to New York City on August 14, 2003. We got to our hotel room in Times Square, unloaded our bags, and hopped in a taxi to Battery Park so we could visit the Statue of Liberty. It was a beautiful, albeit hot, day.
We were on Liberty Island for maybe 20 minutes when we saw about a dozen police officers, arm in arm to form a line, leading people back to the ferry line. What's going on, you ask? Why, they're evacuating the island! Why? They wouldn't tell us. But we needed to get off the island. Immediately. We got in line to board the ferry and...it left without us. It was full, and we were in the front of the line waiting for it to come back and pick us up.
Keep in mind this was less than two years after 9/11.
Oh, and I was 19, my brother was 15, and my sister was 11. Plus, I've only got one kidney, so dehydration is especially bad for me. My brother has a serious heart condition and is on the Autism spectrum. And was almost 100 degrees out.
Seriously, New York, I don't mind a brushback pitch every now and then, but I'd really rather not get hit by the ball. Those things hurt.
We finally got to back to the main land. My mother sent me with my brother and sister to get something to drink while she talked to a police officer. We were still waiting in line when she ushered us away. "They think it's terrorists. We have to get out of the city. Come on. We're going back to the hotel."
Anybody know how far it is to Times Square? About 6 miles. We were so not walking that.
But there were no taxis available. Traffic was at a standstill. NOTHING was moving, at all. My mother approached another police officer, explained mine and my brother's health conditions, and the officer said, "Lady, even if they were dead in the street right now, I couldn't get an ambulance to you."
So we started walking. Very, very slowly. I was okay, my brother and sister were not. He was about to pass out and she was panicking. But wait! Look over there! It's a bus! We ran over and I pounded on the door.
"Please, Mr. Bus Driver, can we get on?"
"No. We're going uptown to pick people up to bring them downtown."
"But you're empty."
"Yes."
"And you're going uptown."
"Yes."
"So can we get on?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because we have to pick up people uptown to bring them downtown."
Didn't make sense to us either.
No cabs, no buses, no way to get the nearly five miles (we'd walked about a mile now) to our hotel room.
Then, finally, New York City threw us a pitch we could hit.
A lady in a white 15-passenger van (think creepy, windowless pedophile vans you see on TV) was yelling that she and her husband would take us up to some street I can't remember that was only about 1/2 a mile from our hotel for $20 per person. My mother grabbed my brother and sister and screamed "GET IN THAT VAN!"
Mom opened the sliding door and we got in. There were no seats except for one in the very back that was occupied by three tourists who moved their legs so we could squeeze in on the floor of this van. This van that was not moving because of the traffic.
During the drive, we learn that terrorists have not attacked the city. The city has, however, lost power, and nobody knows why. So maybe it is terrorists after all.
Pretty soon, maybe an hour and five blocks later, the tourists decided they'd had enough of this bullshit and got out to walk. My brother wasn't feeling well so he laid down on the seat in the back. My mother explained to the lady about his heart condition, and this wonderfully kind woman hopped out of the barely-moving van and came back ten minutes (and six feet) later with bottles of water for all of us. She didn't ask us to pay for them.
SIX HOURS later, this couple with the van arrived at our decided drop-off location and kept going. They told us they would take us to our hotel. It was nearly 11pm at this point and they didn't want us walking the streets of New York in a blackout. When we arrived, they refused to take my mother's money that was promised for the ride. I was the last one out of the van after helping my brother, so when the woman wasn't looking, I tossed the only cash I had into the front passenger seat - a $20 bill.
We finally got to our hotel and realization dawned on us. NYC had a few more of those pesky pitches up her sleeve. Our room was on the 10th floor. Guess what doesn't work when there is no power.
Elevators.
The hotel staff was carrying flashlights and taking people up the stairs in small groups. After nearly two hours of sitting in the lobby, it was our turn to climb TEN FLIGHTS OF STAIRS to our room. I don't know how we did it.
But we arrived. We were exhausted, but we finally had beds to sleep in.
And, just for good measure, NYC decided to throw one, final pitch to make sure we never crowded her plate again.
"Since the power's out, don't flush the toilet. Put your toilet paper in the trash," the somehow cheerful hotel employee tells us before closing our hotel room door.
This city is one hell of a pitcher, and I, as the batter, have had quite a few close calls. I think I just keep getting a little too close to the plate, and she keeps throwing one brushback pitch after another.
My first trip to New York City was with my seventh grade English class. We had just finished reading Les Miserables (the unabridged version, which, in my opinion, is a bit much for most 13-year-olds) and were going to see the musical on Broadway. I was nervous. After all, my mother pretty much told me that NYC is the most dangerous city on the planet and I was going to be murdered there. Luckily, I wasn't murdered. I did, however, get flipped off by Santa Claus. We were on the top of a double decker tour bus, saw Santa, screamed and waved, and were greeted with two middle fingers and a, "Fuck all you kids! Go to hell!" He may have been drunk.
