The Adventures of
David
Elizabeth
and Leif

Elizabeth and I just got back from Elizabeth, NJ. While there, we ordered the cabinets for our kitchen and bathroom in our new apartment. It was a bunch of $$, although just a small portion of the renovation total renovation budget.

We returned home over the Verazzano Narrows Bridge. On the last third of the crossing of the mouth of New York Harbor, the left lane becomes exit-only. There are many many warnings about this. Unfortunately, there was a car in the left lane that didn’t want to exit. This car was about 100 yards in front of us. At the last possible second, I saw this car dart rapidly out of the left lane. I was a mite irritated at the irratic and dangerous driving. There was a big white pickup truck in front of us and I didn’t see the crazy car, so I assumed it was just another crazy on the roads until Elizabeth gasped. The I looked on the right side of the pickup truck as the car jumped the curb and smashed into the guardrail on the side of the bridge, spun around and slid backwards down the highway.

Everyone hit the brakes and came to a stop. The driver of the car got out and was screaming. She was a young girl in her 20’s. The passenger door opens and the passenger falls out on the ground and doesn’t move very much. Then the driver ran around and grabbed her shirt and started dragging her across the road into the path of the exit-only lane she’d been in before the madness started. I got out of the car and ran up as did a bunch of other bystanders. We tried to get her to calm down. The girl on the ground was crying out that she couldn’t stand up. The car was still running and beginning to smoke. Another bystander mentioned that we should probably turn off the car, so I went in and turned off the ignition. It was difficult to open the door since it had been bent so badly.

When I got out, both girls were standing and other witnesses were helping them. I called 9-1-1. When I got done, the situation looked as under control as it was going to get before the police and ambulances arrived. I had a very pregnant wife in the car, so I decided that the best thing would be to take my wife and go home. As we drove slowly past the wreck, the two girls were standing, sobbing and hugging each other.

The split second of panic when the driver realized she was going to get off at the wrong exit almost turned to tragedy. Fortunately, they didn’t hit another car. Fortunately they were going slow enough that they didn’t go of the bridge (which at this point is about 100 feet above the water). Fortunately, it didn’t look like either of them were seriously hurt. I am thankful that our car was unscathed and Elizabeth was fine.

On Tuesday, the first day of the NYC transit workers’ subway and bus strike, I decided to ride my bike to do some Christmas shopping since the train wasn’t running. While riding down my street, a car parallel-parked on the right pulled out really fast and cut across the lane which I lawfully occupied. I was going about 15-20 mph. I hit the brakes and yelled and the car hit me with her left front bumper on the right side of my bike. I went over the handlebars and her hood and rolled on the street. I was surprised how smooth Fulton Street felt on my cheek after I stopped moving. But it took a minute to get my left arm and leg to start obeying me. They really hurt.

The girl driving the car was cool and called 911 while I was in the street. By the time I was able to pick myself up off the street, two cops had arrived and an ambulance pulled up pretty fast after that. The paramedics felt my painfully purple knee and my elbow and said nothing was broken. I elected not to go to the hospital and limped the 2 blocks to my apartment.

During the next 24 hours, my left knee gradually got more mobile and less sore. Unfortunately, my left elbow got worse and worse. On Wednesday AM, I didn’t have enough grip strength to squeeze toothpaste onto my toothbrush so I went to the hospital, accompanied by the soon-to-be Rev. Chris Hildebrand, soon-to-be assistant pastor of the church we attend: Resurrection Presbyterian Church in Williamsburg. Chris hung out with me and got me lunch during the 5+ hours we spent in the ER. That was a total gift — thanks Chris!

Finally, I got to go in to see the doctors. Because of the transit strike, they were extremely short-staffed. After reading my x-rays the doc said my left elbow was fractured. She put my arm in a splint, gave me a prescription for some pain-killers, and told me I’d be in the splint for 6-8 weeks. Unfortunately, I can’t fly like this.

