Strike, Day 2

Braved the walk to work this morning. Wasn’t so bad. What I’m not looking forward to is doing it again this evening. You know, if anyone had fears that NYC was losing its edge, a transit strike the week before Christmas is about as edgy as it gets.

Home, 63rd Street: This is not so bad. Not too cold out here. It’s been colder.
59th Street: Okay, I’m now glad I put on my leggings.
52nd Street: Oh yes! Totally forgot there would be random NYPD all over the place. Looks like this walk won’t be too terrible after all.
45th Street: There is a surprising lot of traffic for carpools-only allowed in the city.
42nd Street: 20 down, 30 to go.
38th Street: Just saw a guy on a razor scooter.
33rd Street: Mmm…more NYPD. Just what I ordered for breakfast.
24th Street: Wishing I had learned how to Rollerblade a little better.
18th Street: I’m officially a Sallycicle.
13th Street: Thank god for egg sandwiches and hot coffee.

Now I get to thaw out for a couple hours before setting out again tonight.

One thing I’ve learned from the strike: I need new sneakers.

On the way home, not too much more eventful, other than noticing that drunken tourists need to be extricated from the city during this strike. Or pushed onto 3rd Avenue traffic. They’re fucking up my stride, yo.

Here’s an incredibly grainy crap picture (taken via phone) of the loveliness that was 42nd Street this evening (looking west).