Akiva's Travels

17 Again

akivacp — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 19:31:32 +0000

Here’s the second story I wanted to tell you.
This is from Wednesday night, August 12, 2009.
I got off the Far Rockaway bound A at Mott Avenue. It was 9:14 when I arrived, so I figured it’s definitely still safe. I walked down Mott Avenue, past the apartment complex between McBride and Gipson streets. Seems like there was a party going on there. On my side of the street, there were two bikes on the ground and couple of guys standing over, but I walked around it. I figured they just stole those bikes, but I’m not gonna get involved. I continued without suspicion, though aware of footsteps behind me. At this time, I was already used to commuters walking behind me on Mott Ave.
I arrived at the Mott Ave/Bayswater Ave split, when I heard a gun cock, and two black guys ran in front of me. The shorter guy in the red shirt pointed his gun at me.
“Gimme your money! Gimme wat you got! Gimme everything! Gimme that backpack of yours!”
Knowing it’ll be stupid to try to be the hero, I surrendered. As much valuable objects I had at the time of the hold up, my life is much more important than earthly objects. I let them have it. I knew my computer and iPhone had remote-accessing programs that will let me track their IPs and stuff. Stupid of me forgetting to install LocatePC and a keylogger software when I reinstalled Windows 7 to the new RC version. I was hoping LogMeIn will be my savior.
Off my shoulders went my Panasonic Video Camcorder 42x I just purchased in the winter, my cracked iPhone that was supposed to be sold on eBay, my replacement iPhone, my cherished Acer Aspire laptop, with ALL my data on it, my portable 350GB hard drive, my Motorola Rival phone, my tefillin, my camera, my wallet containing my credit card, metrocards, State ID, and almost $20 cash, and a check written for $325 when I sold my Toshiba laptop, and all my computer accessories. Unfortunately for me, I was the perfect candidate to be held up. I was loaded.
The reason I was carrying all these items was because I wanted to a filming in Victorian Gardens should it have rained today. The iPhone is my toy anywhere especially on the subway. I dropped everything I had, and they grabbed my Verizon phone I was still on the call with, they reached in my pockets, took my wallet and iPhone. It was over for me. I had a strong sense they wouldn’t shoot if I did as I were told. I just let them have what I got, and hopefully, it could either be traced back to me, or I will work up to purchasing new items again.
I didn’t look behind me when they went away. I wouldn’t know if they walked (with the new weight), or ran. All I had on me was my Victorian Gardens uniform with my nametag, my umbrella, and a Manhattan bus map.
I walked one house down from the crime scene where I dormed at during the winter, and peeked behind the bushes to see if I could spot them. They were gone.
I saw a car pulling up across the street, and a man coming out, just coming home from work. I went over to him.
“Can I borrow your phone?”
“I’m sorry, I just got back from a long day at work, and I…”
“I need to dial 911. I was just held up at gunpoint.”
He stopped talking and I dialed. He suggested that I would come inside with him to make the call.
I was on the phone with the operator for about 3 minutes, and she was asking me if I can descibe the thugs. Unluckily, I cannot recognize faces easily, should they be white people, or colored people. I tried to remember as hard as I could, but I didn’t notice if the gunman had shorts or pants, or what color it was. All I remembered was a red shirt and a black automatic. They said it was okay, and police would be over soon. I hung up, and went outside, and tossed my watch on the ground, because I had keys attached to it, and it was jingling, maybe giving me away.
By the time all said was done, the police whizzed by, and I tried waving, screaming, “Hey!! HEY!!”
The red backlights lit up, but it was only for a stop sign. I slouched.
A car just passed by, and the windows rolled down.
“Did you just try to get that cop??”
Oh shoot. My heart skipped a beat. I thought this would be the end.
The person (whom I borrowed the phone) was behind me and replied affirmative.
Three guys quickly got out of the car, and shouted, “Get in the car! Get in the car NOW!!”
I was freaking out. This was almost a kidnap in progress with a witness behind me. Why did he have to say yes?? What did I do to deserve all this? I just lost all my possessions at gunpoint, and now I’m about to be kidnapped.
“We’re the police! Just get in the car!” One of the men raised their badge on their bling-bling neck braces.
A person like me just couldn’t buy this whole “undercover police” thing yet, especially in this neighborhood, especially just being held up.
The guy behind me said to do as I was told. And I sat in, and got in the middle seat of the back row, and they drove off. They sped down Mott Avenue, and I wouldn’t know what would happen to me next.

I need a break right now, but I decided to post this part, and finish the other part of this story later.

