Tag Archives: street signs

On Location

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Perhaps as a consequence of being cooped in, I’ve found myself thinking about the importance of location. An example:

I snapped this photo during a pre-pandemic shopping trip to a department store. The store was in North America, and the escalator next to this sign was in limbo, or maybe the repair shop. Either way, an elevator in CHINA was not in any way a convenience.

Moving on to another sort of location:

Et tu, New York Times? I thought I could count on my hometown newspaper to place descriptions in the proper location. I don’t know much about history or mathematical predictions, but I do know that the modifier that was used for D-Day should appear after method.

Another location problem, courtesy of my friend Ellie:

I can only conclude that whoever wrote this sign has really, really long arms.

Last one:

Say you’re driving a taxi. What happens after 46th Street? Does your passenger — or your car — go directly to jail without passing Go and collecting $200? Turn into a pumpkin? And what happens if you’re driving a couple or a group? Can your vehicle legally remain in bus lanes after 46 St?

This signs may be confusing, but one thing could not be clearer: the correct location in 2020 is socially distant. Stay safe and well!

Where?

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I don’t allow my phone to broadcast where it is and therefore where I am, because I enjoy whatever shred of privacy I can wring from modern life. I do wish, though, that some signs gave better information about location. For example, imagine you’re driving and come upon this sign:

Bay?

A bay can be a coastal indentation that boats bob around in. It can also be a window or a tree, and sometimes the sound of a hound. Digging deep into the vocabulary of public transportation, you find that a bay is where a bus parks to pick up or drop off passengers. But suppose you’re driving a car on a Manhattan street. What are the odds that you’ll slow down to figure out where the “bay” is, or worse, that you’ll spend so much time thinking about the sign that you’ll overlook the red light in front of you? I stood near this sign for a while, watching cars turn left from any of three lanes, plus a bit of another, which was intended for vehicles traveling in the opposite direction. Redefine bay if you please, but please let it be common usage before it hits the streets.

Another location issue:

Curated how?

I’ve held onto this sign since last autumn, trying to decide what the thrift shop is doing. “Curated” implies careful selection. But “curated by location”? I can only imagine a vast sorting area with workers deciding whether a coat is “totally Chelsea” or “too Upper East Side.” If so, I’d like to see the selection criteria. Wait, actually I would not like to see the selection criteria. I gnash my teeth often enough these days.

Which brings me to this, the best statement about location I’ve come across:

Instant karma

I’ve seen several cryptic messages like this one, sprayed around my neighborhood. They take me back to the early days of Keith Haring’s career, when he pasted black paper over subway ads and then drew barking dogs or radiant children. Am I watching the next street artist develop? Maybe. Even if the artist never achieves Haring- or Banksy-level fame, it’s nice to know where karma comes back: in the shower.

Grammarians in Other Cities

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New York is generally the city  this grammarian is in, but not always.  On a recent trip to Washington, D.C., I found myself puzzled by more than politics:

This sign was in the window of a shop specializing in shipping and receiving packages. At first I thought the clerks were tired of inquiries about a service they did not provide, but the walls were lined with mail boxes. My next theory was that the sign would disappear when the mail showed up. Over the course of four days, though, the sign remained, even at night. My third and final thought — though I’m open to suggestions — is that this sign is an existential statement (“The mail is not here because it, like life, is an illusion”).

Before I returned to New York to retrieve my all-too-existent mail, mostly ads and bills, I walked around the capital. Tiring, I headed for the metro on 12th Street.  I was heartened by the fact that I was currently on 13th. Only one block to go, I thought. Wrong! Here’s what I saw at the next corner:

That’s it for Washington. Friendly grammarians in other cities sent me these gems. From Ellie in Montreal:

One can only hope that this fellow’s brick work is better than his spelling of “chimney.”

Here’s a contribution from Don in San Francisco:

I do hope that the “ethnic ingredients” have been cooked into some sort of meal, rather than presented as a set of separate, grocery-store packages. Ditto for the “can vegetables.” And while we’re on the subject of “can vegetables,” is that something the restaurant really wants to brag about?  Or is this some sort of “truth in labeling” requirement?  Given that both halves of the sign are labeled “lunch & dinner,” the offerings are strange. I guess you could enjoy them on a half-street, next to a fireplace with a clean chimniey, as you read no mail.