Subway Pregnancy (October 2002)

i know it has been quite the while since the last installment of Things That Could Only Happen To Amy... but i'm pleased to inform you that the queen of klutz has NOT lost her touch. it's just that i've been mostly engaging in novice activities of late... you know, punching oneself in the face, slamming into street signs, tripping down steps, falling off couches. i didn't feel they warranted mass e-mailage. and i've had my share of escapades and adventures as well, some of them QUITE hilarious, but they didn't really beg to be told in e-mail form. however, something happened today that inspired me to write, so that once again you may laugh at my expense. that's what i'm here for.

there are a lot of things that you will find in new york that you'd be hard pressed to find anywhere else in the world. for example, a drag queen walking arm-and-arm with a well-dressed man in a business suit. only in new york. also, today i saw a woman bent over sideways in a contorted fashion, applying lipstick using the side mirror of a car (i don't think it was hers), singing at the top of her lungs. only in new york. but nothing screams "manhattan" louder than the new york city subway system.you simply can't find anything like it anywhere else. oh, i know there are other cities with mass transit. i've been to boston and to paris and have experienced both modes of underground transportation. but it's not so much the subway itself that makes it distinct. it's the stuff that goes on after "stand clear of the closing doors" that begs to be told. so without further adieu, i present to you...

New York City Mass Transit: The Inside Story, Part I
***
it was 4:15 pm, and i realized that i needed to MOVE IT. i had just spent the day hanging out with my friend erik in manhattan, and i needed to be back in brooklyn at 5:00 to tutor. i was having VERY intense feminine issues (apologies to the squeamish), i was experiencing Massive Mood Swings and i felt like a herd of angry rhinoceroses (rhinoceri?) had ripped out my abdomen and tap danced on it. needless to say, i was less than thrilled about the prospect of trekking all the way up to union square from nyu, getting on the Q train and riding it alllllllll the way to newkirk avenue in brooklyn. but duty called, so i dragged myself to 14th street and got myself on a Q express. and ALL i wanted.... was a seat. my entire body was aching, my legs were exhausted from the very brisk walk to union square, and my moods were shifting at the speed of sound. i would have sacrificed minor body parts in exchange for a seat at that moment. but, of course, it's 4:30 on a wednesday and the trains are packed.

keep in mind that i have been on anti-Female Time medicine all day, and i was feeling a tad drowsy. so drowsy, in fact, that i nearly fell asleep standing up as i made my way toward lower manhattan. not good. at each stop, i reassured myself that SOMEONE would get off the train, and i vowed that i would do whatever necessary in order to obtain that vacant seat. nothing was too extreme. leaping over people, stepping on small children, loudly announcing i had leprosy... ANYTHING. canal street comes and i eagerly look around for the individual who would be surrendering their seat. not a soul so much as blinked. and, of course, the entire population of chinatown enters the train at canal street. so now, not only am i seatless, but i'm also smushed between two very old chinese ladies who are talking about something in mandarin. and the conversation must have been very exciting, because they were talking at a pitch that is only dogs should be able to hear. shrill, loud and piercing. i suppressed many an urge that was just not of God. dekalb avenue came and the Squawking Sisters departed.

i breathed a prayer of thanks and looked around for the seat i KNEW was coming. but in the commotion i had missed my chance. my legs are now BURNING. the rhinos on my abdomen grew more intense. my brain was still recovering from the shrillness of the chinese women. but i held strong, CONVINCED that atlantic avenue was to be my salvation. atlantic... not a soul moved. 7th ave... nothing. prospect park... niente. i was on the verge of tears when suddenly... *gasp*... we arrived at church avenue and TWO WHOLE ENTIRE PEOPLE GOT OFF THE TRAIN!!! i was so excited i nearly wet my pants in relief (don't ask). i moved to sit down...and there she was.