I have two very juicy stories to tell…

akivacp — Fri, 14 Aug 2009 17:33:20 +0000

I have two very juicy stories to tell. The second is a bit more juicier, but a lot of you were expecting me to talk more about what I mentioned a bit Monday evening, so I’ll get strait to that one.

So I was working on Hydro Racer at Victorian Gardens on Monday, and some tattooed up weirdo comes to my ride with his daughter. I nervously let the girl go with her artistic-skinned father, and he helped the child on the ride. Waited in the booth. They all do that. Once he turned around from my coworker and I, I mouthed to him, “Oh my G-d.” He smiled.

I ahem-ed and told the creepy looking sunglasses guy to please step outside. He does so without any issues. The ride made its cycle, and the father asks if the girl may ride one more time. I saw the girl’s wristband, and looked at the line, and I apologized, and said I can’t. He took the daughter by her hand and walked off to another ride. I breathed a sigh of relief. That was one less creepy looking guy on my ride. The rest of the day was pretty normal after that. Well, typically, not usually.

The next day, we were supposed to clock in a bit earlier than usual due to a forecast of rainstorms, so we may squeegee the rink before we open the park. After arriving, the rink was dry. It never rained. So we just hung around until 10:45. In the meantime, we’ve chatted a bit, mostly about kiddie ride operations and we came across people who showed up at the park.

“Blink182 was at the park recently.”

“Really? When?” I responded.

“Yesterday. He was the drummer.”

“He must have not went on my ride.”

“He was all tattooed up…”

“THAT WAS HIM?”

Well, you know, if I would’ve known you were a celebrity, and not some sort of creepy looking guy, I would’ve treated you with more respect. The second anecdote will have to come when I have more time. Be on the lookout!

Everyday Stupid NYC Things

akivacp — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 02:52:14 +0000

Couple random restroom stories (again!)

Roach Suicide
I was walking up the steps to my dorm entrance (the 2nd floor of someone’s house in a multi-family home), and I saw a roach whiz by and off the steps. And that’s the last I saw of the roach.

Valediction
I was on the NJ transit a couple weeks ago, and they made an announcement, “Thanks for riding the NJ transit, and have a safe day!”
Well, working in an amusement park, you know you have to tell that to parents to be safe, oh, you’d better believe me. At least wish me a nice day! The safe day part, I’ll do, thank you. Your job is to please wish me a wonderful day. Is that too hard to ask?

As the world sinks
I was in the elevator to reach the main deck of the Intreped (GREAT story, by the way. I need to direct a powerful film about the Intrepid), and there was a boy also in the elevator who said, “step in the box and the world goes down”. It made me chuckle.

A Subway Story
Map Location

Yay! I love subway stories! I mean, who doesn’t? Anyway, I’m always bothered that tourists and smelly foreigners who don’t know proper hygiene lean over you to stare at the subway map. But because of its complexity, they need to stare a bit longer at the map to understand and estimate their trip. IF YOU’RE RIDING THE SUBWAY FOR THE FIRST TIME, DO NOT WALK UP TO THE METROCARD MACHINE AND STARE LIKE AN IDIOT TO USE THE MACHINE! Use the station agents and ask any questions about your upcoming commute. It saves the rest of us New Yorkers the trouble and hassle of unavailable machines. The station agents are your irate guides to semi-help you with your trip, proper directions, and a FREE subway map so you don’t need to lean your man-cleavage upon us! They can also help you learn how to use the machines for the first (and hopefully, 1 of 2) time so you can help us save time from coming late to our appointments, clock ins, and meetings of our jobs.
Which leaves me to this: most subway cars I’ve seen, not the old ones where the windows to view the tracks at opposite ends (especially on the A,C,E lines), but the ones starting from the 80s, with the orange and yellow seats (commonly seen on the A, B, D, F, the shuttles, I’m not gonna list every line that have them, because you get the point), have the window taped up with some partition thingy so riders won’t peek into the conductor’s little room and make them feel uneasy. Now, instead of seeing an eyesore like a cardboard box or garbage bag, why can’t we have something useful, like a subway map? It’s completely out of the way from all traffic, no tourist will lean over a nervous New Yorker, I mean, why didn’t anybody think of this and speak up? Am I right? Please! MTA board, PLAN CAREFULLY where to place the maps on the trains! I really need some feedback about this one.

