Normally, this would be no big deal. I can most certainly find loads of things to fill a weekend right here in my own little corner of the borough. From window shopping on Franklin Street to brunch on Manhattan Ave to spending time at a friend’s apartment – there is a ton to do in Greenpoint.
However, Sunday morning (and the next few Sunday mornings), I was committed to being in Carroll Gardens by 10AM. Usually, a quick trip on the G, 30 minutes door-to-door. This Sunday morning, however, was a different story. I looked at the MTA trip planner to make sure I knew the quickest route and it directed me to take the G shuttle to Hoyt-Schemerhorn and transfer to the B75.
Getting there was no big deal. The G shuttle was coming as I crossed Greenpoint Avenue and, being 9ish on a Sunday morning there was no traffic. It was kind of cool, even, to see the route that you normally take underground from street level. I arrived at Hoyt-Schemerhorn in about 30 minutes, supposedly plenty of time to transfer to the B75. If I could find it. It took a while. By the time I found the bus stop, there wasn’t another one scheduled to arrive for over 30 minutes. Awesome. I walked the 17 blocks to the house where I was baby sitting and arrived only about 10 minutes later than I had planned. OK. A little confusing, but, overall, not so bad.
Coming back to the ‘hood was a different story.
It was pouring rain. Cold, January pouring rain, a little after 5 PM on a Sunday night. I found the right bus stop right away, but, again, being Sunday, there wasn’t another one coming for 30 minutes. Of course. So, I hoofed it through the downpour to the G train shuttle. Where I waited. And waited. Various buses pulled up. Everyone standing around me seemed very confused that, even though the buses had the bus number and where they were headed on the front, they weren’t the G train shuttle. Finally, when the shuttle did arrive, the confused guy in front of me stepped up into the bus and then, even though he wanted to be on it, was so confused, he stepped back, making us all step back, making me step into a cold, deep puddle.
The shuttle, even though it was only the second stop, was really crowded and the driver wasn’t announcing stops. Everyone on the bus was confused, wiping down the foggy windows with their sleeves or gloves and peering out into the rain in vain attempts to figure out if they were nearing their stop.
When the shuttle finally arrived at the Greenpoint Ave stop, the driver turned onto Greenpoint and drove about halfway down to McGuiness before stopping – with half the bus shouting “Stop! Where are you going?”. Of course, since he hadn’t deemed it important to tell anyone on the shuttle when he was approaching the various stops, no one knew that he hadn’t skipped it.
I finally made it back to my apartment, about an hour and 15 minutes after I had left Carroll Gardens, soaked, cold and exhausted.
Can’t wait till next weekend!
Photo ©Briana Campbell, 2009