The Newtown Pentacle

Wednesday

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Stir crazy, that’s how I’d describe the mental state one enjoyed after hunkering down for endless days during a fairly historic weather event here in Pittsburgh. Couldn’t stand it anymore.

One wrapped his pre-corpse in the usual fuligin, except for the coat, which was the heavy duty and super warm Carhartt ‘Pennsylvania Coat.’ The only other exception to the usual rule was my headwear, which was a fedora constructed from thick leather.

The hat is something I only roll out during icy conditions, and it provides me with some protection from falling ice which is sloughing off of trees, utility poles, and trestles. A baseball cap ain’t gonna help you at all if a chunk of ice gets dislodged from a structure and falls, cracking you one right in the gulliver. The leather hat ain’t a hard hat, but it’s kept me from getting clogged on the noggin by falling ice several times over the years.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Walking toward the T light rail station, here in Pittsburgh’s Dormont, I passed by a ‘parking chair.’ There’s a lot of colloquial customs out here. The Pittsburgh Left isn’t a legal move, but it’s expected for you to participate at narrow intersections to keep traffic moving. You signal the other driver that it’s ok to turn in front of you by flashing your ‘brights’ at them.

The parking chairs are installed by someone who dug a car out of the snow and then left for work, with the chair vouchsafing that the hard won spot will be there afterwards. Woe to you, should you decide to move somebody else’s parking chair, and leave your car in that space. Ain’t pretty, what happens next…

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Up at the top of the hill, where the light rail station is found, and one was passing the time while waiting for my chariot by waving the camera about. Dormont has a snow removal operation underway, with heavy equipment. We received about 14 inches of the stuff in the first big storm, which was then followed by a severe drop in temperature, and then by what seemed like daily bands of light snow which striped new layers of precipitant onto the original problem. All of this ‘weather’ has resulted in a not insignificant amount of ‘frozen’ which needs to be cleared away.

The Yinzers might say ‘it needs clear.’ They have a weird local language tick out here, part of the local cultural ‘vernacular.’ As a non Yinzer you’d say that ‘I need to wash my car,’ whereas the Yinzer would say ‘my car needs wash.’ Fascinating usage, to me at least.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The Pittsburgh bound T light rail arrived, and your humble narrator boarded the thing. As I passed through the aisles of seats while shambling onboard, people looked up with concern and disgust visible on their faces, women clutched at their handbags, a service dog began to growl.

The plan for the day was for a short scuttle, due to the cold, but I’d been sitting on my butt for better than a week at this point and I was anxious to get out and about. One was ‘traveling light,’ with the camera and only a couple of lenses. What I’ve described in the past as my ‘minimum kit,’ the basics.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

It was an unambitious route that I had cooked up. I’d take the T to the North Side, a path which I’d calculated as being a bit less risky regarding blocked sidewalks and such, due to the presence of large institutions in the area – stadiums, hospitals, office buildings. Turns out ‘not so much.’

Again, without the retribution for inaction offered by an army of DSNY inspectors who write tickets with abandon, people just kind of let things slide. Sliding is a lot of what I ended up doing during this afternoon walk.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

I debarked the T light rail at the ‘North Side’ stop, which more or less underlies the stadium where the Pittsburg Pirates regularly disappoint their fans. Even the hotels didn’t feel compelled to fully clear their sidewalks, and one negotiated his way through a path that was suspiciously the same width as your average snow shovel. No wider than maybe 18 inches, with slush lagoons.

One of the nearby hotels had rid itself of several mattresses. The wrapped up one betrays the protocol for bed bugs, as a note.

Back tomorrow.

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