It was a rough start to my day. Anyone have days like this? Where your expectations of the day are too big and so you collapse under your own weight that you have placed on yourself and stay in bed because it’s too hard. It really started the night before. I went through all of the things I felt I needed to work on and all of the things I wanted to do. And I realized I didn’t have time to do them all. So instead of going to bed I just stayed up late agonizing over all of this. Other people too? Just me? I dragged myself out of bed only because I had signed up for a ballet workout class and I needed to get a move on. I decided to ride my bike down to the upper west side. The ride is smooth and nice. I typically ride on Riverside drive- it is the road furthest west, basically surrounding the west side of the island. There isn’t much traffic there. There are stoplights but the crossroads only connect from one side because the other side is Riverside Park. So it’s very easy to ride all the way down without stopping very much. Except apparently that is illegal. I was in my own dream of non-specific worry and sadness about who knows what (I’m a four on the enneagram. Typical. 🙄) when I was pulled over. By the police. The coppers. Out to get me with their sirens and lights. On my bike. I pulled over and they got out of the car. “Nice bike.” The male officer said as he got out of the car… his tone was accusing and judgmental… not sure why. “Thanks, ha” I replied nervously, “…It’s a mountain bike…”. “Yeah but its a really nice bike.” He retorted as if I was riding the bike like some entitled princess- reigning higher than all other bikes. They asked for my ID. I gave them my passport…. I misplaced my drivers license a while back and refused to get a new one until I could go back to Colorado and rep my mountain state proudly on my ID.
“Is there a reason you ran three red lights?” The officer asked condescendingly.
“I uhhhh, I just thought there was a gray area… for bikers”
“No. You have to stop at the red light. You can’t run it.”
“I didn’t realize that… I thought It was okay.”
“We have had a lot of accidents, cars hitting bikers and bikers hitting pedestrians.” A Woman on a Citibike (A bike you can rent an hour at a time) stopped near us. “Hey is everything okay?” She called. “I was right behind her, did something happen?”
The police officer addressed her, “Yes she didn’t stop at a red light.”
“Oh I never stop at red lights!” She replied with a laugh and surprise.
“Well you’re supposed to.” The office replied unamused.
“Okay I guess you’re right. You’re okay?” She looked at me.
“Yes thank you.” I replied teary eyed. And she went on her way.
I waited a few more eternities for them to do whatever they do. As I could feel more tears welling up. “Do you think I’m some rich girl? This bike didn’t cost a lot of money you know!” I blurted out to the cop as my tears grew. Not my proudest moment. As I get older I do not get less emotional. But I do have less inhibitions.
“Why would you say that?”
“I just don’t know why the first thing you said to me was about house nice my bike is.”
“It’s a nice bike, you don’t think it’s a nice bike?” the officer seemed defensive and leaned into his power. “I think it’s a nice bike,” he repeated. He got back into the car. I watched a guy on a bike that had a little motor clearly zoom through the next stoplight.
“Look! He ran a light!!” I said to them. The police officer rolled down his window. Him and his female partner called back at me quickly “No he didn’t look he stopped! He stopped!” I took a step forward and could see the biker had indeed stopped around the bend. Well. I feel even better now. He for sure knew I was getting pulled over for not stopping at a red light. I’ve never seen a biker stop at a red light on a completely empty street. Another girl about my age rode by on her bike and starred at me as she passed by. I almost called to her that she better stop at the red light. But I wanted to watch her run it. I know. I’m a saint. Well she did ride through the light like any normal biker on that road. Because there is no traffic. I made sure to point out to the police after another eternity of them writing things in their car that another biker had run a red light. I don’t know why I thought this would help.
“We know, we can’t stop them all when we are stopped with you. We are going back now to look for more bikers,” The lady cop told me. Oh are you? Well thank you officers for keeping our streets safe. Really. This is New York City. Isn’t there some better use of your time than stopping bikers on Riverside Drive? I was furious. I don’t know what accidents might have happened or what they were responding to. But in my little universe this was absurd. They handed me the ticket. They could not tell me how much the ticket was for because I have to go online to see- it depends on my bike record. MY BIKE RECORD. I do not have a bike record. Because that is absurd. But- now I do.
“You know I’m new to this city and I just follow the other bikers and no one stops!” I called to them. Again. So proud of myself.
“You have to stop at the red light.” The lady cop said to me. Twice. As they got into their car.
