I have moved myself to New York City. Life is different than it was in East Hampton. I’m adjusting. Today I rode on the senior bus to go to the supermarket. I needed food and the senior bus was on the street, idling in front of a line of people. In New York City, everything that has a “senior” designation in front of it is FREE. Senior bus, senior lunch, senior tai chi, senior mammogram, senior yoga, senior Tik Tok help. Free, free, free, free, free, free. Maybe that's why we have a 100 trillion dollar debt.
Everyone waiting in the bus line had a rolling cart. I had a small nylon backpack that you could stick in your pocket. “Oh honey”, said the lady in front of me. “You need to bring a cart.”
As in all bus etiquette (it was true of my old bus in East Hampton), any rider can weigh in on your poor choices. Why aren’t you wearing a coat? You better sit down. Your pocketbook is open. When we began to board a man counted us. I was vente uno. In New York City, people often speak in Spanish. For English, press two.
The senior bus goes to the supermarket on Tuesday and Wednesday. I went on Wednesday and it’s a good thing because on Wednesday it is senior day at the supermarket and you get a % off your bill. If you finish shopping and don’t want to wait for the bus, there’s a car to drive you home and guess what? It’s free.
I chose the private car option. Vente uno was going to be missing in the bus count. I could see my big startled senior face on the back of an oat milk carton. Have you seen vente uno?
If you want to know why I’m living in New York City and how I got here, stay tuned.