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  • Broken Car Window Throws Off Local Man’s Day

    By Matthew Groff

    April 3, 2024, 11:37am

    When I walked out of my apartment on Tuesday morning, it was an overcast and drizzly day, which felt appropriate for having to move my car for the street sweeper, as Alt Side Parking is one of my least favorite “New York” things that I have to do, sometimes twice a week. The closer I got to my car, I noticed that the car parked behind me had their back window smashed out. “That sucks,” was my first thought. And then I saw my car…

    “This really sucks,” was my next thought.

    And though I knew that my whole day just got shot to shit, I wasn’t that upset. I called my insurance company, and got that process started. A woman came up to my car and told me that she also got her back window smashed in (four cars total got broken into) and she just called the cops who were on the way. I texted my wife and let her know what had happened, and she was pretty annoyed.

    My insurance put me in contact with a window replacement company, and I was making arrangements with them when the cops rolled up. Clearly, most people don’t put the glass people on hold, because when I told him I needed to speak to the police, he seemed annoyed with me. Anyway, I was raised that when the cops show up, you talk to them right away.

    The police took a statement from me, said they were sorry for the situation, and wanted to know if anything was stolen. A cooler bag, I said. That worth anything, the cop asked. No, it was an old cooler bag, I answered. So nothing was stolen, the cop finished. Nothing was stolen, I agreed. The cops were nice, but I think we all knew that there wasn’t anything they could do, but I appreciate the effort.

    I called the glass people back, and made arrangements for them to come replace the window on Wednesday. I went to the hardware store on the block and got some duct tape and plastic to cover up the window. The wife came out and helped me with it. Not our best work, but it would do.

    Then it really started raining.

    Then the glass people called back saying that they had to reschedule because of the three days of rain we were about to get. How does Friday afternoon sound, they asked. Not good, I said. We’ll see you on Friday afternoon, they told me.

    Then I got annoyed. Not with the glass people, because logically I get it. You can’t replace windows in the rain, as coming out to your car is their whole business. What I was annoyed at was that somehow having to reschedule made me feel like I wasn’t in control of this situation anymore.

    Then I checked on the plastic over the widow to find out that our “not the best work”, in fact, was regular “bad” work; Water was getting in the car.

    Then I really felt powerless. Three days of rain, water getting into the car, and the new window won’t show up until Friday afternoon.

    Luckily, I have a wife who can fight through my annoyance and powerlessness, when it occasionally happens to me, and found a nearby parking garage for the car to sit in for the next three days. Which is smart and makes sense, and though costs us some money, at least the car is staying dry.

    And through all of this, my annoyance and having my day thrown off, I never thought about the person who broke into my car. I never felt anger at this faceless person, or entertained feelings of wanting to get revenge, and any angsty questions of “why did this have to happen to me?”

    This whole thing feels like stepping in dog shit. This sucks, and I have to clean up my shoes, but it happens from time to time.

  • So, Why’d You Do It?

    Some jerk smashed out the back window of my car last night. Now I have to deal with cops, insurance and window repair people.

    Though it’s not exactly the same, but Bruce knows what I’m going through.

    I’ll write more later…

  • I Try Not to Forget

  • ODDS and ENDS: MAGA Hat on the Subway, Baseball Season, Rich Kid Bully, and Easter for the Non-Christian

    (And they tore down the Polo Grounds…)

    I was coming home the other day on an uptown B. The car was maybe half full of people who, including myself, were all a little worn out and just wanted to be left alone. And then a group of people got on, clearly tourists, who looked like a family on vacation – mom, dad, teenage daughter, and a teenaged or young adult son. And this son had on a MAGA hat. I think I was the outlier, because I was the only person on the train that did a double take when I saw that hat. The rest of the people on the train didn’t react at all. Then I reminded myself that people are allowed the have their views, and I shouldn’t judge. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this guy might only have that hate on “ironically.” I can’t prove that, just a gut feeling. Either way, they weren’t on that train long; got off at the next stop. And as soon as the family was off the train, and the doors shut, the harsh looks and mumbling started – “What was up with that guy?” “He’s got some big balls to wear that here.” “Maybe he’s here for the trial?”

    Hey! Baseball season started! And the Cubs lost yesterday! Yee-Haw!

    Taking the kid to school, she pointed out to me a boy in her class that goes around and accuses other kids of being poor, and making fun of them. “He made fun of me,” she said, “He said we live in a dumpster.” I then I told her she should say, “Duh! It’s right next door to your parent’s dumpster. Everybody knows that!” That was probably the wrong thing to tell her.

    Easter is this weekend. We celebrate the holiday in the most non-Christian way possible by just eating candy, and deviled eggs and homemade mac n’ cheese. This year we are adding a ground lamb meatloaf. The wife and I were raided Catholic, and we have no intention of raising our daughter Catholic. Now, if she decides that she wants to be Catholic, then I will fully support her in that, but I won’t drop that religion on her. So, when it comes to Easter, we have avoided talking about all the Jesus stuff that’s involved with the holiday, but I know that will change soon. The kid is making more friends who wear their Christianity as a badge. She’s come home with questions, and I have answered them the best I could while trying to stay as neutral as possible. I don’t want my religion hang ups to become her hang ups.  

  • Personal Review: In a Taxi on the Upper East Side

    I found myself, on this very rainy Thursday, in the Upper East Side at 3rd Ave and 80th. I had taken my dog to the vet we liked; The one the wife had found during the Pandemic, who was far away from our neighborhood, but as we only made this trip once a year, the distance wasn’t disqualifying. An Uber had brought me down here, and as I contemplated in the rain how best to get home, an open taxi waiting at the light decided for me that surge pricing would be forgone on this return trip.

    I was asked by the driver if cutting across the park, and heading up Central Park West was okay, which I felt it was. Maybe the FDR would have been faster, but with the trifecta of Biden-Obama-Clinton in town, and with a rumor of Trump hanging around the city as well, my thought was that the highways were surely clogged as much as the streets on this day.

    And it was a slow trek across Manhattan, which provided the opportunity of watching the city go by in gray clouds and black umbrellas. I’m never in the UES, so cutting through those streets was like exploring a new world. I wonder what life would be like if I lived there; if that restaurant were around the corner, or that coffee place, or how loud does that bar get on a Saturday night? How would life be different down here as compared to up there?

    If you have lived in New York for twenty years, you are bound to have taken numerous, if not uncountable, taxi rides, which all, more or less, are utilitarian and forgettable. But I do remember my first; JFK to Manhattan in the Summer of 2003. The cab had no air conditioning, and the driver blared Prince out of the speakers. And then there was what I thought would be my last after a goodbye dinner with friends; West Village to Harlem care of the West Side Highway – Late at night, the city lit up and passing in a blur.

    In my current taxi, a silent trip. No forced conversation, or weird shortcuts that are only meant to ride up the meter. No, it was a calm affair with my dog on my lap. I wondered why I still stay in the City, I wondered if I will ever leave this City?

    It’s easier now because all taxi’s take cards, because before that, sometimes you’d accidently not have enough cash, and that always made for an awkward conversation with the driver. This diver gave me a nod with a “thanks” when I tipped 20% and got out of the cab quickly, not letting too much rain in.

    Four Stars…