I rode off and was fuming mad. I was no longer in a dream of melancholy. A new, clear emotion had taken it’s place- fury. A few stoplights ahead a group of pre-schoolers were crossing the street. They were the cutest thing ever. They all had little yellow vests on and were walking in a straight line, holding onto a string. So they looked like little ducklings. Well the coppers stopped me from tearing through this red light. -Except I definitely would have stopped for them. And all pedestrians. But perhaps my presence on the side of the road made other passing bikes more aware. I don’t know I’m still mad.
On another note, a couple hours later…..
I love Trader Joe’s. It has honestly saved me living in the city. Everything is so expensive. But not here. Today they had their fall stuff released so it was a pretty great day. I noticed a lovely elderly lady trying to reach a jar on the bottom shelf. I asked her if she needed help. (Didn’t I tell you I was a saint?). She said “Yes.” I asked her what she needed from the shelf. She said “I don’t know.” I laughed at this. She explained she just wanted to try something new, and one of the flavors on the shelf she had been eating for a while. They were jars I had never noticed before, beneath the marinara sauce. They were pepper-flavored sauces that were more like dips. I’m not quite sure what they were. Very brightly colored with cane sugar added. She had a thick New York accent.
“I love these things. So tasty.”
“What do you eat this with, bread?”
“Ohh yes honey! Listen this is a meal! I’m telling you! Keep this at home with some cream cheese and some bread and it’s a meal! I’m telling you!” I obviously had to buy one. I put one of the brightly colored sugary pasty pepper sauces in my cart. I believe her name was Marta. She spoke to me very quickly but quietly so I didn’t catch every word. But she certainly had a lot to say.
“My daughter has a car and a driver but she doesn’t use it every day so I told her ‘let me take it on Wednesdays.’ She wont shop here though. I love it here! The people are nice and they take things up to my car for me. And I can take things back. Never buy strawberries here though you will just throw them out! I throw more things out than I take back. But listen! When I was a girl we were taught never to waste. But things were different then! There was a war and people lost money. I’m 96 you know.” I definitely had strawberries in my cart. She was 96?! This woman was kickin. I looked into her eyes. They were beautiful.
“Oh you are a sweetie aren’t you?!” She stared back at me. She was amazing. I hope I run into her again next Wednesday. If I hadn’t gotten the bike ticket I wouldn’t have missed my workout class and wouldn’t have met Marta. Still mad of course. Just a little softer.
I went to check out and the cashier began strategically ringing things up to help me pack my backpack. -I have never had a bad cashier at Trader Joe’s. They are always awesome and real people that find some way to connect. He noticed my bike helmet and asked about where I was riding to. “Oh! Do you ever ride on Riverside Drive?” He asked me. Yes. Yes in fact I do. I told him all about the ticket and he was outraged on my behalf. He stopped ringing me up and just looked at me. “I’m sorry.” He said. I think 95% of fellow New Yorkers would be outraged on my behalf. It felt good to have some support. He started trying to think of ways I could get out of it. He told me not to pay it. To make it verrrry difficult. Or to show up to court and the police officer probably wouldn’t. Not sure if all of his advice was sound but he definitely lifted my spirits.
The next day I looked at the paperwork they gave me. They gave me three tickets. THREE TICKETS. For three red lights. 101st street, 100th street, and 99th street. I thought they had just given me three copies…for some reason. No they were three separate tickets. They were not showing up online yet so I have no clue how much they are for. But the back of the ticket says it’s $190 for a bicycle running a red light in NYC. That means I owe $570. And lets face it even paying my rent up here is very hard. My fury returned.
I hopped on the subway on my way to dance class. Anger at the unjust way I felt I was treated boiling through my body. I looked around at the other people on the train. I began to feel angry at New York. Aaaaannnnd- hang on a minute. -This isn’t New York’s fault. This isn’t even the NYPD’s fault. It is little moments like this though where it is so easy so blame the city. To let this one experience swim into my subconscious feelings about my experience here and Harden some small part of my heart. I thought about my friends I was about to see in tap class. I cannot bring this in with me. I cannot throw all of this anger and negativity into that air. Plus my tap teacher once said “There is nothing depressing about tap dancing.” So. I should probably try to drop this shit. I turned on my mediation app and started to breath. I actually have felt this specific way many times. In many places. This is a feeling I am experiencing that I can process- but that is not at the fault of my environment or community. Breath. And let it go. And if anyone has advice on how to not have to pay so much of these tickets… let me know. 😘. Wishing you all peace as you breath through the hard things in your day. Thank you for reading.
Aaaaand I got to see two amazing humans get married this weekend. They are truly inspiring. And they inspired us to do this….
And this…
And somehow I have no photos of the Bride and Groom. But they are HAWT. Life is good.