see you on the 6 train

I'm one of those people that's really obsessed with texting, not so much with phoning. I also complain about having a cell phone a fair amount and lament the fact that technology's gotten so crazy that we all do like, 18 billion things at one time because everyone has a freakin Blackberry.

That didn't mean that I meant to throw my Blackberry Pearl into the 6 train tracks.

It started out like any other Saturday. I was with A, and we were headed to Cheap Jack's, the coolest vintage store in the whole world, to go try on peoples' old clothes and pretend like we had enough money to buy them. We had also just consumed the best sandwich in the world (you think I'm using hyperbole, but you're wrong), which is sold at the corner of Bleecker and Lafayette at this shack called Bite. I don't know what they put in those sandwiches but it's probably not legal.

So, you guys may not know this, but I have a bit of a history with the NY Transit Authority already. Pretty much because of how I fell down the stairs when I was headed to the D train in late August. I don't believe in saying things like, "I'm uncoordinated," because I'm honestly not. I have great aim, and I have great fine motor skills. It's big-picture things, like walking and talking and other types of multi-tasking, that I generally have problems with.

It's been a few months now, but your writer feels that she should share the facts of the day that yours truly (B$) fell down the subway steps. This is so you'll fully understand and appreciate how hilarious I am.

Basically, I fell down les stairezas and hit my head way hard on ye 28 day of August, 2008. How hard did I fall, you may ask? Hard enough to cause a major nosebleed and general disorientation. 20 stairs hard, head-first hard. Two women helped me up the stairs, and the next thing I knew, I was in some hospital, some guy told me I looked like a beat-up Mandy Moore (compliment?) and they had to rip off my clothes in a huge sterile room with about 25 attendants and residents because I already had a neck brace on. Mortifying. Absolutely mortifying.
After that, it gets all blurry again on account of the morphine. And don't worry, I'm still getting these weird insurance calls/bills/thank-you notes/ransom notes because of the effing Hindenburg of a hospital to which I was sent. They messed up pretty much everything, down to the birthdate on my hospital bracelet. So it's not really a shock that in addition to all this nonsense, my friends thought I was pretty much a goner for a full day while they searched for me. Oh yeah, I forgot my phone too. In my apartment. On the day I fell down the stairs. So, see? Bad things happen when a phone is (not) involved.

So, returning back to December 20, 2008: I was walking down the stairs, holding tightly onto the rail. I made it through the turnstile. And I heard my phone buzz. And, as I took it out of my pocket, it seemed to happen in slow motion: my phone went flying into the abyss that we shall call the 4, 5, 6 train tracks. My first inclination, I'll admit, was to hurl myself after it, but the stranger next to me restrained me. No, like, physically restrained me.

Here are some pictures A took of my sad phone just sitting there. She thought it was absolutely hysterical to take pictures of my misfortune. That, I believe, has a name, and that name is Schadenfreude. Happiness at others' misery. I thought it was really funny too, only NOT FUNNY AT ALL.

So, after briefly debating the merits of getting pummeled by a train, A and I decided that my phone was not in danger of being stolen, as long as it was down there. And you know what? Let's use some asset-based thinking here. Power of the positive. It could've fallen in the puddle in the MIDDLE of the tracks, next to that gross Starbucks cup, so it wasn't THAT bad. And I could've thrown like, all my shit into the tracks, instead of just my phone. Or myself, accidentally; I mean crazier things have happened.

I went and talked to Mike, transit authority's guy that sits in the little glass box. The attendant shook his head and confirmed my suspicion that I could not crawl down there, no matter how much I benched and how flexible I was. I'm sure this was because of the posters of my face, post-nosebleed, hanging in the Transit Authority's Headquarters (you know they have a HQ) and the words, "DO NOT LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO THIS GIRL WHILE SHE'S ON THE TRAIN OR IN THE AREA OR ALL YOUR ASSES WILL BE SUED."

I discussed the matter and he said that he would call The Squad. I'm not joking. There's a squad for this kind of thing. He said it would take one hour. I told Mike he was a saint, and that I could kiss him; this weirded him out and I decided he was best left alone. I left my address and name with him, along with A's phone number, so that when my phone was retrieved I could be found. I should add that I asked Mike if it was ok to keep doing what we were off to do; Mike looked at me like I was an idiot and goes, "What's gonna happen to yo phone? You think it's gonna what, crawl on its little phone legs and run away?" I decided Mike had the situation handled and proceeded on to Cheap Jack's with Adriana, where I bought an egregious sequined dress in my attempts to forget the ordeal.

I arrived back to Bleecker Street at 4:30 PM to collect my phone. I had been told Chris would be the attendant in charge, so I approached the booth. Sure enough, Chris was there. He asked for my id. I gave it to him, got my phone, and promptly told him he was a Chris-tmas miracle. He thought I was way funnier than Mike did.

I don't think the MTA will ever, ever let me into a subway ever again.

Songs now:

McFly -Star Girl (Don't judge my obsession with what G calls "British Sum 41.")

Don't Forget - Demi Lovato

I Think We're Alone Now (cover) - The Click Five

Halloween - Matt Pond PA

You Said No - Busted

Supply & Demand - Amos Lee

City Escape - The Dear Hunter

See You At the Lights - The 1990s