Miss Heather Gets A Gift

March 25, 2010 ·
Filed under: 11222, Crosstown Local, Greenpoint, Greenpoint Brooklyn, Greenpoint Magic

Today has been pretty much everything I wanted it to be. I slept in late, kept off the computer and had myself some much-needed “me” time. I will not lie to you: it was nice, if a little boring. This was in fact the purpose of the exercise. Then I went to work— and my day took a very interesting turn.

When I arrived Johnny and Frantz slid this package over the counter. As you can see it is addressed to yours truly. It is from Glasgow, Scotland. I know no one in Glasglow, Scotland— but apparently someone there knows me. After Johnny made a crack about not wanting to catch my anthrax I opened the parcel. What was inside, well, left us all dumbstruck.

My new friend writes:

…Awhile ago you had a photo of the shop IMac (iBoob as Fritz called it) and more importantly the keyboard. You will have found enclosed all the keys from a dead one I had lying around the flat …So have fun replacing dirty keys with clean ones and keep up the good work. All the best,

Chromeburger

P.S.: I used to live in Dublin, Ireland. The trains were horrible and unreliable so I feel your pain re. the G & 7.

Thank you for your generosity, Chromeburger. It is greatly appreciated. As it would happen we have since replaced our Mac with a new(er) model.

As you can see it has all its keys. However, like anything else in the junk shop, I am certain it will get jacked-up eventually and your thoughtful gift will come in handy. It is only a matter of time.

Other than that I honestly don’t know else what to say other than perhaps I am both pleased and a bit disturbed that the Crosstown Local’s dubious reputation is, in fact, well known abroad.

Miss Heather

Posted by missheather 4 Comments

This Is Why I Like Teenagers

May 6, 2009 ·
Filed under: Crosstown Local, Greenpoint Magic

(Or, The G Train Strikes Back)

This morning my parents made their return to the Land of Enchantment. Our week long vacation seeing the sights of this fair cityÂ (the fun stuff, not the offal shilled in travel brochures) was pretty uneventful. That is until we decided to go to Manducatis last night for dinner. Or more accurately when we decided to come home via (you guessed it) the G train. For a Tuesday evening the train was curiously crowded. Mostly with teenagers in a very lively mood. I chose to sit next to them. My parents— not being acclimatized to such shenanigans (as are most retirees)— kept their distance. In hindsight this was an excellent decision on their part, as you will learn.

After we got off at Greenpoint Avenue we dropped by the local wine store and headed home. It was as I was headed up the stairs of our apartment building that the Mister spied something nested in the hood of my jacket. Upon closer inspection he told me what it was. Follows is my reply:

You’re kidding, right?

No. He wasn’t.

After we established that the prophylactic in question was indeed unused I ceased to care. My mother (who can be seen recoiling in horror in the background of the above photograph which was taken by Mister Heather*) felt differently. Now that I have had time to think about it, it isn’t so much the fact that someone saw fit to use me as some kind of walking advertisement for safe sex that troubles me. I’ve had lit cigarettes flung at my person with amazing accuracy. And worse. Public humiliation no longer fazes me. Rather, it’s the fact that I walked 2-3 city blocks with this hilarious item in tow and no one seemed to notice. Or care.

In closing I’d like to give a heaping helping of New York Shitty gratitude to those mischievous youths on the Smith – 9th bound G train. You gave my parents the quintessential Crosstown Local experience. Thanks guys!

Miss Heather

*Who then proceeded to tell my parents: