A Brooklyn Ferry Tale

Every once in a while you have one of those moments. A moment that even when fully immersed you know it's something.

Something amazing.

Something beyond cool.

Something so New York.

This was not one of those moments.

Sure, as I stood on the dock with the Statue of Liberty in the distance, the wind whipping my hair into my face, I imagined myself swiping it away with the graceful ease of a model. Ms. J would be so proud. And Tyra, too. Maybe even Tim Gunn for good measure. He deals with models. Sort of. I mean, he tells the designers to "make it work" so the models aren't naked when they walk down the runway. That totally counts. Right?

But when my arm flew into sky I misjudged the distance between my forehead and nose and poked myself in the eye.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I heard my bag crash to the concrete as I squealed in pain. Awww, the crunch of a home improvement purchase gone wrong.

Why oh why did I go to the Brooklyn Ikea? Again?!

To save a buck or two? Well I hate to break it to you, but the free NJ Transit bus to Elizabeth will get you cheaper state tax rates and more overheard storage. No freakin' ferry can beat that.

But the boat does have music playing. So when you cruise past Governor's Island and the BQE you can rock out to Rihanna. Just don't scream SOS too loud. After all, you are on a boat.

So I grab my mangled 20x30 frame from the ground, scared to examine it. As I peruse the slightly scuffed wood I breathe a sigh of relief. No crack in the glass. Riiiight. No crack in the PLEXIglass. That's what you get for being a total cheapskate.

One ferry ride, one subway ride, one walk, and four flights of steps later I deposit the frame into a corner of my apartment. Where I'm sure it's doomed to sit for a couple weeks. You can't put just anything in plexiglass...