Every morning, when the massive, black iron gates open, I jog past the ragged stonewalls towards the old mausoleums. I jump over tombstones and weave past undertakers. Western Queens doesn’t have a big park with old trees and ponds; what we do have is Calvary Cemetery, America’s largest graveyard. Wedged between the Brooklyn-Queens and the Long Island Expressways and carelessly dissected into four jagged parts, Calvary borders Sunnyside, Woodside, and Maspeth. With more than three million burials, it is big enough to accommodate my lifelong fears of death and dying, of seeing too much without being seen.
I am an Anxious Person. I am Anxiety. Give me a cold, and [...]
"HOW TO PERFECT YOUR PARTY CONVERSATION SKILLS… SAY HELLO." Maybe you already know how to talk to strangers, but in case you don't, The School of Life (by way of the Daily Mail) provides a refresher. "Here's some candy," seems like a good opener, although they recommend "Who would your celebrity mum and dad be?" and "What era would you most liked to have lived in?" (For when you're past introductions.)
Not bad, but what else? This is a serious question. "What's the last illegal thing you did?" could be good. Let's help one another.
At what point do you have to stop inching away from the man coughing on the train — not so much coughing, actually, as cyclically huffing wet explosions — and help him obtain medical attention because he may actually be — oops, it's my stop, nevermind, good luck with your thing!