Elevator Staff for the MTA

At my subway stop, one has a choice to make: to go through the tunnel, and up a huge hill, or to take the elevator. For me, the elevator wins every time, as the tunnel is really long and dark and creepy, and the hill is very steep.

Lucky for me, one of the four elevators (one or two of which actually work at any given time) has an MTA elevator operator. I see these people daily, and each one of them makes me happy in a different way. No, really, I'm serious for once.

The first guy is a jolly fat man, with large bifocals and gray hair. He is gregarious and seems to enjoy his work. All day long, you can hear him saying, "everybody ready now, everybody ready? here we go! next elevator please!"

The second guy is an opera aficionado. Brings in a small boombox and blasts La Boheme. Doesn't talk.

The third guy pasted up a picture of Barack Obama with the headline "Change Has Come", and mostly does crosswords.

The fourth operator is a woman who doesn't talk much, seems really bitter/irritated, and I like her because she is comfortingly normal.

To the elevator operators: the unsung heroes of the MTA.

Rambo is soooo popular.

So Ace went to Central Park a coupla days ago with Rambo (our little dachshund/yorkie mix), and sat down on a bench. Sitting across from him was a guy in a baseball cap, perhaps sleeping. When this guy saw Rambo, he approached Ace, and starting asking about him, and talking about how great Rambo's eyes were. Ace recognized the voice, but couldn't place it. It was bearlike, and deep. The man looked up, revealing his face, and Ace realized that Tom Waits was petting and complimenting our dog.