sometimes I hate the subway...

The weekends and the subway are often a bad combination...lots of places to go, and trains running slowly, and a variety of interesting and puzzling last-minute changes, not always posted or announced. I check the MTA web site for closures, and still...

So I need to get to the UWS, a place a rarely go. My map shows that the D,B and AC go there. The B doesn't run on weekends. So D, or A or C. I should be able to transfer to any of these from the F. Good stuff.

First, in the F station there are huge hand-written signs over all the turnstyles that the F downtown to brooklyn does NOT stop here....so good luck getting to Brooklyn. I go uptown to W4 and the C train isn't running (it's suppose to be, but there is a closure). The C is the "local" one that stops on every stop -- and I need a local stop to get to 72nd street. So the C is out.

The B, and C are now out. So it's down to the D or the A. Now the question -- are the D and A local or express? I need local.

I ask a couple people and they say the D is local. I thought I remembered it being express, but on the weekends the trains can do anything they want, so I take their word for it. And the D skips from 59th street all the way up to 125th Street. Harlem. Terrific. Stuck in Harlem. I now need to wait for something going downtown that stops at 72nd street -- not the D. Not the  B, or the C. 

The A is all that is left. The A is actually running locally today -- woo hoo. Which means that I now get to stop at every stop, slowly from 125th street back down to 72nd....116, 103, 96, 86, 81.....wasting more time. Finally, I get to 72nd.

The I try to go home. Should be easy enough -- take the A, which is running on the C track (local), back downtown to west 4, where I transferred, and get the F. I'm still not sure if the F will drop me off at the 2nd ave stop (remember those signs from when I left?) But if nothing else, the stop before isn't far and I can get off there.

I go and wait for the F. They announce the F is running on the A track going downtown. So the say to go upstairs (so, basically don't wait for the F at the sign that says "F" but go upstairs to where a different train stops and wait there). So I go upstairs. Now, does this mean I actually take the "A" train and the train will know to take me to the F stops? The A pulls up and a few people ask me this and I'm not sure. Just then, the F pulls up behind us on the other track, so we all take that. Great! The F is here and it can take me the one stop home.

Once on the train they announce the F will not stop in Manhattan at all. Instead, it will take us several stops into Brooklyn, where we can then get out, cross the platform by going up and down the stairs, and wait for an F going to Manhattan. So here I go maybe 30 more mintutes, or more, all the way into brooklyn, wait for a train going back, just to go the equivalent of one stop. It took me about an hour and 10 minutes to get from the upper west side at 72nd street, back to houston and second ave. Something that really shouldn't take more than 30 mintues, 40 at the most with transferring...the way there took about an hour and 40 minutes total, including my trip to Harlem.

Sometimes, I hate the subway.

A shooting on my block and the ER (not related)

I haven't blogged in a bit, as nothing has been "blog-worthy."

This week had some interesting things.

1) I thought I had a heart attack, but luckily didn't. For a few hours I was half-asleep and aware my heart was pounding,  chest was tight and then my right hand went numb. Gotta say that freaked me out. I figured it was nothing and got up and walked around. Then the numbness started creeping up my arm.

I freak out and call my mom, who gives me the phone number to a nurse line. They tell me to call 911 or go to the ER, which I tell them I don't want to do. I say it isn't that bad. They say there is no way to tell, and of course I can wait until morning, but of course heart attacks in women can have very mild symptoms (the same symptoms I have). I'd also started taking a common medication recently that has numb hand/leg as a symptom of many bad things. I call my doctor and she says the same thing. 

I debate, I walk around my studio, I weight the pros/cons of catching a cab to an ER (I hate hospitals and had never even been in an ER before). I decide it's best to not risk dying alone in my tiny studio, go outside at 4:30am and catch a cab to the local hospital (they don't have "urgent care" here in NYC like they do in AZ). I figure, they'll listen to my heart really quick and send me back home.

So they have me fill something out and immediately go back, leaving behind 4 or 5 half-asleep people sitting in the waiting room. They listen to my heart (like I expected). I eagerly wait for them to say "yeah, nothing! Go home."

