by jemma margaret
You know you live in a real city when directions are always accompanied by a metro stop (and along those lines the fact that I don’t know my closest metro stop is indicative I haven’t had any visitors here).
Citizens of these real cities carry around two maps in their head.
The roughly topographical one for walking:
I can count on one slightly mutated hand the number of times I have taken the metro since arriving here (6). So far experiences have been positive. It’s very regular, affordable, and comprehensive. My favorite part is that sometimes the cars aren’t stopped when the doors open. Parisians like to live dangerously.
In New York, to the contrary, I took the metro all the time (let’s hear it for identical vocabulary between Paris and New York–take that London!). This was back when the M was brown and ran above my head, if you know what I mean. Many a cold night I would stand at the Harold Square stop hoping that the Q or W would arrive before the R or N, so I wouldn’t have to decide whether to go express or local on the yellow line…those were the days.
Well, dear readers, someone far and dear to me has just yesterday launched a product that captures the essence of the love and frustration generated by those trains and tunnels of public transportation. On top of its metaphorical resonance, it’s a handsome object and a clever toy.
Congratulations, Bobby. A free transfer is also available by walking to the 63rd-Lexington Street Station and using your metrocard.