Mon 14 Jun 2010
Paradise By the Blackberry Light
Posted by TJ under Blackberry, Hawthorne, North White Plains, Taxi, White Plains
[2] Comments
I was trying the make the most of a monthly pass with a weekend trip to the city–a Saturday night foray into Gotham to celebrate a friend’s 40th down in Gramurray Hill.
The trip in was mostly uneventful, minus an entire train car of decked out revelers screaming “Happy birthday Jamie!” and then applauding for several seconds.
A birthday isn’t really an accomplishment worthy of sustained applause. I mean, it’s worth marking and celebrating–in fact, today happens to be the Missus’s birthday…happy birthday The Missus!. But applauding? It’s not striking out 14 in your Major League debut, or being named to the New Yorker’s Under 40 Fiction list.
The published schedule had the length of the 7:53 to Manhattan at 51 minutes. I’m quite sure they’ve added a few minutes to the trip; it used to be 48. There were no extra stops, no surprise stops in Mount Vernon West or anything like that. I guess they’re just allowing extra time for drunk kids who forget to mind the gap.
Either way, the train pulled into Grand Central well before the 51 minute mark, more like 43 minutes or so. I dumped my Times and empty Bud bottle in the respective receptacles and hit the 6 train for 28th, happy that my friend’s wife picked a bar within striking distance of Grand Central, but a little annoyed that I was doing my exact two-train commute on a Saturday.
The return trip was more eventful. I got on the 12:06 and had a smooth ride until we got to White Plains, where the train stopped somewhere in the wilds of North White at 12:42.
The girls across the aisle in front of me were engaged in a long, boozy convo. The girl on the left, heavy-set, Italian, about 22, was obsessed with the ’80s. She had leg warmers on, despite the 75 degree temps, a loose Madonna-circa-’85 tank over another top, and 15…18…20….22 cheap bracelets on her right wrist. She said she was moving to Austin to waitress and whatever else came up in Texas; she said she’d regret not doing it for the rest of her life if she didn’t give it a shot.
The train public address came on, announcing itself with a 4-note electronic jingle that the ’80s girl swore shared the same melody as Madonna’s “Holiday.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are being held due to police activity in Valhalla,” it said. “We’re sorry for the delay.”
The whole of the train groaned, though a car full of boozy weekenders seem to take such announcements better than the seasoned commuters. The ’80s girl engaged the guy stretched out on the seat cattycorner to her. She didn’t know him but got him to open up: He’d been in the city on a booty call, she elicited in the interrogation, and he was a bit sore. ’80s girl lapped up the details like a Pulitzer-winning reporter.
At 12:55, the PA came on again.
“It’s ‘Holiday’!” ’80s girl screamed, dancing in her seat. I turned the Flogging Molly up on the iPod Nano I’d brought for the night, due to it sliding easily into a pants pocket.
“Police activity in Valhalla,” it said. “We’re sorry for the delay. We should be moving again in a couple more minutes.”
Finally, at the stroke of 1–a full 12 minutes after we should’ve been pulling into Hawthorne–the PA came on again. More apologies, and the promise that we are “now on our way.”
In a few seconds, we were.
We pulled into Hawthorne at 1:10–22 minutes late. The station was beyond deserted, the new Hawthorne Taxi guys surely gone to bed.
I pulled a tiny keychain flashlight out of my pocket and hit Elwood. The light was weak and the button hard to press, so I pulled my Blackberry out instead. (Not that it really mattered–the streets are well-lit, and there’s nobody…nobody out in Hawthorne past 1 in the morning.)
The light of my Blackberry led the way, and got me thinking–of all the annoying iPhone apps out there, has anyone created a flashlight app? Now there’s smart use for your smartphone.

