SlipNot had a small fleet of six delivery vans and three
cars. The vans were for large orders
that needed to get to their best customers in the Tri-State area. While the company relied heavily on UPS and
FedEx for the bulk of their deliveries, it also offered same-day service to its
largest customers in the area. Of
course, it cost a little more, but the heavy hitters never seemed to balk at
the price. This kept those vans awfully
busy. As luck had it, all of the vans
and two of the cars were out, taking samples and orders to our clients in New
Jersey, Connecticut and the five boroughs of New York. All that was left was a 2002 Ford Focus
wagon, which I signed out. I loaded
everything into the back and headed out into the street.
One of the nicest features of New York City is that it’s laid
out on a grid. The avenues run north to
south (or south to north) and the numbered streets all run to the east or to
the west. Things can get a bit muddled
down in the Village, but for the most part, New York is easily navigated. I took First Avenue north to 57th
and took a left over to the West Side.
57th is one of those unusual streets that runs in two directions. This means it’s four
lanes wide and during the middle of the day, traffic flows pretty quickly. Most of the time though, I avoided it, but on
that day, I thought I’d take my time and watch the sights. The weather was gorgeous outside, a perfect
late spring day. All the beautiful young
women of the city had shed their bulky winter coats and were taking to the
sidewalks in smartly tailored business suits, skirts, and colorful tops. I don’t think it’s all that sexist to say
that you can tell a city is feeling good when it’s women are looking good. And if it is sexist, that’s just too
bad. I moved at the sedate speed that
the flow of traffic allowed, admiring the view, with the windows open and the
car stereo up at an absurdly high volume.
One of the luxuries of driving cross-town in New York is the
multitude of traffic lights that catch you in their web. When the weather is good and you’re really
lucky, the light will turn red just as you arrive at the intersection. You are then treated to a massive procession
of pedestrians walking directly in front of you and your eye may feel free to
select whichever pretty face or curvaceous figure comes into view for closer
appraisal. Perhaps the best of these
places is the intersection of 57th and 5th, which was
right where I found myself on that morning.
When the light changed back to green, I was tempted to remain parked in
this sweet spot and I would have too, if it weren’t for the block-long pile of
cars and trucks impatiently waiting behind me.
Hell! How was it my fault they
didn’t get the “A Position” that I’d scored?
Still, for the sake of propriety and to avoid certain bodily injury, I
put the car in gear and continued on my way, leaving all of the lovelies that
were just then beginning to gather at the two opposites curbs to wait for their
turns to cross.
As I got over to 8th Avenue, I started to pay
closer attention to what I was doing.
Universal Hair was somewhere between 9th and 10th
Avenue and I couldn’t quite remember exactly where it was. I also had neglected to write down the
address, so I didn’t know whether the studio was going to appear on the right
or the left side of the street. As I was
crossing 9th Avenue, I saw that I was about to pile into a
bottleneck of traffic that was being caused by a truck that had double-parked
in the right hand lane. I merged to the left
and when I looked up, I saw Universal Hair on my left hand side, as I drove
past it.
Shit.
The one really bad thing about driving in a city that’s laid
out on a grid is that when you pass your intended destination, you have the
rare privilege of driving all the way around the block so that you might get
another crack at actually arriving there.
In normal mid-day traffic, this could take about 10 minutes, unless
there are a lot of trucks double-parked, in which case it could be anybody’s
guess. Once, while driving west on a
side street in midtown Manhattan I’d gotten stuck in what New Yorkers
laughingly refer to as “gridlock”. A
truck was unloading in the only open lane and everything behind it ground to a
halt. For over an hour, nothing
moved. I’d spotted a deli just a few
yards in front of where I was stopped, so I had locked up my car, entered the
deli, ordered a smoked ham and turkey sandwich on rye with Swiss and mustard
(with kosher dill pickle, of course), grabbed a couple bottles of beer out of
the cooler, paid for it, and returned to my vehicle without the traffic having
moved so much as an inch. I then enjoyed
my repast, listened to the radio, and read the story about the previous
evening’s Mets/Pirates game in the Daily News, but still there had been no
progress on the street to report. I
might as well have just parked there for the night.
With this memory fresh in my mind and with the realization
that downing a couple beers and a sandwich and arriving an hour later than I
already was would make this little delivery job an enormous pain in the ass, I
had to find a creative alternative. I
just knew a trip around 57th Street was going to suck.
The next installment will be posted on December 9.
If you'd like to read the entire book today, GO
HERE.
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