Umbrellas

I enjoy the rain. Maybe it's the Brit/Celt in me, but I don't mind being out in the rain. I think it's kind of fun, actually. But there are two times when I absolutely hate and despise the rain: 1) when it is cold out and I'm freezing to death and soaking wet and 2) when it rains in New York City. I'm lucky enough to work only a few blocks from both the Port Authority and Penn Station, so if it's it raining it's usually no big deal. But today it was a different story.

I left the house this morning knowing full well I would hit a down pour by the time I reached the city, but I decided to keep my hopes up and pray that it would let up a bit before I arrived. No such luck. Instead, it was raining even worse when I exited the Port Authority. My main mission today was to pick up visas and passports for one of my favorite string quartets (and yes, I say that with the utmost of cynicism--if they're not driving crazy, something else will happen with regards to them to make everything that much worse; in this case it was Mother Nature's turn). So I headed out of the Port Authority in the direction of the Brazilian Consulate General, which didn't sound that far away when it was sunny out yesterday.

Now I do not have an umbrella. Nope, I do not have an umbrella. Why? Well, what's the point? You really only get a few good uses out of it, and then it either turns inside out and snaps or the fabric rips off of the spokes. I got a great one for Christmas, and it lasted a whole three rainy days thanks to a big gust of wind. I was sure to grab my black hoody before I left this morning so I would have something to cover my head, though it didn't really do much. However, I continued on down 41st street, then up Broadway and continuing across until I reached 46th and 6th, knowing full well I would be wetter than a rat in the bilge by the time I arrived.

The whole time there and back I ducked and dodged umbrellas like I was training for a boxing match. Up, down, duck, weave, up, over. I had a better work out on my way to work than I get with all of the Pilates I do in one week! As big as the sidewalks are in New York City, they aren't nearly big enough to accommodate everyone's umbrellas. It's really quite a bother, too.

It's already bad enough for those of us who have given up on the idea of ever staying dry in the rain because we don't feel umbrellas are really worth it. We don't need to fight with every other pedestrian for our right to walk the streets of New York City. Last time I checked, all pedestrians had the right of way, not just the ones with the umbrellas. Most people are already blind enough when it comes to being considerate pedestrians (see "Sidewalk Traffic" posted in April, as well as my links to Fee), we don't need anymore!

Here are a few things people should consider when it's raining in New York City:

1)I'm back to wearing contacts, so I don't exactly have the semi-protection of my glasses anymore. Back off and stop trying to poke me in the eye with your damn umbrella spokes.

2) If you're going to sell umbrellas on the street corner, sell them on MORE street corners. I was very tempted to pick one up today (knowing full well I'd be throwing it in a week's time), but for the life of me, I couldn't find anyone selling umbrellas. It's funny, when it's sunny out, I could probably buy an umbrella at each news stand in the city. But when it's raining, it's like they take them off the shelves so they can watch us suffer while they sit in their little news huts.

3) Leave a lane open on the sidewalk for those of us who do not have umbrellas. It makes it all the harder for us to get to work when we have to duck and dodge hundred of umbrellas.

4) If you absolutely need an umbrella, don't purchase one of those huge golf umbrellas. If you're going to have an umbrella that big off of the golf course, you're going to have to have to share it with me.

5) Back to the sale of umbrellas...If you're going to sell umbrellas, how about giving us a little bit of a choice. I only ever see black umbrellas for sale. Sure, black goes with everything, but it just gets boring after a while. How about hot pink or lime green? Anything but black!

I must admit, the best part of getting drenched in the rain this morning, while everyone else passed by me with their stupid umbrellas, was this one tough, gansta looking guy walking along with a beautiful lady's umbrella. It was white with a lovely lilac print. Are you kidding me?!?! Let me guess you ride a little girl's bicycle, too, right?

I'm not going to buy an umbrella anytime soon, and I will just have to live with the fact that I have to get wet every now and again. And for all of those out there with umbrellas, take a look at the list above and remember, I'm out there. Try and poke me in the eye, and I'll come right back at ya with me pirate hook. I won't be the only one in New York City with an eye patch! ARGGGGGGGGGGGG!

Pirate fact: Pirates often lost limbs and appendages in battle, and it is probable that hooks were used to replace hands. The base could have been constructed from a wooden bowl and the hook with leftover materials from the onboard blacksmith. The entire construction could have been strapped on to the arm with some leather. This prosthetic could be temporary or permanent.

Our Little Pinky

I left work last week and headed out to the Port Authority. I was planning on taking my usual 5:40PM bus, but I decided at the last minute to catch the 5:20PM bus to Red Bank/Exit 109. Mum and I had a few errands to run, so she was going to pick me up and we would just go from there. Once I arrived, we decided it would be best to first drop of the cheesecake I brought home for our bowling awards dinner, then head out on errands. So we went home , dropped off the cheesecake and started out again.

