I had good luck with public transit today. I mean seriously amazing good luck.
This morning, on my way to work, the bus pulled up to the bus stop just as I rounded the corner. And there was not a shrieking child or a greasy odor emanating from a fast food bag or even a confused tourist asking interminable questions about where to transfer or how to get to the Met or why did this limited bus just pass his stop?
Then, after work, I managed to get from 117th & Amsterdam Avenue to Houston & 1st Avenue in thirty-five minutes. Thirty-five minutes! First the 1 pulled in as I got to the platform, and then the A pulled in at 59th Street just as I was walking down the stairs, and then, after a slightly precarious dash down to the lower platform at West 4th, the F arrived as if by magic.
And then, after an (as always) delicious bowl of ramen at Ippudo and a lovely walk back across town in this spring-like February weather, the uptown A pulled in just as I walked down the stairs and barely left time for hugging my dinner companion good bye. And I made it home in, yes, just under thirty-five minutes.
There are many days of not loathing the MTA, and even some days of honest affection, but it's the rare day that a person gets home grinning over the whole thing.