Breakdowns
This is just to announce that I am trying, in my apprehension about the impending doormen's strike, to achieve a sense of proportion by remembering the pluck of Ms NOLA's homeless parents. Sometimes it works.
I don't expect any sympathy. Most people have no idea what it's like to ride an elevator home, much less of what it's like to rely on doormen. I expect that most Americans hardly ever hear the word spoken live, and that some might wonder just what a "doorman" is. If the guys go on strike this time, then I'll try to use the massive inconvenience as a occasion for explaining the dependency that I've built up over twenty-six years as someone who is "getting older."
I was pretty ticked at the Times for not covering the negotiations better; the paper is following its detestable party line: New Yorkers take inconvenience in stride, even creatively. Anybody not smiling for the camera, proposing ingenious solutions, or telling heart-warming stories about new friendships made in crisis is ignored by the press as a spoilsport.
In mitigation, I noted the ample coverage today of the tram breakdown. How was the bathroom problem handled in the eleven-hour wait for rescue? Well, it was dealt with more or less effectively. Creatively, even.