Lady With Cute Child.

i saw what was happening from the moment she got on the train. i felt it in my spirit. here i was, twenty-something blond girl in the prime of my youth... and there she was, 30-something working mom carrying BEAUTIFUL approximately 3-year-old girl and carrying 8 trillion bags plus a mcdonald's happy meal for her darling dear.

ew.

but what could i do? despite my earlier vows to let the ends justify the means in terms of securing my seat, i would appear nearly demonic to the other passengers if i ran over and stole that seat from the little girl. so, with as much Joy and Christian Love as i could muster, i stepped aside and watched her settle down in the seat. i looked heavenward, just begging for relief, when Happy Meal Lady glanced over at me. she kind of tilted her head and regarded me quizzically, and then opened her mouth to inquire something that was on her heart.

"Are you pregnant?"

now, i have never in my life claimed to be petite. i have no problem with this-- you just don't play sports for fifteen straight years and expect to be twiggy. so skinny i am not. but PREGNANT?!?!?!?!? did i neglect THAT MANY situps?? did i eat THAT MANY slices of juniors' cheesecake?

let me take this opportunity to announce something to all of you. if you do not seen an ACTUAL BABY coming out from a woman, do not ask her if she is pregnant. just don't do it.

keep in mind that my currently emotional state is Highly Volatile. being called pregant in the throes of Feminine Fun Time is a no-no. so for about five seconds i sat by and watch every mote of self-esteem that i had fly out the window, and i DESPERATELY tried to regain my composure. not easy, however, because this was not a quiet musing to herself. this woman had one of those voices that could cut glass, so at least half the train is now swiveling around to possibly catch a glimpse at the glowing mother-to-be. oh i was glowing all right... i was approximately 19 different shades of red. so as i am desperately trying to pick up the shards of my shattered ego, i realize the problem. my scarf was laying flat across my chest and was covering up my purse, which was hanging DIRECTLY in front of my abdominal area. i exhaled an ENORMOUS amount of air and then proceeded to reply, "oh! no no, just my purse. ha ha!" i attempted to swivel around in the middle of my sentence and speak rather loudly so that the other passengers would also hear and thus i would, at least in my mind, be acquitted... but what ended up happening was that i just kept repeating myself and spinning around haphazardly. "pregnant?? *sviwel* ME??? oh no, just my purse. *swivel* see, my SCARF... funny story... my SCARF was covering up my BAG!! you see? *swivel* see, the BAG looked like a BABY. ha ha! there's no BABY! just a BAG!"

by this point the people on the subway have lost all interest. Happy Meal Lady is now, once again, looking at me quizzically and holding onto her child a little tighter. the child, incidentally, was happily stuffing a hamburger in her hair for most of the proceedings with a brief pause to drop the roll on the floor. it landed on my sneaker.

newkirk avenue arrived and i SPRINTED off of the train. approximately one minute later, i realized how side-splittingly hilarious the whole thing was, and proceeded to leave the subway station guffawing like a hyena. every once in a while i would just picture the scene in my mind and burst out laughing again. "PREGNANT!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!" i think i alienated more people on the way OUT of the station than i did on the actual train.

moral of the story? i don't know. don't be a woman. stop at NOTHING to get a seat on the Q train. and never... EVER... assume pregnancy.

The Slam Heard Round The World (March 2002)

hello all.

many of you may remember my last installment of Amy's Great Adventures, where the headline might have been "Alto Gets Decked in the Face With Cross Before Gospel Choir Concert." if you missed it, please let me know so that i can bring you up to date on my latest acts of physical klutzdom. that being said, allow me to entertain you once again with my amazing ability to thrust myself into situations that cause me physical pain in bizarre ways.