Instead, they prick my finger, diabetes-style for a blood sugar test. They throw a gown at me and slide a hospital bracel around my wrist. They show me to my ER-style room (looks just like on TV w/ that curtain around it). I'm deer-in-headlights confused why I haven't been sent home yet, and why is everyone being so nice to me? I'd prefer some NYC rudeness to confirm I am OK!

So I'm half-laying on this stretcher type thing in my little "room," not wanting to fully put my legs up on it as that would make me look all patient-like, when I'm not even sure if I have anything wrong. My heart is still pounding though and hand still numb. It's nice to know if I were to die, someone here would notice and give my parents a call. Not true of the studio, where I might rot for a week or so. 

I finally get tired and lie on it fully. Various doctors and nurses and some random crazy guy come by and shake my hand. They send the crazy guy back to his "room." He comes back and I point towards his room and say "you should go back now."

They take me to do various tests, an EKG where they hook up those sticky things to your chest, a urine test, an Xray (I'm trying to figure out how that could help?). 

I wait for three hours in the little room, and at this point start to worry. Why didn't they just listen to my heart and send me home? I'm thinking that screw it, whatever they need to do is fine. I wonder what they even do for a heart attack anyway? Surgery or something? I wouldn't really mind. I mean, I'd probably live and if not, I gave it my best shot.

This is strange to be in the ER in NYC, I think. I was never into all of those doctor TV shows like ER. I'm just not very interested in medical things.

I'm kind of self conscious on this stretcher things w/ all these people walking by "working." I then realize that I am their "work," which is really odd. 

Finally they get the tests back the first one is fine. I say "So it's nothing?"

"I wouldn't say nothing, but it's not a heart attack," says the very nice doctor who is so calming he could probably tell me I am going to die in four hours and I'd be just fine with it. He is so calming it is almost making me nervous. I can tell he's an INFp personality type. They're good at that sort of thing.

Various other people come by and it's decided that I can go home and this was some weird fluke thing they can't explain. They say to come back if it happens again. I start wondering how much this has cost, which kinda freaks me out. Guess I'll get the bill in the mail. Still, it was worth confirming that I wasn't dying or anything.

I now think I may have gotten really dehydrated, as I've read that can have similar symptoms.

So I stumble into the now bright light of 7:30 am in the rush hour walkers with my hair sticking out and it's raining a bit. I walk home as there are no cabs anywhere, leaving a voicemail to my parents that apparently I'm just fine.

2) Shooting

So I come home today around 6ish, arms full of bags, really needing to pee as the starbucks line was just too long, lugging my heavy laptop. I see a bunch of cop cars. A crowd of people standing behind yellow police tape blocking off my entire block. I ask cops questions and they say I may be able to get to my apartment in a few minutes. I go to the front of the crowd, as the policeman said to ask the other guy, and then realize everyone else is waiting to go onto our block too. He then lowers the tape, as the crowd rushes. The tape gets caught on some older lady's shopping back and my ankle for a second. 

"Rush, rush, always rushing," says the cop in a Queens accent, as if he is any different.

We are allowed to only walk down one side of the street (not the side I live on). There are cops stationed every few feet down the entire block, just standing there and looking somewhat scary). 

I get to my apmt and nicely ask a couple of cops if I can go in and they say sure. Very nice of them. So I go in. There is a guy right behind me climbing the stairs a bit too fast which scares me for a second as they haven't yet found the shooter, but luckily he goes into his own apmt.

I hear a girl behind me on her cell saying "honey, I had to have a police escort let me into our apmt! yeah, can you believe that?"

The strange thing was that I was completely not bothered by this, not afraid of the "shooter" and instead wanted to get into my apmt the same way I would want to say, make sure I get my order taken at starbucks before the weird guy behind me pushes in line. It should have bothered me. But despite my block being fabulous (my section of my block is listed in those NYC "city walks" guides), it is safe but there are always thug-like people and teens standing around, and I'm sure somebody was just showing off. I don't think anyone was hit. Luckily though, I wasn't home at the time, as it was specifically on my side of the block that it happened. 

A lot can happen in a week I'd guess. I guess I'm slightly afraid to leave as it may be hard to come back to my apmt later, but I have to go meet a friend...