Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

The Annville Memorial Day parade featured a horse-drawn carriage hauling a coffin. My hometown can always be counted on to muster up some morbid exuberance in the name of America. The Little Dutchmen Rock Memorial Day Parade The day kicked off in true Pennsylvania style. A flock of leathered up vetrans straddling  spit-shined Harleys  thundered down Main Street. Then came about a dozen floats bedecked with plastic garden of eden interpretations. Intrepid children perched on folding chairs while the wind smacked them in the face with artificial palm fronds. They held signs selling competing Summer Bible Camps. One of the more promotionally minded outfits had a rear guard handing out lollipops wrapped up in new testament advertisements. If child molesters are good for nothing else, obviously their victim recruitment strategies are worthy of emulation. We got to see cocker spaniels up for adoption in a pick up truck, followed by a raucous mob of 4Hers whooping it up with a tracto

I would never pan out as  Miss Subways . First, when it comes to locating MTA stations in Brooklyn, I can most often be found circling the block like a mad cow. Second, the contest ended in 1976. Third, and most gravely of all, I'm no ingenue with big dreams and coifage of any kind. But if Miss New Jersey Transit were a contest of only strength and skill, I might have a slightly warm snowball's chance at a title. I can do a lot of pushups. I can also pull off the following: I know, and do not hesitate to take, the shortcut through the garbage tunnel in Penn Station. I can sit in exactly the right car to jump off the train 2-5 steps from the platform stairwell leading to the exact door to the street which is closest to my final destination.  I never, ever, get stuck in a seat facing backwards. Barf. I have long since overcome my curiosity about the chirping bird noises blaring from a single loudspeaker downstairs underneath the NJT departure board near the Krispy Kreme