Shabbat

It happens four times a week in New York.  Right smack in the most productive part of the day, by law New Yorkers must rest.  Some sit idly, some read.  Now with laptops and a little stolen wifi, we can surf.  Like little islands of calm in the work around us, we pause, until we return, refreshed, with a new perspective to our busy lives.

I’m referring of course to alternate side of the street parking. I had my first experience with it last week, coming to the lovely little space I had found for myself first thing in the morning to dutifully clear out for the street sweeper. I was pulling out the car at 8:58 AM, when I noticed something funny.  No one else on the block was moving their cars.  Hardly anyone was even in their cars.  What do they know that I don’t?

My plan was to feed the meter for an hour or so, maybe going to a café for breakfast.  As a back up, I brought some work with me and a pear.  So I started circling the ‘hood.  There were no meters.  It seemed that most everyone had already moved their car, or planted themselves close by and double parked.  I kept circling, my stomach growling.  Eventually I came to another spot where the sweeper had just left, and I sat and waited quietly, the world whizzing by just to my back, until I was ready to join it.

I can see how this can get old, and I can only imagine what the winter will be like…  Today, for example, I went to a main street with a meter and I am now sitting happily in a café.  But the meter machine refused my 2 credit cards, forcing me to use my precious quarters, which are urgently needed for washing today.  And – only in New York – my breakfast of a flat bagel and a juice cost $9.  Come to think of it, why do flat bagels cost more than regular?  They are just smushed regular bagels – do they really need my extra 40 cents for the trouble?

So this Shabbat might not be a luxury I can afford too often.  Still, after a week of being sick, it’s just a treat to leave the house. 

Postscript: As I was writing that really deep observation about flat bagels, I was getting a $65 ticket.  I did feed my meter, but I carelessly stuck the ticket face-side down on the dashboard.  Really?  Forget Shabbat.  The hunt for parking, the observance of byzantine parking rules is no moment of zen.  This is why they call it a jungle, this is why this is a tough town.  Will I never know peace unless I pay for a garage?