Yesterday my husband Jason offered me a proposition. Go to a museum with him and he’ll take me to Chipotle. Normally I’d say no dice. After all, we have a Chipotle in our neighborhood and I could go any time I wanted. Trek into the city to stare at dead things or antiquated things? No thanks.
But he wasn’t asking to go to MoMA. Nor was he asking to go to the Museum of Natural History or the Museum of Sex, affectionately dubbed MoSex, but the New York City Transit Museum located for my lucky convenience, just two blocks away.
It was Saturday, I was in a good mood and who was I to deny our son Mylo another Mylostone: his first trip to a museum. So, as much as I’m not for museums, I agreed.
Lord knows Mylo’s dad will be dragging him along to many more as he gets older. That will either be a good thing, or if the little fella’s got my genes for museums then I’ll do everything in my power to get him out of it!
The NYC Transit Museum was actually a lot of fun. You walk through subway-like tunnels where memorabilia, photos and stories about the evolution of this city’s transit system are on display. And perhaps the coolest part was going in and out of the subway cars and elevated trains that spanned the better part of the 20th century.
On the way out, there is a wall of black and white photos from the 30’s and 40’s of New Yorker’s going through subway turnstiles and I found myself scanning them for a familiar face. My grandmother and aunt are after all, from Brooklyn.