My next trip to New York was with my eighth grade class, again to see Les Miserables. Different school than the last one, and we were reading the same unabridged version. Having experienced NYC before, I was prepared for an angry Santa. I was not, however, prepared for what I saw in a McDonalds bathroom. Here's a tip: Don't go to the bathroom alone. Anywhere. Ever. I left my group of friends and opened the women's room door. There, in the middle of the bathroom, was a naked woman with a vibrator. I decided I didn't really need to pee.
My mother took me back to NYC for my 16th birthday. The entire trip was awesome. We did Times Square, I met up with a friend, and I saw Les Mis again because it's the best thing that has ever happened. We took a train from New Jersey into New York so we didn't have to worry about parking and driving in the city. We got off the train in New Jersey, at about 11pm., and my mother realized she left her car keys in the hotel room back in New York. The train station was closed. We were alone at a train station in New Jersey. She called a friend and they came to pick us up. We were seriously doubting my ability to leave NYC unscathed.
But then. Oh, but then. We went back. My mother, brother, sister and I went to New York City on August 14, 2003. We got to our hotel room in Times Square, unloaded our bags, and hopped in a taxi to Battery Park so we could visit the Statue of Liberty. It was a beautiful, albeit hot, day.
We were on Liberty Island for maybe 20 minutes when we saw about a dozen police officers, arm in arm to form a line, leading people back to the ferry line. What's going on, you ask? Why, they're evacuating the island! Why? They wouldn't tell us. But we needed to get off the island. Immediately. We got in line to board the ferry and...it left without us. It was full, and we were in the front of the line waiting for it to come back and pick us up.
Keep in mind this was less than two years after 9/11.
Oh, and I was 19, my brother was 15, and my sister was 11. Plus, I've only got one kidney, so dehydration is especially bad for me. My brother has a serious heart condition and is on the Autism spectrum. And was almost 100 degrees out.
Seriously, New York, I don't mind a brushback pitch every now and then, but I'd really rather not get hit by the ball. Those things hurt.
We finally got to back to the main land. My mother sent me with my brother and sister to get something to drink while she talked to a police officer. We were still waiting in line when she ushered us away. "They think it's terrorists. We have to get out of the city. Come on. We're going back to the hotel."
Anybody know how far it is to Times Square? About 6 miles. We were so not walking that.
But there were no taxis available. Traffic was at a standstill. NOTHING was moving, at all. My mother approached another police officer, explained mine and my brother's health conditions, and the officer said, "Lady, even if they were dead in the street right now, I couldn't get an ambulance to you."
So we started walking. Very, very slowly. I was okay, my brother and sister were not. He was about to pass out and she was panicking. But wait! Look over there! It's a bus! We ran over and I pounded on the door.
"Please, Mr. Bus Driver, can we get on?"
"No. We're going uptown to pick people up to bring them downtown."
"But you're empty."
"Yes."
"And you're going uptown."
"Yes."
"So can we get on?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because we have to pick up people uptown to bring them downtown."
Didn't make sense to us either.
No cabs, no buses, no way to get the nearly five miles (we'd walked about a mile now) to our hotel room.
Then, finally, New York City threw us a pitch we could hit.
A lady in a white 15-passenger van (think creepy, windowless pedophile vans you see on TV) was yelling that she and her husband would take us up to some street I can't remember that was only about 1/2 a mile from our hotel for $20 per person. My mother grabbed my brother and sister and screamed "GET IN THAT VAN!"
Mom opened the sliding door and we got in. There were no seats except for one in the very back that was occupied by three tourists who moved their legs so we could squeeze in on the floor of this van. This van that was not moving because of the traffic.
During the drive, we learn that terrorists have not attacked the city. The city has, however, lost power, and nobody knows why. So maybe it is terrorists after all.
Pretty soon, maybe an hour and five blocks later, the tourists decided they'd had enough of this bullshit and got out to walk. My brother wasn't feeling well so he laid down on the seat in the back. My mother explained to the lady about his heart condition, and this wonderfully kind woman hopped out of the barely-moving van and came back ten minutes (and six feet) later with bottles of water for all of us. She didn't ask us to pay for them.
SIX HOURS later, this couple with the van arrived at our decided drop-off location and kept going. They told us they would take us to our hotel. It was nearly 11pm at this point and they didn't want us walking the streets of New York in a blackout. When we arrived, they refused to take my mother's money that was promised for the ride. I was the last one out of the van after helping my brother, so when the woman wasn't looking, I tossed the only cash I had into the front passenger seat - a $20 bill.
We finally got to our hotel and realization dawned on us. NYC had a few more of those pesky pitches up her sleeve. Our room was on the 10th floor. Guess what doesn't work when there is no power.
Elevators.
The hotel staff was carrying flashlights and taking people up the stairs in small groups. After nearly two hours of sitting in the lobby, it was our turn to climb TEN FLIGHTS OF STAIRS to our room. I don't know how we did it.
But we arrived. We were exhausted, but we finally had beds to sleep in.
And, just for good measure, NYC decided to throw one, final pitch to make sure we never crowded her plate again.
"Since the power's out, don't flush the toilet. Put your toilet paper in the trash," the somehow cheerful hotel employee tells us before closing our hotel room door.