strike!

The mass transit workers of New York have walked off the job for the first time since dinosaurs roamed the earth. Well, actually it was 1980; close enough. I can't help wondering why, after all those years I did not live in New York, I had to come back just in time for a transit strike.

But it's not all about me. What about the other 8 million people trying to get to work? What about the transit workers and their demands? I have to confess, I am rather exasperated with both sides. I would like to go (but how would I get there??) to the Grand Hyatt in Midtown, where the Transit Workers Union and the Metropolitan Transportation Authority are negotiating (or were -- are they even talking to each other now?) and knock some heads together. The MTA, faced with an unexpected, one-time, $1 billion surplus, should not have used that money to give fare discounts to riders. They should have divided it up among the 33,700 transit workers. At $29,000 each, that would have been a very handsome Christmas present and would have put everyone in a much better humor. Even if the workers had to share it with their comrades working on MetroNorth and the Long Island Railroad (also part of the MTA but not on strike, thank god) it still would have been a pretty nice bonus.

The transit workers should wake up and realize that no one in this day and age should expect to retire at age 55 and contribute little or nothing to their own pension and health care costs. Sorry! I know it's not easy to be a transit worker, but we are talking about economic and demographic forces larger than any of us.

But what is it like, my readers out in the heartland (all two of them) might be wondering? What is it like in New York with the trains not running? I can't tell you very much right now because it is my day off and I am at home in Cobble Hill. There is a strange, drowsy stillness in the streets for the most part; there are clearly not as many people around as usual. But on Smith Street, the nearest street to me that leads to the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridge entrances, it was gridlock at 11 a.m. as far as the eye could see. A weird contrast with the serenity elsewhere. Nothing else seems unusual: the shops are open, people are walking their dogs, talking on cell phones, buying Christmas trees. It is cold but sunny, a beautiful winter day -- a fine day to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge at dawn, which lots of people apparently were doing, to judge from the pictures at nytimes.com. Tomorrow, that is where I will be, too.