A few of you may recall me writing about my antics at the Goldens Bridge train station in December. There had been some vandalism, and I thought I’d cover it up with amusing signs until Metro-North decided to fix it all. The first sign I posted had a picture of a raccoon, and the title said “Cat Found!” Included on the bottom of the sign was a phone number to a voicemail box I registered on the internet. If you call it, I get the message forwarded to my email box as a WAV file. A few months later (now, in March) images of the poster made their rounds on the internet. And I got a bunch of calls (some of which may or may not be from students from an unnamed school that ride my morning train). These are some of the better the messages that I got. My personal favorite is Mr. Captain Obvious, who suggests I should change my phone number. I figured I’d post it up here, since I know some of my readers thought the sign funny, and were wondering if anyone would call.

I figured this would be an opportune time to post a bunch of the pictures I’ve taken during the snow. Some of the pictures I know I’ve posted before, but I added them all to a nice new gallery called Winter on the Harlem Line. I have a lot more photos which I’ll be scrounging up and adding to the gallery when I can.

[View with PicLens]

 

I left work a bit early today as I wasn’t feeling too spectacular, and on my way out of the station I noticed a bunch of cardboard boxes littering the ground…

Boxes? Are there good things inside?

Apparently Goldens Bridge has spiffy new machines for the folks that park in the metered section of the lot.

Ooooh, shiny…

I figured that I would take a few photos of the new machines. But then some guy walked up to me and started laughing at me. Then he pulled out his camera and also started taking photos. Oh well, that is about all the noteworthy stories to come out of Goldens Bridge for the past month or so. The only thing that could possibly be more noteworthy than that is if they actually washed the windows. Am I the only one that finds it annoying when somebody writes “Wash Me” in the dust of a dirty window? Except instead of writing “Wash Me” they draw the one thing that everybody on the planet Earth, irrelevant of their artistic skill, knows how to draw: a crude cock and balls. Sometimes I do think that those people that are supposed to be washing the stations are sleeping on the job…

A thick blanket of snow has covered New York today, a snow some media dramaqueens have called a “snowpocalypse”. I must admit I laugh every time I hear that term. While some folks were collectively crapping their pants due to snow, I instead decided to take a walk (after sleeping late of course, work was cancelled after all). Not far from my house (and from Goldens Bridge station) is an old railroad bridge with a lonely numerical designation: L-158. With the area covered in snow, it looked even more lonely.

Additional photos of L-158 can be found in the image gallery.

L-158 was once a railroad bridge, though the tracks are long gone. It was originally built in 1883 over Rondout Creek near Kingston, NY. In 1904 it was dismantled and reconstructed in Goldens Bridge to cover the expanding reservoir. The tracks were part of the Lake Mahopac Branch, which opened in 1872, and went from Goldens Bridge to Lake Mahopac. The Lake Mahopac Branch ended service in 1959, and the tracks were removed soon after. In 1978 L-158 was listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

All historical information and photographs come from Louis Grogan’s book The Coming of the New York and Harlem Railroad. Years for the photos above are as follows: 1951, 1948 and 1946

Ever since I moved to Goldens Bridge, I’ve always been fascinated by this bridge. It is situated on land owned by the DEP, and thus you must have a Watershed Access Pass in order to visit. I have a rowboat on the Muscoot Reservoir, and many summer days I went out on the water rowing underneath the bridge. And as witnessed by the photo gallery, took way too many pictures of the bridge. I’m really longing for the return of the spring and summer so I can go out and row again, and to see L-158 surrounded by greenery, as opposed to today’s snowfall.

Photos of Railroad Bridge L-158 in Goldens Bridge, NY. The bridge is on DEP-owned land, which you can visit with an Access Pass. Some of the photos were taken from an alternate vantage point, as I have a boat in the Muscoot Reservoir, and have photographed the bridge from the water level.

[View with PicLens]

 

When I encounter people that I consider creepy on the train, especially the ones that attempt to talk to me, I really try not to be rude (at least to their face. Because then I end up going and writing about them, which I suppose could be construed as a rude act). In recent days, this has been difficult. When someone sticks out their hand for a handshake, though you really don’t want to shake it, what exactly do you do? Hand shaking is an important part of our culture of meeting people. Articles get written about how people perceive you based on how firm your handshake is. So really, what do you do? If you don’t shake it, you’re just an asshole. And so, in an effort to not be an asshole, I reluctantly shake their hand. And they prolong it as much as possible. And I wonder when the hell I am going to get my hand back. So thus, I am now armed with this:

This morning was one of those times. There is a man at Goldens Bridge I see every once and a while. He always carries a bag, and he never walks properly, he always scuffs his feet on the ground. He reminds me significantly of a friend of my father’s, which may be the only reason why I end up talking to him each time. He very well could be the long lost brother that was dropped on his head as a baby of my father’s friend. Last week I saw him and he did the handshake thing. Oh and he prolonged it as much as possible. But I think you’d also be considered an asshole if you asked for your hand back. Anyways, today we had a conversation on the platform, it went something like this (He’s in bold):

“Hi!”
“Hello, how are you?”
“I got a new jacket”
He then proceeded to stroke the sleeve of the new jacket. At that point, he was about to walk away, but something brought him back.

“So where is your laptop? You don’t have your laptop today?”
“Oh I have it, it is in my bag.”
“So where do you work in White Plains?”
“At FUJIFILM.”
“Oh nice!” At this point he sounded very impressed.
“Let me guess, you file papers there?”
Wait… what? I file papers? That is so wrong. Are you saying that because I am female? Because I look young? Shit. At this point the train is coming, and so I get on. And he disappeared in the crowd of people. I’ll see him again, I know I will. I just hope the next encounter will not be quite as awkward.

