Picture, if you will, the following scene.
It is ten o'clock at night. A woman around thirty years of age (but maybe very slightly older), bundled to the neck against twenty degree weather, bustles past the everlong block of Silvercup Studios. Hopefully, she emerges onto the brink of the abandoned strip that is the western portion of Queens Plaza South. To her elation she sees exactly what she wants to see: her bus, the Q102, turning the corner from 21st Street. Standing next to the bus stop sign, she waves gently as if to say, "hello my savior from the cold cold night!"
And yet, to her surprise, the behemoth vehicle does not draw near the curb where she stands, does not attempt to stop; does not, in fact, even slow. As her surprise turns to shock, the bus simply passes as if she were not standing there in the freezing dark, next to the sign declaring that in this place a carriage called Q102 will arrive to take her home.
Shock turns to a vague sense of outrage as she begins to walk east, staring down the taillights of her would-be ride which is gaining progressively more distance ahead of her. She thinks for a moment about climbing the three flights of stairs that will bring her to the train platform as she passes the entrance to Queensboro Plaza, but rather passes them by, fueled by her anger and ready for a walk. She steers herself instead up 29th Street.
At 40th Avenue, she is livid. At 38th, annoyed. At 35th she remembers a bar up the road a little ways and laughs to herself about an evening had there not so long ago. At 33rd she spies a Christmas tree, still decorated and lit, through a second story window and is charmed that some are still clinging to the joys of the season.
By 31st Avenue she is near enough to home to claim her neighborhood, and noticing again the sculpted stone and wrought iron details of the pre-war apartment buildings that have caught her eye since that first November day, so long ago now, that she first rode the N out to its northern extremity. Remembering why it is that she has, in fact, loved this place from the start.
And so, eff you Q102. I didn't want to ride you anyway.