By

Andrew DeMarco

My last posting and my ride home on Metro-North reminded me of my time as a commuter so here is my tale. A little over 30 years ago myself and a group of friends were daily commuters into New York and in the evenings we would all catch the 5:20 train home. What made the 5:20 unique was that it had a bar car and that seemed to suit all of us just fine. Unfortunately, the 5:20 has been relegated to the dust bin of history mainly because of health concerns but mostly because of political correctness. You see the 5:20 was the most smoke and alcohol filled place to be, a rolling den of iniquity, the perfect place after a hard day’s work. It was also one of the most entertaining and fun filled 25 to 30 minutes that one can experience so much so that there were many times that the 5:20 gang would hope for a delay, so we could hang out longer.

When a friend and I were reminiscing about our commute we realized that 3 key gentlemen were no longer with us, so this is my way of remembering them.

First there was Kevin Glynn who passed away a few months ago I’ll call him the greeter/joker. Kevin worked right across from Grand Central and was usually the first to arrive. As you walked down the platform Kevin would be there with a drink in one hand (the first of a few on our 30-minute ride) and a cigarette in the other. That’s right smoking was permitted on trains back then and almost everyone smoked.  Kevin would welcome us all aboard and then he would start with his jokes. It seems that every day Kevin had a new one and he made sure that everyone heard them. By the time we got to 125^th Street 10 minutes later, everyone would have heard the joke of the day and it was time for Kevin to have another drink.

Second was Ray Hyland who passed away in October of last year. Ray stood above all those who rode the 5:20 and rightly so since he played basketball at Iona. Ray was a die-hard Yankee fan and loved to discuss or should I say argue about his favorite team. He also had a way of getting everyone involved and because of this I will call Ray the instigator. He had a knack for picking out his marks particularly Met fans and getting them started. He would get them into a frenzy and the arguments would begin and then he would just step back and watch the chaos he created. After the chaos subsided and there were no real winners or losers everyone would go the bar and have another drink and there would be Ray with the biggest cat ate the canary grin, satisfied that he had done his job.

Third was Mark Gaston who passed away a few years ago. I still haven’t figured out a name for Mark but he by far was the most unique, dedicated and determined of the 5:20 gang. This is all due to the fact that Mark technically should not have taken the 5:20 train. Mark lived in White Plains and should have been taking the Harlem line of Metro-North but it doesn’t end there. Mark would drive to the Mamaroneck Station every morning and hop on the New Haven Line which is the line that the 5:20 runs on. In the evening he would meet us on the 5:20 and take it to New Rochelle which was the final stop. Now here is the best part. He would get off in New Rochelle and wait for the next train to Mamaroneck which was 2 stops past New Rochelle. All this not to miss the fun and entertainment of the 5:20.

So, when I think of the good times that were had on the 5:20 and I remember these 3 gentlemen, it gives me a good feeling one that Cousin Bob would call that Rosy Glow.

 

 

By

Andrew DeMarco

 

I recently had to meet my wife in Manhattan regarding some personal business so I took Metro North to Grand Central and since it was a beautiful day I decided to walk up Madison Ave. to 74^th Street. While the train was pulling into Grand Central I was preparing myself to dodge, taxis, buses, pedicabs and many disgruntled motorists. Once I started my trek I realized that wasn’t the case. I didn’t have to worry about any of this but what I did find however was that I was dodging Zombies. That’s right you heard me correctly Zombies! They are all over New York, every avenue, every street and on every corner all totally mindless. These zombies also come from all walks of life as they are dressed as business men and women, blue collar workers, tourists, you name it. They are easily recognizable in that they have wires and other contraptions oozing from their ears or covering their heads. They also have what I call a mobile zombie device in one of their hands. (In a nod to technology I will use an acronym which techies love and call it a MZD)

I tried to avoid them at all cost because I was afraid if I should come into contact with one I would turn into one of them. Then it happened. At 51^st, St, and Madison Ave. a young female zombie just stopped short while using her MZD and I accidentally bumped into her. I apologized and then she hissed at me. I was about to apologize again but she just continued to hiss, so I thought I better get out of here before she accused me of groping her and report me to the #Me Too movement. One good thing I realized was I had not begun to change into one of them.

At the corner of 57^th St. while waiting for the light a woman tending to an elderly gentleman in a wheel chair was tapping away at her MZD. I thought a health care provider zombie, which proved my point that they come from all walks of life. I feared that the elderly gentleman might roll into traffic and in front of a crosstown bus but fortunately that did not happen.

A few blocks further north a gentleman in a suit and tie with a brief case in one hand and a MZD in the other turned the corner and crashed into me. He was a big man and judging by his snarl and grunting I thought that I might be devoured right then and there. After getting another snarl and some choice words thrown at me he moved on and to my relief I still had not turned into the walking dead.

I finally made it and met my wife and we conducted the business which I came down to do. We then both decided to take our chances and walk back to Grand Central, but instead of Madison Ave. we thought we would walk down 5^th Ave. While crossing 5^th Ave. to the park side we almost got struck down by a Citi Bike Zombie. A man riding a Citi Bike and texting ran the light and just missed the both of us. Where is that crosstown bus when you really need it.  But it still wasn’t over. While walking along the park a mommy zombie wheeling two children in a double stroller ran into my wife, while you guessed it using a MZD. I felt sorry for those two children who will be subjected to a life of nurturing by Zombie iPads, tablets, and X boxes.

Then my wife and I saw it. Right there on 5^th Ave. a glass temple, hive or whatever these Zombies call it stood in front of us. My wife and I peaked in and it was swarming with Zombies all moving about with mindless grins and looks of ecstasy on their faces as though they were in some Garden of Eden but alas it wasn’t. It was an Apple Store!

Fearing for our lives and also being hungry my wife and I decided to get something to eat. I thought this was a good idea and a way to escape the Zombies since everything I read about them told me that they only ate human flesh. I was surprised when we were seated next to 4 or them, two who were again tapping away and the other two had their MZDs at the ready on the table probably awaiting a call from the collective. Regarding the eating human flesh thing, well it is a myth since the four of them were chowing down on burgers and chef salads.

It was time to get out of Zombieville and we carefully made our way back to Grand Central avoiding contact with the walking dead. We boarded the train and felt some relief and made our way through the train to find a seat. Then the relief quickly faded as we realized the Zombies where headed for the suburbs. While walking through the train everyone had their heads down and were engrossed by their MZDs. Some were playing games, watching movies, texting but there was no human contact. We found seats and the two of us sat huddled together hoping that we would make it home. I was looking out the window and then it happened. I turned back and there was my wife tapping away and I thought “My God I’ve lost her.” But then she looked at me and said it was a friend and that she told him she would call him later. Realizing that my wife was not among the living dead gave me that feeling that Cousin Bob would call that Rosy Glow.  Then again, she said him would I have to worry if it was a boyfriend she was tapping away to, who cares, I survived the Zombie Apocalypse.