I Just Wanted To Get Home. Twice.

Let me tell you about trying to get home yesterday. Twice.

The first time I  tried to get home was after an amazing Core Fusion class with my favorite instructor. I was feeling great, and even though I had a heavy bag full of laundry and books to carry, I opted to walk the 7 avenues and 2 streets home rather than take a taxi. And then the problems began.

Yesterday was the Puerto Rican Day parade, and while I am all for a good parade, I am not all for every single street being closed. I began on 59th street at 10:30 AM. (The parade was  from 11 – 6). While the parade hadn’t started yet, the streets were closed in preparation. I was instructed to walk to 57th street — 2 blocks in the opposite direction of my apartment. I did this, and came back around only to find that I was literally blocked in a square. There were street barricades surrounding me in every direction — except the one I came from. The opposite direction of my apartment.

I just wanted to get to my apartment! I found a police officer and told him where I live and asked how I might get there. I felt silly asking for directions to such a close location, but I think my situation was understandable! He told me to go up to a barricade back at 59th street and show the cop my license proving my address.

Little problem. I never changed my license address when I moved to Manhattan. Three and a half years ago. But I have a good reason!

I, uh… love my drivers license picture. And I was worried that if I changed the address they would make me change the picture, as I somehow entered a loophole in the picture changing timeline. I didn’t want them to realize that I haven’t taken a new picture since I was 16. I am 26 now. But I love that picture! I need to find a scanner somewhere so I can show you all. Or take a picture of it and  (but I don’t have it on me right now, I forgot it in a different purse!) If it were up to me, I’d have this license picture forever.

Like I said, I was 16. I was slightly ghetto-fab, being from Queens and all, so I had the two front pieces of hair framing my face while the rest of my hair was half-up. (Remember half-up!) I had also applied generous amounts of fake tan the night before — in preparation for this photographic opportunity. I was also rocking perfectly applied eyeliner. Because of (despite?) all this, my picture turned out beautiful! I loved it, I love when I have to show it to people, I love the compliments I get for it!

However, my pretty 16 year old drivers license picture wasn’t going to prove I live where I live. I got very nervous and called the boy in a state of panick. What if I was trapped in the parade FOREVER??? I approached the cop at the next barrier but as luck would have it, he was fighting with someone else about HER I.D.! She was begging him to let her go to work and he was demanding I.D. I was able to slip by unnoticed and get home.

Phew. And my problems getting home were over. Or so I thought.

Later that day, I went to my mom’s in Queens to visit with her, my grandma, and my aunt and uncle. When it was time to go, my aunt and uncle graciously offered me a ride all the way back to the city, to the boy’s apartment. We figured that since it was past 6, the parade’s end time, we would be fine.

Not the case.

We needed to get across the park. At 66th street, the street that crosses the park, there were barricades up. We rolled down the window to ask a police officer where we should go to get across the park.  He said, “Fifth avenue is open. You have to go up and make a left and come back down fifth and you can go across at 66th.”

Perfect.

We go up a few blocks, all have barricades, until we get to 71st street. We make the left and approach 5th avenue to make another left. But 5th avenue is closed, street cleaning machines sputtering all around like Rosie the housekeeper on the Jetsons.  A mean lady cop yelled at us and told us we weren’t supposed to come down 71st street. But that’s what the other copy told us to do! And he told us 5th ave was open. We told the mean lady that this is what one of her own told us, and she yelled at us some more. She said that he was wrong. She said 5th avenue is closed and we needed to turn back around.

We asked mean cop lady where we could go to get through the park. She said 72nd street is open and goes through the park. 72nd! We were only one block away! We didn’t have to go through all this madness on 71st. So it was time to go there. By the way, mean cop lady was rolling her eyes and giving us attitude the entire time. But she seemed very sure of herself, so off we went.

By this time, however, a long line of cars were behind us on 71st street. Apparently someone forgot that this street was supposed to be closed and didn’t put up any barricades. All the cars behind us had to back up and turn around, and finally it was our turn as well. We backed up down the street, make a K turn to face the wrong way on a one way street and headed back towards Madison.

When we got there, the line of cars behind us had already disappeared. We were alone on the street in front of the barricade that they put up (a little late, huh) — and this time it prevented us from getting onto Madison. We were stuck on 71st street (closed). We couldn’t go to 5th ave (closed). And now we couldn’t turn back on to Madison (barricade). There were NO cops around at all to open it for us! We were trapped.

Finally we saw a cop and he freed us. “Oh, you want to get out?” he asked. Uhhh. Yeah. And onto Madison we turned.

We were not happy (and not surprised) to see that 72nd street, the street we were told to go on by a police officer, was closed as well. We asked yet ANOTHER cop what street we can  go down to get through the park. He told us 96th street. Very far out of our way, but what can we do.

But. This cop, like ALL  the others we spoke to, was wrong! 79th was open. We drove past it, not expecting it to be. 86th was open as well, and we were able to turn onto it, make our way through the park so I could get home. Finally.

What I don’t understand is this: How is it that not a single cop knew the correct answer? And if they didn’t know the answer, why not admit they don’t know? They ALL told us decisively where to turn, where to go, based on…. what? They all seemed certain of themselves. Especially mean cop lady. Where do they get their information from and why can’t they coordinate with each other? There should be one line of communication with the same information, no?

And this parade is notorious for causing disruptions to the city. You’d think that the NYPD would want to create SOME semblance of order on this day. Guess not…

(from oglobo.globo.com)

Coming soon: Post  about my experience in spin class today — to test my knee.

Currently Reading: The First Hour I Believed by Wally Lamb. I have the softcover version! Not that it is much lighter… so excited to be reading this!