Independence Day

The day started off low-key with some house-cleaning and a run across the George Washington Bridge. I'd never thought of the Hudson River as a major river, but it's nearly a mile in width and impressive to see how it dwarfs gigantic barges floating far below the bridge.

I spent the better part of the afternoon studying at a coffee shop in Greenwich Village, and then met up with a couple new anesthesia friends, David & Jessica, for dinner at a restaurant on Union Square. An afternoon shower had cooled the air, so we dined outdoors under large yellow striped umbrellas, looking out over the square famous for its produce market. Since I live and work in Washington Heights (but plan to buy monthly subway passes), I'd like to make a regular effort to spend time in other parts of the city.

After dinner, we joined the throngs migrating east across Manhattan. Tens of thousands were watching the fire-works show over the East River. There was of course a strong police presence (this the first time that the reality of terrorism flitted into my consciousness...being in the middle of crowds in New York on Independence Day.) I was amused by the police check-points where we were stopped and asked where we were going. "To 32nd Street to watch the fireworks," seemed to get us through the checkpoints.

The show was pretty good, but later in the evening I ran into another anesthesia resident in the Times Square station who had some fortunate connections and had watched the show at a garden party at the United Nations. Sound like his view was far better than ours, as we stood in the southbound lanes of the FDR.

Getting home on the trains of course felt like rush hour. And at this point, I'd like to offer a few words to the gentleman entering the far left turnstile, 42nd Street station, southeast corner, at approximately 10:30 PM July 4, 2006....

How strange that we both wound up at the same turnstile--me exiting halfway through after waiting on five people to exit and then seeing a break; you poised to swipe your MetroCard. I apologize for not realizing sooner that when you put your hand on my chest and blocked my path as I was half-way through the turnstile exiting the station, that it was a signal you wanted to enter before I exited.

I regret not reading your aggressive body language sooner. Your corpulence may have obscured some of the subtleties. However, I do appreciate the freely offered corrective etiquette tips with regard to my rudeness.

And when you actually began pushing me, I really wish I could have been more clear that the turnstile only works one direction. Simply to say, "Sir, this turnstile will not go the other way--you have to let me out this way," is a bit ambiguous. And silly me for repeating it a couple more times, rather than finding a way out over, under, or through the turnstile.

I'm sorry this encounter slowed you down. You seemed to be in a hurry, and that thirty-second wait as we stood in a deadlock was rather excessive.

And as I told you the other night, I really didn't see you coming (all I saw was the break in the flow). But you know what, if I had to do it all over again, I'd do the EXACT SAME THING! Good night, sir, and happy Independence Day!