Just Because it is Hard

I do certain exertional physical challenges just because they are hard. It amuses me to know that so few others would be doing what I am doing. Examples of this were my two journeys this past week to the Asphalt Green pool at 5am by way of my MTB. For some reason, I get off being the only cyclist, or pedestrian for that matter, traveling over one of NYC’s major bridge crossing.

The Manhattan Bridge at this time and conditions gives off the aura of a menacing post apocalyptic landscape. Dozens of sodium arc lamps cut through the darkness of night and form a forbidding line down a desolate path. The only companions you have at this time are the howling wind, sub freezing temperatures and the occasional thunder of a passing subway train. From this vantage point I can see hundreds of buildings with many thousands of occupants still sleeping in their safe, warm beds.

When I did this trip on Tuesday, it was my first since the recent transit strike. I was taking a chance that I would be allowed to bring my bike into the office, since I didn’t verify that the building where I worked would allow it in. For some reason, I suspected it could be a problem, which is why I didn’t ask for permission in the first place. It is better to ask for forgiveness afterwards than to do be told no outright.

The security guard of the building didn’t even hesitate a second after seeing me before he told me to get out of the building. I explained to him that I am a senior officer of one of the buildings major tenants. This was a stubborn fellow and he reacted to this information with as much concern as he would show a homeless person who wandered into the building. I asked him to speak to the building manager and his reply was that “He was too busy for me”. I told him I needed to bring it upstairs as I didn’t have a lock and had no choice. He said “Too bad, take it back home”. You would have though I wanted to bring in a dirty bomb the way I was being treated.

In any event, I am not one to back down from a challenge and I told them they had three choices, let me go up, call the building manager or call the police because one way or the other I am going upstairs. A second security guard finally called the BM, who allowed me up after I explained to him I didn’t know the restriction, I had no lock and if he would let me pass, I wouldn’t do it again.

I figured I would call the BM after I changed into my suit and settled in. However, the BM decided to pay a visit to my office and chastise me for giving the security guards a difficult time. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. The BM turned out to be a real BM, so I abandoned any hope of bringing my bike inside in the future. For revenge, perhaps I will visit various floors and stuff the toilets with great wads of paper towels.