Strike, Strike, Strike!
New York lay pleasently aslumber, but in the city dwelled something dreadful. Not a whisper on the streets, but in a shining hotel, words were passed that would decide a city's fate. In a conference room, men in suits debated. One, a leader of the transit workers union, with an accent so thick he could barely be understood. The other, a leader of the Metro transit authority,in a carefully pressed suits but the bags showing underneath his eyes as it neared midnight. Men sat at all sides, arguing a mere piece of paper.

The clock struck midnight. The rugged man turned his back and left the room, heading with a group to inform the others that nothing was to be gotten through debate and conversation. A short drive, and he was amongst his own, the transit union. A ballot was passed, and a decision was made. A strike. If they wouldn't get their demands through speech, they would receive their demands by force.

3 am. The people of New York still lay sleeping, but a decision had been made for them. They'd struggle that morning, that day, and perhaps longer due to a simple whisper let out of a room. An announcement was made, and suddenly, the buses became empty. The subways unattended. Within mere minutes, the transit strike was on and transportation was down. However, the people of New York didn't yet know this. They slumbered peacefully without a second thought, after all, they had expected the strike last week... and it hadn't happened. There had been mumbles, threatening words, but nothing to suggest that today might be the day every bus in the city to freeze. No secret signal that those underground trains would stand frozen. None.

The city dwellers awakened that morning, and were frozen in realization as they stared at their television screens in surprise. There hadn't been a transit strike since 1980, how, how, could they do this now? Were strikes not illegal? However, they were soon overtaken by thoughts regarding how they'd get to work, get their children to school, who would they carpool with to achieve the 4-people in a car city entrance minimum... panic rushed through a city. That morning, thousands... perhaps millions of people walked across bridges in freezing 22 degree temperatures. They car-pooled, found alternate methods to reach work, and many simply stayed home. While many students attended schools near their homes, others stayed home chuckling, wondering how a mere two-hour delay would ever help them defeat a multi-hour commute. After all, the bridges stood still, and cars just barely crawled across them, the traffic being so severe.

Soon, it was 4 o'clock. Panic caught people once more. They had reached work that morning, but how would they ever return? A few hours walking once more? Perhaps a few miles hike to that ferry? With some luck, it would take less than an hour to come this time...

...what happened? We'll see. After all, this story isn't a fictional novel but merely my life today. I had no way to reach school, seeing as it is within the city... and it would take me many hours to walk. My fear, though, is that this strike will last more than one day. What, then? While missing class one day is alright, staying home and watching the news, starting my vacation a week early isn't quite as sweet as it sounds. I'm intending to carpool tommorow, I've found a person who might drive.

As I write this, on the television, I hear the story of how the Red Cross is handing out coffee at the center of the bridge, and how some santas are selling heating belts (?). I also hear a woman shrieking about how frozen she is. Let us hope for the best, us being myself and whoever might actually read this.

-Artsy Sheep