April 2007

Thirty-three years ago today, Virgil Martin Dietsch, my father, died of pancreatic cancer. If I’m doing the math correctly, he has now been dead for longer than he was ever alive.

So, I see McLaren’s gotten all ranty about escalators, and I’m pretty much with him on this, I guess, barring any physical limitations that require you to stand on the escalator. Shopping malls, movie theaters, airports (sometimes)–yeah, just use your legs, dammit.

The subway’s different, though. I ride. Well, sometimes. If the escalator is short, about 20 to 30 feet, I walk it–up or down. If it’s long or it’s at a really steep angle, I ride. I stand aside so folks can pass, of course, but I ride.

And we do have some long, steep escalators. At 53rd St. and Lexington Ave., underneath Jen’s building, the escalator descends 80 feet vertically, at a fairly steep pitch. (80 is the height. I don’t know the hypotenuse, but I’m sure it’s easily 100 feet or more.) On such a long, steep escalator, I’m likelier to walk up than I am down. I have a slight fear of heights, so if I’m riding it down, I look straight ahead to avoid the vertigo. Walking down requires looking down, and that makes me dizzy. You don’t want to be immediately in front of a 240-pound man who gets dizzy on a long, steep escalator.

If I’m going up, the vertigo doesn’t kick in, so it’s easy for me to walk.

Also, in the subway, it’s not just a matter of walking–it’s a matter of walking at everyone else’s pace, which comes in three speeds: fast, faster, and get the goddamn hell outta my way. If you can’t or won’t keep up, it really is better for everyone if you just stand there.

I’ve seen folks sprinting up or down escalators. If you’re just walking, you really do need to step right to let them pass. That’s if you can. If every step is occupied, then suddenly you either sprint yourself or keep your normal pace and listen to them cursing you out behind you.

So, yeah. When I’m on an escalator that carrying me eight stories down into the earth, I don’t want to get shoved by someone who thinks I’m not walking fast enough. I stand.

(Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan)

Don’t go to church on Sunday
Don’t get on my knees to pray
Don’t memorize the books of the Bible
I got my own special way
Bit I know Jesus loves me
Maybe just a little bit more

I fall on my knees every Sunday
At Zerelda Lee’s candy store

Well it’s got to be a chocolate Jesus
Make me feel good inside
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Keep me satisfied

Well I don’t want no Anna Zabba
Don’t want no Almond Joy
There ain’t nothing better
Suitable for this boy
Well it’s the only thing
That can pick me up
Better than a cup of gold
See only a chocolate Jesus
Can satisfy my soul

(Solo)
When the weather gets rough
And it’s whiskey in the shade
It’s best to wrap your savior
Up in cellophane
He flows like the big muddy
But that’s ok
Pour him over ice cream
For a nice parfait

Well it’s got to be a chocolate Jesus
Good enough for me
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Good enough for me

Well it’s got to be a chocolate Jesus
Make me feel good inside
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Keep me satisfied

It’s Opening Day at Yankee Stadium. Yer thinkin’, “Dietsch! I never knew you to care about baseball! What gives?”

Well, I don’t give a shit, really. But day games at Yankee always start at like 1:00 or something, and they end a little after 4. My old job let out at 4:15, dumping me into the Yankee Stadium subway stations at the same goddamn time as 57,000 motherfuckers.

Every day game carried the same hope–extra innings, extra innings, extra innings.
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