That was my thought process over the past couple of weeks. So Becca and I went down to the city this weekend. She's been pestering me about moving to NY and how she doesn't know if she could make the transition and she hates the subway and blah blah blah. So I e-mailed my grandmother looking for suggestions, and Saturday morning, while Becca was sleeping, I put together a photo scavenger hunt. Basically, we went from my Grammy's place in Washington Heights to various places around NYC and got Becca oriented on the subway. She had to figure out her own transfers, and how to get cross-town, and we took pictures in front of various landmarks, like the Astor Place cube.
The day was marred by the fact that Becca's car was smashed when we returned. Some car service asshole in a Lincoln Towncar smashed into the car parked next to hers (we think), smashing that car into the side of her tiny Scion. It knocked her car up on the curb, breaking the bead on her rear driver's side tire in the process (flattening it). Both of the other cars were gone when we found hers, so we had a few sketchy eyewitnesses and my own forensic detecting to go by. Then we got to wait 90 minutes for NY's finest to send a car out our way, while a few cops stopped and said they'd heard it already called in and countless others drove by refusing to stop (yes, we hailed them). Not their finest moment. After the cops arrived, AAA said they'd dispatch a tow truck (they wouldn't do it until speaking to a cop). So we'd left the house a little after 5pm to go to dinner with my mother in NJ, and were waiting until 8:40 for a tow. Becca lost most of the enthusiasm she'd gained for NYC earlier that day. Someone left a note in her car (her passenger door was bent concave, leaving a space at the top betweent the door and the frame) saying they got some blurry camera (probably cameraphone) pics of the accident. Maybe we will have a plate #.
So for now we are a 0 car household. =O She doesn't even own a bicycle. I'm hoping it doesn't take too long to fix her car. I'm sure it's going to need a new passenger side door. My guess is two weekends. We took it to a body shop my grandmother's been to before, and she said they're very good. Hopefully, we will not be jerked around by them OR by the insurance company.
We took the Amtrak regional train home Sunday morning at 10. Becca just wanted to get home to relax. The train would have put us in South Station at about 2:31; just in time to miss the 2:30 commuter rail train home. But the Amtrak train stopped at the Back Bay station (which I've never actually been in, just past on my way to S. Station) where I deduced we could catch the commuter rail train home. So we basically got off the train at 2:26 to catch the 2:30 MBCR train at 2:36. Ok, that probably makes no sense because I'm too tired to tell it all dramatically and cleverly and so on, but trust me, it was all sorts of smugly awesome at the time. So we ended up getting home around three, instead of having to wait at South Station for 2 hours to catch the 4:30 (getting home then at 5pm). Relaxation ensued.
I was off on Monday (4-day weekend). I'll be damned if I can tell you what I did with it, though. I am one lazy motherfucker. Why do my vacations always leave me needing a vacation? Srsly, on my average weekend, I'm usually rested and energized about 4pm on Sunday. Which leaves me frustrated with going to work on Monday because I want to do stuff around the house. This weekend wasn't any better. In fact, it was worse.
But the subway scavenger hunt thing? An unqualified success. I'll drag my girl to NY kicking and screaming if I have to, but I'm hoping not to have to. I told her, while we were waiting for her car to be attended to: "This is why we won't be living in NYC. It's also [part of the reason] why no one drives in NYC." Unless you can afford garaging. In which case you probably pronounce it GARE-ozh.