Tomorrow, I’m going to see an orthopedic specialist and start the process of trying to get the insurance of the girl who hit me to pay for medical bills, a new bike, and lost wages. Sounds fun. I’m sure the insurance company is just chomping at the bit to cut me a check.

Bt the way, if there are a more typos than usual, cut me some slack. Between one-handed-typing and some nice pain pills, I’m a little impaired. More than usual.

I’ve been asked about the difference between a den and a common room. I used them interchangeably in the previous blog entry, and Pop asked what the difference is. Here are some answers from wikipedia:

A den can be a family room or a room devoted to a parent’s hobbies.

A common room is a type of shared lounge, most often found in dormitories, at (for example) universities, military bases, hospitals, rest homes, hostels, and even minimum-security prisons. It is generally connected to several private rooms, and may incorporate a bathroom.

Common rooms are generally much more spacious than the adjoining private rooms, and generally contain couches, televisions, coffee tables, and other generic lounge furniture.

Depending on its location and purpose of use, a common room may be known by another name. For instance, in mental hospitals, where access is usually restricted to the daytime hours, this type of room is often called a “day room”.

Hmmmm… perhaps we’ll call our den the day room. At least when certain family members visit…

This weekend, between rehersals for her show on 10/1, my amazing bride and her wonderful mother found us a great apartment in New York City. It is a newly renovated railroad apartment with lots of light and space (for NYC), in a Brooklyn Neighborhood called Bedford-Stuyvesant (pronounced STY-vuh-sent), on Fulton Street, 2 blocks from the Nostrand Avenue A-train and Long Island Railroad stops. We’re almost right across the street from Restoration Plaza. (I’m procrastinating from studying about the Airbus A320 by finding these links) Here are some photos:

Looking into the main living room from the building hallway. You had to climb 2 flights of stairs to get here.

The main front room (den?) has lots of great light with its south-facing windows. That’s Valerie, the broker who helped us find this place in the photo. There is stuff on the erstwhile mantle because the landlord is still finishing up the renovation.

Here’s Ellie standing in the den looking toward the windows with the door from the building hallway to the left. To the right (Ellie’s left) is the door to the allegedly master bedroom.

A railroad apartment is one where there is no hallway. To get from the front, allegedly master bedroom, to the bathroom or kitchen, you have to walk through the back bedroom. Fortunately for us, there are two hallway entrances to our apartment, so if the second bedroom is occupied, we can put on slippers and walk through the building hallway to get to the back entrance of our unit. Behind Ellie, you can see the doorways from the front to the back bedrooms and from the back bedroom to the den.

Here’s our walk-in closet in the allegedly MBR. There’s also a nook to the right where we’ll probably put some furniture or build some shelves.

This is looking back toward the den from the allegedly MBR. I think the bed will probably fit here.

Standing in the closet, you get a vista of the expansive allegedly MBR. On the left edge of the photo you can see a window. This goes to an alleged courtyard. I think all bedrooms, by law, have to have a window. This meets the letter of the law.

Sticking the camera out of the window to the alleged courtyard and looking up. I’m really suprised that my wife picked a place with a glass ceiling.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get any pics of the second bedroom, but it is basically the same size as the alleged MBR, minus the nook. Here Ellie is explaining where the furniture will go in the TV room, aka the back (aft for those of the [aero]nautical pursuasion) common room.

The view out the back (aft) common room window — a tree to keep the black lung at bay by providing us and the other one thousand residents of our block with oxygen … at least during the growing season!

A blurry view from the window of the back (aft) common room. Wow, a closet! To the left, the back (aft) entrance to our apartment. To the right, the arched entrance to the hallway leading further back (aft) to the bathroom and kitchen.

The bathroom is functional.

The kitchen has about 7.62 square feet of counter space. I think that will be enough for any dish-drainer we might acquire.

The view out of the kitchen onto our fire escape.

Perhaps that fire escape will be the scotch and cigars haven…

Mmmmm … scotch ….