June 13th, rubber meets road

New York City is that place. That place where the rubber meets the road - however it may happen, it happens every minute of the day. Sometimes it's a wonderful event in all it's excitement and ferocity, sometimes it's just ugly and necessary and downright violent. I'm not sure what I'm talking about here, but it's the feeling of the day.

Take my morning commute to work: Last week, I'd tell you that I had the best bike ride of my entire life. 12 miles of pure joy. I start way up on Amsterdam and 101st, I cut over to Central Park. I ride south down the length of the park surrounded by trees and early morning joggers. At the south end, I join the commuters at Columbus Circle. Puffy is my beacon for a good ten blocks – I'm always looking up to the big Sean Combs billboard in Times Square. I dodge massive potholes, delivery trucks, diesel clouds, obnoxious buses, taxis, and pedestrian commuters all the way down Broadway, passing through Union Square, Soho, and the financial district, towards the Brooklyn Bridge. Across the bridge, Statue of Liberty on my right (good morning darling), and Empire State Building back to my left. Down the bumpy roads of Brooklyn to find my morning bagel and tea (with lemon) at my favorite little breakfast spot around the corner from The Church. Mario hooks me up every morning.

Normally, this bike ride is a magical experience. There's a Zen moment there, when the lights all turn green at the perfect moment, when the traffic parts like Red Sea, when pedestrians actually look up from their zombie state to see you coming. I can predict the future. I can make people move when I want them to, where I want them to. I can cut through a crowd of people at full speed with enough awareness to smell the coffee from the woman in the short skirt, 6 inches from my handlebars. I can feel the hair on the back of my neck tingling before somebody steps out from in front of that parked delivery truck. I can spot a cab cutting me off with a sudden right turn - 2 blocks before he swerves. I have enough time to organize my thoughts into a string of well orchestrated profanity long before he makes his move.

But not today. Some days it's an up river swim. Don't worry, I didn't get hit today, nor did I hit anyone. But too many close calls for one day. I was close enough to a woman driving her BMW from New Jersey to reach into her car and grab the coffee out of her hand – and she never even saw me. Imagine her surprise when I yelled at her just before she cut me off. (she might have spilled the coffee, maybe I should have grabbed it from her.) Today, there were just too many potholes, too many red lights, and I think my rear wheel is finally starting to give out. Some days you go with the current, some days you just have to fight I guess.

Maybe this was all precipitated by strange event last night on the subway ride home. Apparently the man who sat down next to me on the train wasn't happy with me (just cause I exist I guess), cause he started by saying "May my God be as white as your God." Then he said it again, louder. Then he said it again, full roar, at the top of his lungs...over, and over again. I was the only one on the train not staring at him, my eyes were fixed on the little print of my book, not daring to look up. I didn't have the heart to tell him my god isn't white, black, green or purple – better not to say. It's an adventure, where the rubber meets the road.

Here's a picture of the floor at work.