As we started up Locust Avenue, a small object on the sidewalk caught my eye. I thought immediately that is was an animal of sorts (maybe a mouse or mole), so I asked Mum to turn the car around quick and go back. She did, and I jumped out of the car to find a baby opossum just sitting on the sidewalk. She didn't budge, nor did she look ferocious as we all think opossums are. We looked around and there were no other opossums or any hint that she was with a group. She was just standing there all alone. So I picked her up, and we brought her home.

By the time we pulled in the driveway, she (yes, she had a little pouch so it was a she) had climbed all the way up into my jacket and was nuzzled in the sleeve section up by my armpit. I got into the house, and Mum and Pop-pop helped me get my jacket off. Mum ran out quick to pick up some baby formula and an eye dropper so we could feed her. She was the most adorable baby I have ever seen (aside from Frosty, our pirate hedgehog, of course). She moved around a bit, smelling and getting accustomed to her new surroundings, but after a few minutes, she was definitely ready for some food.

After feeding her and playing with her a bit, I decided she needed a name, and I decided on Pinky. She had a pink nose, pink toes, a pink tail and a pink little belly. She settled down in her warm towels, and I put her in the hedgehog's old aquarium. She was out like a light in no time. What an adventure she must have had losing her family and finding her way to the sidewalk. It's a good thing we drove by when we did!

My husband came home later that night, and he lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw Pinky. He had the sweetest expression on his face. I was feeding her one last time before bed, so he was able to play with her for a bit. Of course, he got his video camera out right away and started to film her (Pop-pop had taken a few photos of her earlier). Pinky fell for him right away, and they, too became good buddies.

We were able to take care of Pinky for almost a week, playing with her, feeding her and loving her to pieces (as well as getting a lot of video footage and pictures)! We also had a dose of what it's like to be real parents, as she had a crazy sleeping and feeding schedule. There were a couple of nights she was up at 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning, and one night when she wouldn't even settle down before 4:00AM. But we enjoyed our time with her all the same.

We will certainly never have an experience quite like this again, and I am so happy we had the opportunity to take care of her. Someone was looking out for Pinky when I decided to take the early bus home. If I hadn't taken that bus, we never would have had our time together.

Today, my husband, Mum and Pop-pop took Pinky to the Popcorn Park Zoo in Lacey Township, NJ, where she will be taken care of by professionals and released back into the wild. I had a long talk with Pinky this morning before I left for work, and I told her to be strong and brave, and to fit right in with the other opossums at the zoo. I told her how much I loved her and would miss her, and my husband later told me that Pinky said she loved me, too.

Thank you God and Pinky for this wonderful opportunity. You will never be forgotten, our little Pinky.

No pirate fact today, maties. Please take a moment to visit the Popcorn Park Zoo website at http://www.associatedhumanesocieties.org/. It makes for a great day trip (especially if you have children--or a husband who loves emus), and the animals really need our love, friendship and support. Thank you.

The Ungrateful

A belated Happy Mother's Day to you all of you Maritime Mums out there. Keep raising those little pirates! It's the best thing my mother ever did for me. ARGGGGGGGG to you Mum!

Now on to business...

I had to attend a meeting on Friday afternoon, and to celebrate the week's end, my officemate and I met my sister-in-law (another pirate lady) for a drink at a quaint little martini joint called Cosmo's on West 54th Street. My officemate soon had to leave for another engagement, and my sister-in-law and I headed out to our respective rides home.

As I headed into New York Penn Station, I checked the board and saw that I was just in time for the next train out to "down the shore". I went to one of the ticket machines, as it's increasingly difficult to find an actual working human body in that place, and I was waiting for my debit transaction to be processed. Note: I had no known cash on me. A man came up to me and asked if I had any spare money. As I knew I had spent my last physical dollar, I turned and said, "Sorry, I don't have any." He grunted, turned away and proceeded to ask other people who were standing around waiting for the next train.

Meanwhile, the ticket machine was taking an eternity, and I decided to check my pockets just in case I had a spare dollar or some change that I had forgotten about. I dug into one pocket and found a few cents. It wasn't much, but since I was out of cash, what good would it do me when I could give it to the man who had asked me for some change a few minutes ago? I grabbed my ticket, looked around, spotted the man and proceeded to head over to him. I said,"It turns out I do have some spare change. It's not much, but it's all I have." (Note the phrase "It's all I have.") I gave him the change, he grunted again, turned and walked away. Needless to say, I felt hurt at his reaction or should I say lack of reaction.

I'm not homeless, and I know that many people out there have a far worse life than most of society gives them credit for. I can't always give money to the homeless, but I do what I can when I can, and I do feel genuinely sorry for them. Things happen in people's lives that they can't control, and sometimes it's hard to recover. Sometimes you never recover. Sometimes you go with what God has given you, and you make the best of it. This brings me to Austin.

Austin is another homeless man who frequents Penn Station. I met him for the first time during the Christmas season as I was, yes, getting my train ticket home from one of the machines (actually, it was very same machine). I seemed to be the only one around, and he came up to me and started a conversation. He asked where I was going, I said "Long Branch", and he replied, "268" (the station code you put in the machine when it asks for your destination). He said he knew every station code for every stop on the NJ Transit rail service, and I replied that was amazing. He said he's "been coming to Penn Station for years." I smiled. I got my ticket, turned to him, gave him a few dollars and wished him a Merry Christmas. He replied, "My name is Austin. You'll be in my prayers." I smiled again and headed out into the station.

