Last year I published reports from readers about the transit strike. I asked people to send me their stories via comments or email (louisecrawford@gmail.com). I was looking for human interest, commuting
nightmares, smart solutions, bike stories, walking, car pooling,
coping. Here is one from FAMDOC. I don’t know who he is but he is a
loyal reader and commenter:
The celebratory atmosphere extended from the Slope to the Brooklyn
Bridge this morning, where walkers and bikers seemed unfazed by the
inconveniences the strike created. Midspan was Mayor Marty (Brooklyn
Borough President Marty Markowitz) on a bullhorn, telling us how great
and resilient Brooklynites are (and on the way home this evening, there
he was again, proclaiming, "welcome back to Brooklyn."
You gotta love the guy. Tireless in his enthusiasm for Brooklyn, his
website even proclaims that all he ever wanted to be was BP).
The return trip was cheeful, but far more crowded. Bikers were forced
by cops and the density of the crowd to dismount and walk. Weaving my
way back to the Slope via 3rd Ave, I realized how on my guard I must be
if I am going to live through this strike on a bicycly. Every block
presented new challenges, in the way of potholes, parked cars pulling
away from the curb unexpectedly and moving vehicles driving without
regard for pedestrians and bikers. Back home, a hot shower and a cup of
tea for my achy, previously untaxed muscles.How long will we tolerate this? And for those of us who run our own
businesses, dependent upon customers, clients, patients, how long can
we tolerate this without going broke? In some strange way, for this
small-business owner in lower Manhattan, there are certain reminders of
mid to late September, 2001.–posted December 2005
I will always remember the transit strike from last year. I was still living in San Francisco and I got a call from my mom saying that my dad was in the hospital getting prepped for triple bypass surgery. They were in “the city” and because of the transit strike, they had to walk from Penn Station to their evening activities – the theater, the restaurant. My dad was quietly not feeling well but went along with the evening. He stopped for some tums along the way. After the play, he told my mom that he’d like to take a cab back to Penn Station. My mom, ever-thrifty, said, “You know it’s $10 a person because of the strike?” He said, “I don’t care.” Knowing something was completely out of whack, she then asked him if he’d rather go to the emergency room and he said yes. The doctors said if he went home that night, there’s no telling whether he would have survived the night.
So, in conclusion, because of the transit strike, my father’s heart was under just enough strain to get it checked out but not enough to send him into a full blown heart attack. His surgery on December 24th was successful. He now feels like he has a new birthday on Christmas which gives my family of Jews a real reason to celebrate!