Why I Will Never Live at the P.O.

DAY 12: Thursday, October 29, 2009

As a teenager, I always chose running over swimming because I detested the sensation of sweating in water. Today, I discovered that I hate sweating in cold weather almost as much! We trapsed across three avenues to the grand post office beside of Penn Station to mail a few important letters. Unfortunately, the stately entrance, composed of several hundred (or maybe just several dozen) steps, did not include a ramp for those of us with wheeled contraptions. So we commenced on a hunt to find the handicapped entrance. The first person we asked, a USPS police officer, told us, in a rather thick Eastern European accent, that there was no ramp into the building and that knowing this was not his job; he was there to guard the door. I refused to believe him, since he was less than convincing and because I thought it was a federal law to make federal buildings handicap accessible. At least I remember a big stink in my hometown over the addition of an unsightly ramp to the historic downtown post office. So, we searched for additional USPS personnel and found one who had the additional benefit of being a helpful citizen. "Yes," the young female mail carrier said. "There is a ramp. It's just on the opposite side of the building." The building, by the way, spans more than two city blocks. So, in the cold weather with the sun beating down on us, we travelled to the other side of the building, which felt like the other side of the world, and found a rickety, rusty ramp into the bottom level of the grand post office. Once inside, I made a bee-line for the elevators to the grand main floor. "No," the lady said. "You can't go up there. You go in that room." In New York , at this post office, those with wheeled contraptions, are relegated to the dungeon. There were three people in line; we waited 45 minutes. Then, the clerk told me I needed to pay extra postage for my two cards because they were too small. Really? "When did the post office start charging extra for cards that were too small?" I asked. I knew there was an extra charge for envelopes that were too large and envelopes that were square, but I had never heard anything about paying extra for an envelope that was too small. The man explained that he didn't have the official measuring sheet, but he was pretty certain that I needed to pay $0.20 extra per card because my 4 x 6 envelopes were small. I told him I would take my chances and immediately thought about my tax dollars at work. If the government could attract and hire competent and efficient workers, I'm quite certain we could be out of debt in no time. With the post office experience behind us, we exited the dungeon and discovered the saving grace of this trip--a magnificent view of the Empire State building from the rickety, rusty ramp. There are silver linings in New York for every cloudy moment. Find other pics from the ramp below.