Episode 14: The Slam Heard Round The World
(editor's note: episode numbers are COMPLETELY arbitrary and mean nothing.)

you know how, sometimes, you get out of a car and go to shut the door and find 10,000 watts of electricity searing through your body? okay, maybe not 10,000 watts, but i think we all know how annoying the "car door shock" is to unsuspecting drivers and passengers. i hate it. for those who are still confused, it's the same phenomenon that occurs when your "friends" used to scuff their socks on the carpet and then come up and touch you. unacceptable in every way.

so last night i arrived at stop & shop up in good ol' hyde park, ny (motto: We Have More Historical Sites Than Traffic Lights!) to pick up some essentials. i proceeded to get out of the car and make a move to shut the door behind me. before i could actually touch the door, however, warning bells went off in my head, saying "DON'T TOUCH THAT DOOR! YOU'LL GET SHOCKED AND JUMP MANY FEET UP IN THE AIR, AND PEOPLE IN THE PARKING LOT WILL STARE AND LAUGH AT YOU!" thank goodness for those bells. i certainly didn't want anyone to laugh at my physical misfortune.

i heeded my warning bells and decided on Plan B. which was, of course, to shut the door by grabbing onto the INSIDE door handle and yanking with all my might. i'll give you a moment to process that.

some of you might be sitting here, thinking, "anyone with an I.Q. higher than cheese would realize this is a horrific idea. i mean, you're just ASKING to get your finger/hand/arm slammed in the door!" and to that i reply, "HA! i did nothing of the sort! i slammed my FACE in the door."

yes, that's right. while i managed to get my upper appendages out of the way, i conveniently forgot to remove my face. and therefore managed to slam the car door, full force, into the side of my head. the good news is that the entire left side of my face was numb for about a minute, so i had a little bit of time to make sense of what had just happened before the pain set in. once the pain set in, i thought it might be a good idea to check the situation out, so i proceeded to reach back with my hand and make sure my face was intact. indeed it was, but my hand came back to me (apologies to the squeamish) covered in blood.

PANIC TIME!!! i'm actually a pretty good panicker-- i manage to keep it together for the most part during possible emergency situations. the only problem is that i often act on the first urge that hits me. for example, upon realizing that there was blood coming from somewhere on the left side of my face, i thought, "okay! i need something to put on the wound! a towel or something!" *looks frantically for something to use* "i know! i'll use my shirt!" *begins to remove shirt... realizes there is nothing on underneath shirt*

fortunately, i had just enough common sense to remember that i really didn't want to flash the parking lot, and kept the shirt on... though i was inches away from violating most of the cars in the parking lot. i finally found some napkins in the bottom of the car and stuck them on my head. i tried to situate myself in the car so that i could see my head in the rearview mirror, but the light wasn't good enough so i couldn't really see what had happened. i then decided that i needed to quickly drive home, still holding the wad of paper towels up to my head, and reassess the situation. i got in the car and began driving out of the parking lot. halfway across, i checked the paper towels and realized that there was a LOT less blood than when i started. i checked with another one-- even less. so i decided to go back to the parking lot instead of driving home in a panic. after parking back in my spot, i tried again to check with the rearview mirror and the side mirror and couldn't really tell what was going on, but the bleeding had basically stopped. i felt okay... not at all dizzy... and i really needed to buy contact lens solution. so i kept a napkin close at hand, put my hood up, and proceeded into stop & shop.

now. remember that my reasoning for not wanting to get shocked was to avoid public embarrassment. upon coming out of the store, i realized that there was a woman sitting in the car next to mine who had been watching the whole ordeal. so first she saw me slam my car door into the side of my face and then proceed to begin to rip off my shirt. then she saw me dive into the car and stick napkins to the side of my head, and then start sticking my face up to the rearview mirror. next she saw me peel out of the parking lot, only to return about 30 seconds later. then she saw me stick my face up to the mirror once again before getting out of the car and kneeling on the pavement while sticking my ear up next to the side mirror. finally, she saw me put my hood up (it was about 65 degrees with not a cloud in the sky) and walk into stop & shop. and i wonder why people wonder about me sometimes.

after getting home and assessing the situation, i found that the only damage was a small but somewhat deep cut on the back of my left ear. i have NO idea how such a small cut could produce that much blood, but everybody says head wounds bleed like nobody's business. i don't ask questions. i proceeded to tell the story to my mother, whose response was "there's a first aid kit in the glove compartment. did you remember to pick up the ice cream cake for tomorrow?"

my mother, ladies and gentlemen.

moral of the story? i don't know. probably something like "don't slam your head in a car door." and if you do, wear an undershirt.