6/26/17 Toll booths
High 70s and mostly sunny.
There are mundane things that you see every day that you take for granted and then they disappear and even though their disappearance might actually make your life easier you still feel vaguely bereft because of their absence. In this case the inspiration for that though are the toll booths of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel (or I guess the Hugh L. Carey Tunnel for those of you who live in modern times, God help you). I was aware that the tunnel was moving toward cashless tolling but the booths seemed to disappear without warning. One day I was on the bus and we went through the tall green (were they green, a dark green or am I mis-remembering?) booths with the yellow automatic arm and their "do not back up" signs and the next day on the way home we emerged from the tunnel and weaved around piles of rubble that were the only reminders that the booths had ever existed.
Man, it felt weird.
My entire morning commute is thrown off now. Sure, we get through the tunnel more quickly (most days) but the steady roll downhill followed by the sudden brake and swerve was what told my dozing body that we were about halfway through my morning nap. I haven't missed my stop yet in the absence of that final reminder but I have startled myself by waking up closer to the office than I had figured because I no longer have that motion-driven time check.
I never knew anyone who was a toll collector. In 50 years depictions of urban life in my lifetime in works of fiction will probably be inaccurate because none of the characters will experience interacting with a toll collector. Makes me wonder what modern writers get wrong in their historical fiction. What everyday thing is consistently missed? Is it something that might have changed a character's outlook or reactions? Does it matter?
There are mundane things that you see every day that you take for granted and then they disappear and even though their disappearance might actually make your life easier you still feel vaguely bereft because of their absence. In this case the inspiration for that though are the toll booths of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel (or I guess the Hugh L. Carey Tunnel for those of you who live in modern times, God help you). I was aware that the tunnel was moving toward cashless tolling but the booths seemed to disappear without warning. One day I was on the bus and we went through the tall green (were they green, a dark green or am I mis-remembering?) booths with the yellow automatic arm and their "do not back up" signs and the next day on the way home we emerged from the tunnel and weaved around piles of rubble that were the only reminders that the booths had ever existed.
Man, it felt weird.
My entire morning commute is thrown off now. Sure, we get through the tunnel more quickly (most days) but the steady roll downhill followed by the sudden brake and swerve was what told my dozing body that we were about halfway through my morning nap. I haven't missed my stop yet in the absence of that final reminder but I have startled myself by waking up closer to the office than I had figured because I no longer have that motion-driven time check.
I never knew anyone who was a toll collector. In 50 years depictions of urban life in my lifetime in works of fiction will probably be inaccurate because none of the characters will experience interacting with a toll collector. Makes me wonder what modern writers get wrong in their historical fiction. What everyday thing is consistently missed? Is it something that might have changed a character's outlook or reactions? Does it matter?
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