Mayor's Weekly Address:A Trip to Jamaica via the F train

I have tried -- oh, how I've tried -- to stave off my urges to rail against the world. But the O.O. was right, and my recent move to New York City was bound to awaken the beast within sooner or later. It has been exactly 79 hours since I’ve arrived in the city, and mocking Precious Moments figurines no longer satisfies my anger. After the jump, I share the story of a recent (and unfortunately memorable) trip in the style of the more irascible Mayor’s Weekly Address.

To begin, I’m not really living in anything that could qualify as a city. That’s because I’m living in Queens, which, in case you’ve never had the pleasure, is like Long Island’s parasitic twin. That is, it’s essentially a suburb within city limits that provides a home to Growing up Gotti extras.

I am living in the Jamaica section of Queens, in a dorm on a college campus. I’ll try to protect the anonymity of this campus – let me call it Craptown U. No wait, that’s too obvious, let’s just call it S. John. I am living at S. John during my training for a teaching program, and as such must follow the draconian housing rules set forth by the campus or risk losing both my housing and my place in the program. Most notably these rules prohibit me from drinking alcohol in my room or anywhere on campus, and from entertaining guests (of any gender) in my dorm at any time. What I lose in freedom, however, I gain in nausea as caused by S. John’s food service. Thanks to S. John I will finally be able to kick some of my more pesky habits, like drinking moderately, socializing, and eating.

S. John’s best attribute is most certainly its proximity to Manhattan. S. John is about 45 minutes away from the Lower East Side of Manhattan, and this pleasant trip includes a bus ride and a subway trip. If you want to go anywhere else in Manhattan besides the 63rd and Lex stop on the F train, however, it’s probably going to take you a bit longer. For example, today I traveled to the East Village, and it took me about one hour. My trip home, however, took approximately 2 and half hours.

The trip home began with a very long wait for the F train at the 14th st station, during which I had to put up with numerous entreaties from a lonely gentleman named Clyde. Apparently if I show up at Union Square sometime between 3 and 5 pm, Clyde will treat me to pizza and some disgusting sexual acts. As I paused to consider if the nausea I felt was caused by Clyde or the chicken nuggets I had eaten at the S. John cafeteria earlier that day, the F train finally arrived.

The trip started out normally enough as the car was filled with people I expected to see traveling back to Queens at about 11 o’clock at night: a man baring a striking resemblance to Dan Akroyd in the two wild and crazy guys sketch, and also a 19 year old trying unsuccessfully to conceal his alcoholic beverage. However, once the train passed into Queens it began to move slowly, until finally it ground to a halt at the Jackson Hts station, which should be about 10 minutes from the stop at which I wanted to disembark. From the Jackson Hts stop, the F train took 60 minutes to go 6 stops before finally forcing all the passengers off the train. After boarding another train and traveling another 10 minutes, I was finally able to just catch a cab back to S. John, no doubt shortening my trip by 30 minutes.

I’m still not quite certain why the F train was not running it’s normal route. The F train conductor made a few muffled and garbled announcements over the PA system, but they only puzzled me and enraged the Wild and Crazy guy. Each announcement sounded like the conductor had shoved a microphone into his anus before speaking, and then used a phonograph to transmit his message.

The end result of this misbegotten trek is that I'll be avoiding the F train, as well as Union Square park, as much as possible in the future. I used my time on the F train wisely -- I wrote this entry on post-its. I cannot promise a steady flow of Weekly Addresses, but if the city continues to confine me in the subway for hours at end, anything is possible.

The Mayor writes for the Bathtub every Thursday morning. For more information click here.

Comments

[D.C.]

My end result of your misbegotten trek is that I'll be avoiding New York City even more now! Thank you!

[Lauren]

I heard on the radio today that the blackouts in New York yesterday caused backups of several hours on the subway. I did not, however, hear anything about a young woman known only as "the mayor" being stalked and killed by a man authorities identified as "Clyde," so let's call it a win.

[Jerome]

Ah, it is good to hear the Mayor's voice again.

[Irina]

Yes, I believe Lauren is right about the blackouts. They may have been the source of the delays.

However, in true welcoming fashion, all I have to say to you is, "WELCOME TO NEW YORK".
Which is a loose translation of "get used to it".

[Inactive account]

Have you watched "Coming to America" yet?

[NY lawyer]

Perhaps next time you are sitting underground on the F train you could think bout how to model your life after the two most famous Queens residents to live along the F line (Queensbridge project stop), Nas and Ron Artest.

[Inactive account]

In Queens, I only have experience with the 7 train unfortunately.

[The Mayor]

I think that the delays were actually caused by flooding in some stations in Queens. I guess I'll never know, though, since no subway employees were telling me what happened.

After much contemplation about how to model my life after Nas and Ron Artest, I think I'm going to buy a sex house, then I'm going to tatoo Kelis' naked torso onto my forearm. Finally, I'm going to release a rap album that will sell fewer copies than K. Fed's.