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Tag Archives: NYC

Survivor-Man Me?

8 Feb

February 8, 2018

Let me tell you what I was wearing. Not because I think you’ll get a thrill out of it, but because it is relevant to the story.

Blue sweat pants. Brown slip-on Skechers that I say are trendy and Saarah says are not. No socks. An old, thin green worn out t-shirt that is only good for wearing around the house. A winter coat.

That’s quite an ensemble and no, I was not on my to the Queen’s Ball. I was outside throwing out the trash. It was midnight and about 25 degrees outside. (That’s degrees Fahrenheit, not that Celsius nonsense. Celsius is just a scam perpetuated by the big mercury conglomerates to make us buy new thermometers.)

Does the dude in this stock photo look cold? He just looks creepy to me.

I walked around the side of my building to where the garbage cans are and put my trash in one of the already full cans so that my bag was precariously balanced atop a mountain of who knows what. I’m pretty sure that my building’s super empties these cans once in a while, but then again, what do I know? They never seem to get any emptier. (Yet they never get any fuller either. Maybe he empties just enough to keep the status quo.)

So, mission accomplished, I was walking back around the building when there was a gust of wind and I realized just how poorly I was dressed for the weather. Good thing I was only going to be outside for a minute or two and had a warm home to go back to.

But what if I didn’t? What if I were homeless?

Dressed as I was, was I prepared to survive a night of sudden homelessness?

I was already feeling a chill in my toes and since I wasn’t wearing socks my feet weren’t particularly comfortable to begin with.  So if I was forced to spend a night outdoors, braving the elements, how would I handle it?

My first worry was about frostbite. My hands I could jam in my jacket pockets, but with no socks my toes were an obvious frostbite target. I could probably tear up my shirt and wrap my feet in the cloth, then jam them into my shoes. But then I’d be shirtless (calm down ladies). Well, I was wearing a winter coat so I could zip it all the way up. My head was bare and my jacket didn’t have a hood. Maybe I could save some of the ripped t-shirt to wrap around my head like a bandanna to protect my ears from frostbite. Nothing I could do about my legs. The wind blew right through the sweatpants.

I had to face the fact that I was barely dressed to survive the minute and a half I’d be out in the winter, there was no way I’d survive overnight.

It was one thing to toss out the trash dressed that way, but I’d have to prepare better if I were to live outside.

If I were ever really homeless, I’d somehow make my way down to Florida. It’s much easier to be homeless in the winter laying on Miami Beach than it is here on Coney Island Beach.

That’s the life!

Being homeless on the beach does have some perks.

 

 

 

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There’s Something Odd Going On Here.

12 Sep

September 12, 2017

For many, many years, my building had the mail delivered by one regular postman. Other than his regular summer vacations, he was always here at about 1:oo. At some point his route changed and he started coming at 4:00, but whichever time he was supposed to be here, he was here.

He was really good and dependable. Packages were brought to our door and we knew him, and he knew us, by name and friendly greetings. Eventually he retired and of course for years now our mail service has sucked. He was probably the only good mailman in Brooklyn.

Everyone loves 1950’s clip art!

I’ve detailed before how packages get stolen in my building, letters don’t arrive, and the postal carrier shows up anywhere from noon to six pm. (But I will give him credit. Most of the mail ends up in the correct boxes, at least half of the time.)

But lately the mail has been showing up at close to 8 pm. This can’t be a regular route. What postal worker is out delivering mail at that hour?

And it gets odder. I’ve seen the mailman twice. Both times he was delivering the mail with an “assistant,” an older woman that has to be his wife. She doesn’t wear a uniform and takes mail out of a school knapsack.

Also, I get a service from the USPS. They email me pictures of my mail that is scheduled to be delivered that day. For a while it was spot on, now the letters in the email arrive about three days later. If at all.

So am I right in assuming that much of my mail is sitting in that guy’s living room, along with piles of other people’s mail that my carrier may never get to because he has fallen so far behind?

 

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