As my evening train pulled into Goldens Bridge, I stood near the doors, quite puzzled as the train gradually slowed and stopped. I was thinking in my head, “What? The engineer hasn’t fully platformed yet!” (yes, I believe it is acceptable to use “platform” as a verb!) Anyways, not platforming isn’t unheard of. And overshooting the platform tends to happen in the fall, when the leaves make it harder for the train to brake. Normally the engineer goes forward or back to get the train in the right spot, and then the doors open. So then I was pretty damn surprised when the doors did open.

And then I realized the train was on the platform. But it was so completely dark, it was near impossible to see it! Who turned out the lights in Goldens Bridge?!

Looking down the platform as the train pulls away. Right there in the middle is the ticket machine. Good luck seeing that, though.

It was completely black in the stairwell, and in the vestibule. I held on for dear life to the banister going down the stairs. I thought briefly about falling down, breaking my leg, and suing the MTA, but then I was like, shit, the MTA doesn’t have any money. I’d be getting hate mail on the blog, because everybody’s fares would be going up to pay for my bum leg. “Thanks a lot, ****in’ Cat Girl!”

Good to know the lights outside are on, but not inside

In other news, I’ve been sporting my new hat this week. Like all my animal hats, they come from Boshi Basiik. I’ve been asked so many times on the train where I bought my hats, I asked for some business cards when I bought the hat. So next time anybody asks, I’ve got a card for you!

Me, the new hat, and the return of the masked bus rider! I look like a fool, but I’m trying my best not to burst out in laughter at his expression.

Oh, and as a final note, if you haven’t checked out the MTA’s new site you certainly should. The new service and delays status for the subways, bus, rail, and bridges is pretty awesome. As is the new Metro North Train Time.

Alright, let me just say it now, but I love it when people from the MTA read my blog. Alright, alright, I don’t really know if anyone from there or Metro-North read my blog. What I do know, is that a lot of people found my blog the past few days, specifically searching for a phrase. And what phrase is that, do you ask? Goldens Bridge vandalism, and Goldens Bridge graffiti.

The other thing that I know is that today somebody was busy over at Goldens Bridge. Replacing every broken pane of glass, and covering over all of the graffiti. Now that graffiti had been there a few days shy of a month. Though exactly a week after posting embarrasing (for the MTA) photos of the destruction, it is now fixed. What service! Of course it is possible that nobody important read this blog at all, but I prefer to believe my delusions of grandeur.

Unfortunately, I now have no further excuse for putting up crazy posters in the train station. I have nothing ugly to cover up! Maybe some day, the posters will come back. But until then, enjoy a little sound clip. Somebody did in fact call the telephone number on one of the Waldo posters, and left me a message. Perhaps that whole “Operation Cover Up Graffiti & Broken Glass” was not as much of a failure as I thought it to be.

I personally thought that last week’s Cat Found poster was pretty funny. They were slowly taken down one by one, but at least one of the posters survived the entire week. My goal was to again, cover up the graffiti, and now the broken glass, with something a bit more amusing. The poster I hung last night was somewhat more subtle.

The name Waldo should give it away. Don’t fix that glass Metro North, it looks sexy as-is.

Cover up that graffiti!

Well, let’s just say it was a miserable failure. The signs did not last 24 hours in the station. By morning time, six of the seven were gone, and one was moved in the corner and partially crumpled. If an MTA worker did this, I could understand. But then that means that they employ workers to go into stations and pull down posters. And do only that. Because they sure as hell didn’t clean the station. The same immature penis drawings in the dirt that have been there for months are still there. The graffiti is still there, the broken glass on the floor is still there. I will just assume that I pissed off the graffiti artist. And they certainly didn’t want their handiwork covered up.

This morning marked the arrival of our new shuttle bus. Within minutes of waiting, however, it seemed as though we were about to get hijacked by a masked man. Upon further scrutiny it seemed as though we were mistaken: it was just another passenger waiting out in the bitter cold for a bus that was going to be late. Typical.

Though the new bus is nice, I must admit. It turns out that the robot man is not our driver, it is some other guy. And we thought the robot drove slow, this as yet un-nicknamed fellow is even slower. Even poor bag lady missed her train (boo hoo). Just the part that the bus no longer picks us up in front of the train station isn’t the most fun. At least there you could wait in the vestibule, which is at times warmer even than the waiting room. Now we get picked up across the street by the Greyhound stop, and thus have no warm place to wait. (and now I deserve a good sarcastic boo hoo for myself).

Another side effect of the cold weather is that the pigeons begin to sneak inside the train station. I had been wondering where they were for a month or so now. Most people think pigeons are dumb, but they have to have some smarts to know they’d rather be inside than out in the cold, and practice amusing methods of getting in. I hadn’t seen any of them inside until today. A pigeon tore through the upstairs waiting room earlier this evening, flying over the people waiting for their (late) trains. Just in general freaking people out. Terrorizing the train riders, though today nobody ran off screaming. One of these times I need to capture that on video.

After writing all of this, it seems that everything is pretty normal over in White Plains. But on the home front, Goldens Bridge, it seems that everything is not. Here we don’t have pigeons, but people terrorizing the station. I wouldn’t be surprised if it is the obnoxious area skater kids, drunk on a weekend with nothing else better to do. They’re probably the ones to blame for the graffiti I mentioned before (and some new graffiti that appeared this afternoon), but maybe not for the weekend’s escapade of kicking in all the glass panels on all the doors of the south side vestibule. Maybe it was creepy, perpetually drunk Santa Claus. Who knows? Though, uhh, Metro-North? I can live with the fact that you never wash the windows. I suppose I will live, albeit a little frustrated, when you don’t clean up the graffiti. But umm… will you at least fix the glass? Is this train station even safe? Should I be carrying mace around on my keychain?