It’s official: everything’s in Bushwick.
Trust me, I’m not happy about this. I get no delight from proclaiming this fact. But it is true.
There’s only one thing left for us Astorians to do: resign ourselves to making the G train gamble every time we want to attend something in that part of Brooklyn. The G train gamble, as anyone familiar with traveling between Queens and Brooklyn knows, happens the moment you arrive at Queensboro Plaza on the N train and have to decide between getting off to switch to the 7, which you’ll then take one stop to the G, at which point you’ll either hop on the train or wait 15 minutes before getting on it to then switch to the L before arriving at your destination, or taking the N all the way into Manhattan and back out to catch the L.
If this all sounds like mumbo-jumbo, good for you. You are a lucky New Yorker, or you don’t live in New York. Otherwise, you know exactly what I’m talking about, and you also know it’s never an easy decision to make.
Last night, on my way to guest bartend at a going-away party, I took the G train gamble and got to Bushwick in 50 minutes.
The only way to beat that without a car is to ride a bike, and I’m still too afraid to ride one in the streets. But I’m definitely thinking about getting one, considering–well, you know. You read the first sentence.