Disney Store Burglary
I was on 5th Ave in front of the Disney store when a couple of tourists saw it was retired for the night.
“It’s closed. Lets break in!”
“Say it a little louder…” and the voice trails off.
Oh my goodness! Somebody call security! Goofy’s line is in jeopardy! Tourists are going to steal plush dolls! I’d rather break into something easier like the apple store. Their entrance is all glass, just set the speakers to the right frequency, and GO. iPhones, iPods. If I’m robbing a store, I’d rather rob something valuable than a store that sells postcards (with Mickey’s actual signatures), plush toys, and chocolate. I mean, they’re probably smart people, but I guess their IQs couldn’t make it past security at the terminal.

Ungrateful LIRR Workers

akivacp — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 20:39:46 +0000

It’s been a while since I’ve posted something, but I’m traveling, and when I travel, it can only mean one thing: Time to Visit IdiotLand! (AKA America of Stupyded Nates, you’ll figure it out.

Anyway, last week, I’ve witnessed two rather annoying LIRR incidents.

The first incident took place a couple of Thursdays ago. I was coming off the Flatbush Avenue –bound train in Cedarhurst, and I saw a woman running as fast as she could carrying so many packages from the local supermarket. She screams and waves, but the conductors just wave their hats, the train whistles, and the LIRR left the station. I was angry. This train runs on the hour, and these conductors purposely ignored her pleas to just hold the train for just a few more seconds. Now, I don’t really understand the wacky rules of the MTA, but when someone is requiring your assistance, and you’re not the commuter, but the commutee, you DO NOT ignore! What was the difference between her and some handicapped person who needs assistance boarding the train? If it wasn’t for the packages, she would’ve made it! New Yorkers, this is where the fair hikes are going! I was incredibly mad with the MTA for the day.

The second incident was a quickie but still put steam in your ears- if you’re one of those people who want healthy lungs at old age, and don’t need a respirator. You know how it’s illegal to smoke on subway and LIRR stations and platforms? Well, I saw a bunch of LIRR workers smoking on the LIRR platforms.

On Friday, we were using one of those VZ Navigators to GPS us to a destination in Jersey. Then the female computer voice said, “Turn left at Rit Road”. We were trying to find a sign that said, “Rit” road. All I saw was a sign for “RT-507” when we got off the highway. Then it hit me. It was trying to pronounce the letters as a word.

The Inconsiderate Driver Who Blocks Traffic

akivacp — Sat, 23 May 2009 23:46:09 +0000

This story happened back in late May, but it was until now that I’m actually typing it.
I was spending another weekend at my sis’ apartment in Brooklyn, and I was walking down East 18 back from the Avenue M shopping market, and I came across a large Penske truck making deliveries to the residents of East 18th. Now, be aware that the residential streets of the Flatbush neighborhood are fit for basically three lanes of cars, and (most of the time) each street is one way. Because both sides of the streets are parked with cars, the last lane left is major traffic. Now, when a truck like Penske movers needs to park, the entire road is now jammed. Usually when this happens, the only thing left to do is either hope the delivery trucks will find a parallel parking space, or LEAVE. Well, this Penske truck wouldn’t budge.
Now, what would any typical New Yorker do? Honk! Scream! Curse! Make a scene!! Just for the record, there’s a $250 fine for honking in a Brooklyn street.
The Penske driver, finally fed up, drives down to the next block, and finds a parking space.
Finally free, the driver continues his journey down East 18th, almost passing the truck. But he doesn’t continue, he stops, and gets out of his car.
It’s his friend! He runs over to the Penske driver, and hugs him, and has a chat going on! He apologizes for getting upset, they shook hands, and now sitting down for a bit of a chitchat (well, standing, actually).
Meanwhile, former agitated driver’s car is still hanging about on the street during his tea party.
I mean, Really?

New York Weekend Bathroom Stories!

akivacp — Sun, 17 May 2009 20:18:17 +0000

Here’s some stuff you can print out and read in the bathroom.