Here's the difference between the "grateful" and the "ungrateful". Austin never asked me for money. He never even hinted that he needed it, but I knew he did. It was cold, and he could use the few dollars for some food or a couple cups of coffee. It didn't matter. I was glad I gave it to him, and I knew he was genuinely grateful for it. I see Austin at Penn Station every once in a while. He may not remember me, but he certainly made an impression, and I will probably never forget him.

The other man I spoke about couldn't have cared less that what I gave him was literally all I had. Maybe he thought I was lying. Maybe he thought I was being facetious because I only had a few cents to give him (it's not like it was just a couple of pennies, though). I can't tell you what was going through his head, but as I left, I felt bad about giving him the money because he seemed so ungrateful. Everyone else he asked either ignored him or denied him, and I had the courtesy and the decency to give him "all I had". He walked away with more money than I did because then I didn't have penny to my name. I could have given that change instead to someone who would have been very grateful to receive what could be given, no matter how much or how little that was.

I'm still going to give what I can to help the homeless and those around me. I know that they are suffering, and I need to give what I can to help others. It's my God given duty. It may be a sin for me to talk about my donations to the poor ("do not let the left hand know what the right hand is doing" kind of thing), but it's also a sin to simply take and not be grateful. I thank God everyday for all that I have, again, no matter how much or how little that is. Some days I have money, other days I don't. Some days I can buy the things I need, some days I can't. Either way, I'm grateful to have what I have.

We should all take time to be grateful, as there are people throughout the world far poorer and sicker than the poorest person in this country. Remember what you have and what you get. Don't be selfish, don't be rude, and most of all don't forget those around you, no matter who they are. Austin, you are in my prayers, too.

Pirate fact: Because pirates mostly had small, lightly armored ships, they preferred to board their enemies ships and fight man to man. Using horrifying scare tactics (though often times being greatly out numbered), they raided what they could from the larger ship and retreated quickly with their small, yet highly maneuverable ships.

Some People Just Don't Get It

I've been working in New York City now for almost year, and I think I have become quite acclimated to my surroundings (being a sea-loving Jersey Shore girl at heart). The one thing, though, that I cannot get used to is the bad attitudes I continue to encounter on a daily basis. And the thing is, I continue to encounter these bad attitudes from the same people, time and time again. Of course New York is known for its bad attitudes and even worse driving, but after a while, you just have to say, "Give it a break, buddy!"

Here are a few examples that agitate me (and it's not a good thing to agitate a pirate, is it maties?): (Yes, I have someone specific in mind when I write this. Let's call her Sadie for now, which means "princess" in English.)

1) Don't get angry at me when you come in my office and ask me to do your job for you. I have my own job to do, and it consumes quite a lot of time.

2) Don't treat people like they are your slave because you believe you are so important.

3) Get it in your head that I'm not going to pick up lunch for you everyday, and neither is anyone else. We're all busy, but we all need to take a break here and there. Just because you never leave your desk, doesn't mean you can bark your lunch order at me as I pass your desk at noon.

4) Try not to speak so loud, as it disturbs my train of thought. Silence is golden. Embrace it.

5) Say "thank you" once in a while. It makes the rest of us feel like we're actually in the same room with you when you actually acknowledge us.

6) Treat your superiors with respect. You'll never get that promotion you keep saying you're going to ask for if you continually give your bosses an attitude. They've been doing this a lot longer than you, and I'm pretty sure they know what they're doing. Take the time to learn from them, not try and act as though you know more. You don't.

7) When people joke around, laugh and joke along with them. Don't reply with a snide email. It brings out the worst in you.

8) Don't tell the same story to everyone in the office at top volume. We've heard once and once is enough. Also, refer to #4.

9) Don't use our (me and Fee's) office floor to wrap gifts for your supposed adoring fans. It's annoying, and we will soon start charging rent for your left over rolls of wrapping paper and ribbon.

10) Stop being so pushy when you're out in public. It's doesn't make you look tough, and it doesn't make you look like a real New Yorker (we call all see right through you). Quite frankly, it's embarrassing to be seen in public with you.

Hopefully a certain someone, Sadie perhaps, will take a look at this short list of comments and suggestions and take it to heart. Life is too short to cut your nose off to spite your face, and we're tired of it. As for the rest of the bad attitudes I encounter in New York on a regular basis, bring 'em on. It's like skipping through a field of daisies compared to putting up with you.

Pirate fact: If a pirate was injured and amputation was necessary, he would receive a crude version of a prosthetic. As his abilities to engage in combat would now be hindered, a handicapped pirate would be given less active work to do (i.e. cooking, cleaning, firing the cannons, etc.). A pirate would also be compensated financially for his loss. As much as 600 pieces of eight would be given for the loss of a vital limb.