Sunday I took a long ride out to Bay Ridge to do some odd jobs for a nice young lady named Victoria. Danusia recommended me to her; Victoria is a dog walker and used to walk a dog for the man Danusia works for, Andrew. The dog died, so Victoria no longer walks him, but she ran into Danusia somewhere or other and mentioned she needed some work done in her new apartment.
Because it was a friend of Danusia’s, and because I could use the money, I took the long ride out to the end of the world, well, the end of Brooklyn, at least.
You can see the Verrazano Bridge from the end of 4th Avenue.

I hung some shelves, assembled a bed (a Sealy Posture-pedic) and a bunch of hooks for Victoria. We chatted, and it turns out Victoria’s got a blog too, at:
Check it out. I won’t tell you what it’s about, but you’ll find it entertaining. I promise.
On my way there I discovered you could now change for the R train at the Jay Street A train stop. I think that transfer’s been around for sometime now but it was the first time I used it. I saw an escalator to the R train, but I somehow ended up on the stairwell. It was a little confusing with those signs with the U-shaped arrows that mean you must to go back, the stairs are behind you.
I promised myself I would take the escalator up on my way back, especially since I had my 30-plus pound tool bag with me.

I did the work, we chatted, and by four I was done and on my way back to Manhattan. I got off the train at Jay Street after 13 agonizingly slow stops on the R train. I made a beeline for the escalator, and I wondered why I was the only one on it. I got to the top, got off, and realized that this was only an exit. It said so in big yellow letters painted on the floor in front of the escalator: EXIT ONLY.
I stood there with my big red bag and pondered my next move.
Go through the revolving gate- a difficult feat with my bag; and re-enter across the street? Or, pick up the bag and walk back down the up escalator. Even as a kid I wouldn’t do it for kicks, so this was to be a first for me.
I picked up the bag, took a deep breath and started down.
It was tough going, I really had to make an effort to go down that up-moving escalator. If you need a good workout, this is it.
I found the right escalator at the end of the platform, and took it up to the A train platform. There was an elevator there going down to the train, and the door was open. I ran for it and was the only occupant, again. But I was sure this wasn’t leading me to an exit, it was going down.

elevator bag
I could see a train on the platform; I was missing the train! I should have taken the stairs. Those subway elevators are like molasses, and the doors don’t open for a few seconds after they stop. The train doors closed and it was pulling out, much to my dismay.
The doors opened in time for me to see it was an F train.

About xaviertrevino

I like to write, take things apart and put them back together. Also our cat Snookie, turtles, and my lovely wife Danusia.
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  1. Austin says:

    I grew up in Bay Ridge, so thanks for the trip down memory lane. 🙂

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