Once upon a time, in a neighborhood called Flatbush, there is a park down E 16th street in Brooklyn, off of Ave R. I was sitting on the bench, resting my feet, and watched the world around me enjoy their Saturday afternoon doing their favorite activities. Ahead of me, 12 o’clock, bunch of kids playing tennis. 2 o’clock, several college guys were shooting hoops. 10 o’clock, a dozen of teenage boys tossing the ol’ pigskin around. 5 o’clock were parents pushing their young ones on the swings. And 7 o’clock were the more independent children climbing on the playground structure, sliding the slides.
The phone rings. Dad answers his call, and then turns sideways to continue talking. At this point when I realized it, cell phone use is child abuse! His son, unaware that he is no longer being supervised, because a piece of plastic no larger than 3 inches has become his replacement, continued to pedal around on his ground tricycle. (From here we see how important it is to ALWAYS KEEP ALERT if you are a ride operator! NEVER USE YOUR CELL PHONE!) His son pedals into the combined basketball/football courts. Miracle by miracle, he’s been avoided. A child, no older than 3 or 4, is cycling around A FOOTBALL FIELD AND BASKETBALL COURT without his father’s awareness, because you know that this phone call is more important than a child’s life! The two teams now not only have to avoid defense from the other team, and avoid smacking players from the other sports game, but now, they added a new challenge to avoid!!! This naive kid is joyfully playing around, as balls fly over his head, and teams almost trip over his mini auto to score a goal. At this point, you wonder who’s actually the bad guy here. Would it be neglectful daddy who gambled his son’s life on a phone call? Or is it the sports team players who didn’t stop the game and to tell the child to return to the playground? Or is it the lethargic witness, yours truly, who didn’t stop the father, child, or the teams from resuming? Let the judge decide.
After a while, the kid decided to turn around, and pedal to the playground, and became the park’s toll booth security guard by closing the 12 foot gate, making a partition between the playground and the courts, and major E 16th traffic. A guy on his skateboard passes by, opens the gate, and the day continues on.
Now that the gate has opened again, general traffic may continue. A mother, also on her cellphone, is accompanying her child crossing the park. She continues to walk at her pace, walking to the other side of the park. Her young daughter has caught attention of the playground she’s passing through. Mom is already on Ave S. Little damsel has seen that she’s been separated by her mother, she quickly tries to catch up. Guess what? She’s running all alone in the courts between the basketball players and the football players. I guess this is “Abuse your child: Overuse your cell phone” day.
The kid caught up, and hopefully everyone lived happily ever after (except the parents who we hope somebody called Child Protective Services on them). THE END

Girl doing crossword puzzles on the bus (let’s call her Stacy): “Do you read Harry Potter?”
Her friend sitting next to her (let’s call her Brit): “Yeah.”
Stacy: “Who is Harry Potter’s best friend?”
Brit: “How many letters?”
Stacy: “Three letters.”
Brit: “Hmmm…”
I leaned over to look at them. They definitely weren’t blondes. Why the stupid act? It was also a movie. Or two. Or five.
Me (mumbling, but loud enough to hear): “Ron. Ron. Ron. Ronronronronronronronron.”
I gave up, and looked out my window watching the bus whiz down Coney Island Ave.
I guess they gave up or something, and moved on to the next clue. A couple minutes passed.
Brit: “OH!! RON!”
Stacy writes it in, and then exclaims, “IT FITS!”
It took you that long to get it in??? NOW they continued to the next clue.

Overheard on the Q train in Manhattan: “Let’s win the lottery so we can go places and buy stuff.”

Rude Akiva – She Was JUST Trying to Help!

akivacp — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 01:15:20 +0000

So I came off the Amtrak today in PENN Station. Something I don’t normally do, but the hour was late, and so I needed to.
I am still unfamiliar with PENN station, because it’s a labyrinth of train catacombs between the LIRR, NJ Transit, Amtrak, and several subway lines. When I take the LIRR, I come off one track. When I take the NJ Transit, I’m in a complete different section of this large underground building that takes up 3 blocks and runs under Madison Square Garden. Once I finished stalking this guy I sat next to from Philly, I found my place back in the ol’ familiar LIRR area, and then I heard on the PA as I was going down the escalator that connects the Amtrak-LIRR stations, “Far Rockaway, Valley Stream, Cedarhurst, etc. Now boarding track… !”
FAR ROCKAWAY!! THAT’S ME!
Quickly, I went to the ticket machine, and the machine surprisingly printed my tickets quickly for my need.
I ran across looking for someone not blocking the train schedule screen. Far Rockaway… Far Rockaway… Babylon… Jamaica… these schedules are so confusing at last minute boarding!!
I ran over to this girl and asked her, erupting, “Which is the Far Rockaway train?” As if she knows, and I didn’t ask her what track, just the train, stupid me. She started to help out in a way as if I’m riding this for the first time, and she’s giving me a tutorial.
Here’s where my rudeness comes in.
She’s still talking away, and I turn my head around, and looked at the billboard listing all upcoming and boarding trains.
There. Destination: Babylon – Transfer to: Far Rockaway, 11:10. Track 18. My watch: 11:06.
I announced, “Track 18!” And I was right in front of the track entrance. Lucky me. I just ran downstairs before she finished what she was saying, and I didn’t look behind me. Not to even say thank you.
And once I was downstairs, I still had like 2 minutes. I felt awful for treating the girl that way, and I wanted to go back upstairs to say, “Thank you”, but it would be weird to go back up and say thank you. I made one last look upstairs, and I boarded the Babylon-bound train.