HOORAY! The north staircase to the southbound trains at the Astoria station is finally fixed! That was making me pretty nuts, gotta tell ya. Largely because I couldn't figure out why the heck it was closed in the first place. I'm sure they had their reasons - some kind of safety regulation, a foot tread not in place or something. But sheesh. The inconvenience of having to walk all the way around from the south staircase - I mean, what do these people expect of me?!
Anyway. It was an uneventful ride for a Monday morning. Nothing too crowded, which is always nice. Dealing with a mess on a Monday just puts a bad taste in your mouth. It probably helped that I was headed out a bit earlier than usual. First day in the new office digs, you know - must see what there is to be seen.
The evening, though, I was timed just wrong. The trains seem to travel in little packs: an R and then two yellows, pick your designation; then a good five-to-eight minutes of nothing at all. Frankly I think the two yellows get stuck behind the Rs - the trains are older, and because they cover such a huge swath of Queens they have a large and diverse ridership. Also, because they come first, they pick up all of the Manhattan hop-on-hop-offs, including the tourists - and we love y'all and everything but you take FOREVER to figure out where you're going, saying things like, Wait, are we getting off at 42nd Street or Times Square?! Adorable, the lot of you. Ahem. Tonight, as has happened so many times, I got down to the 59th Street platform in time to wait several minutes with a large pack of tired and impatient riders, only to see that good old R pull on up. At least this does tend to have the effect of clearing the station out a good bit.
If I was smarter, or had more faith that there really was "another train directly behind this one", or any more patient than everyone else, I would have just let the first yellow train pass. I am not and don't have any of those things. So I got on the semi-full Q train that pulled up next and figured I'd suffer through it, get the hell home. See, I think at this point that I really may have a bulging disc in my lower back. I need to go for an MRI - yeah, sure, I'll squeeze that in just as soon as I stop having appointments for the effing kidney stones. Anyway, my pain must have been etched on my face, because a nice man offered me his seat. I kind of love him. Good thing he did, because if he hadn't I probably would have had to stand the whole way home.
One down. Four to go. Somebody give me a watermelon mojito.