Fundamentals of Interactive Journalism

I didn’t think so.  But after my ride home to Brooklyn last night, I’m wondering if the social norms on the subway have changed in the past five years.

Most mornings I pass my 50-minute ride on the F train sipping my can’t-live-without-it morning cup of coffee and eating a piece of fruit.  And I’m not alone.  All around me I see travel mugs- in hands, strapped on bags, resting on a knee.   Fellow travelers munch on bagels or donuts while reading the morning news.

And no one seems bothered.

Last night, desperate for sustenance after a long day without lunch, I stopped at a vendor on 40th Street and grabbed a lamb gyro for the ride home.  But as soon as I stepped on train, I realized this trip would be an uncomfortable one.  People stared, not even trying to be discreet, and sat far away from me and my dinner.  My stomach began to ache, not from a lack a food, but from the distinct feeling that I wasn’t wanted on the train.

When did this happen???  Five years ago when I moved to the city, it was a rare evening ride that didn’t present someone eating chicken wings, pizza or a McDonalds meal.  I came to love the subway for all the things you could do while riding it.  Hadn’t finished grading those exams?  Do it on the train.  Dying to read the last chapter of a great book?  Read it on the train.  Missed breakfast?  Eat it on the train, right??

A few years back the MTA considered banning food and drinks on the trains, but the measure didn’t pass.  Still, it seems that attitudes about food on the train are changing.

I’m curious, do you eat on the subway?  If so, how do people around you react?

1. I will treat this blog as an outlet and not an assignment.

2. I will read my classmates’ posts.

3. I will follow the golden rule when it comes to posting comments (I will comment unto their blog posts as I would have them comment unto mine.)

4.  I will eat fewer bagels when trying to muster enthusiasm for this blog.

In the tradition of transparency, let me first say that I love washing dishes.  I know, I know.  This admission will not earn me friends or coolness points, but it’s true.

When I step up to a counter full of grungy dishes, I know exactly what to do.  First, check for guilty substances (crusty oatmeal, dried egg yolk, greasy drippings, burned rice residue, etc.)  Second, address major offenders with hot water and let them soak.  Third, tackle the glasses before the drying towel gets soaked.  Wash them and dry them immediately to avoid water stains.  Fourth, return to soaked items, first using an abrasive surface, then a very soapy sponge.  Rinse and repeat if necessary.  Fifth, clean pans which get the water in the sink filthiest.  Sixth, wash silverware that has conveniently been soaking at the bottom of the sink.  Lastly, dry dishes and admire them as you fill your perfectly organized cabinets.  Job done!

Journalism is NOT like doing dishes.  There is no right way to tackle a story, no tried-and-true method for being objective, and certainly no clear point when you know your work is done.  Sometimes what you thought was newsworthiest doesn’t strike the same chord with an editor.  Other times, you do a fanastic job reporting, only to get lost in your notes and forget what the news was.  And no matter how many times you reread your final draft, someone always finds a way you could make it better.

I’ve decided, in an attempt at optimism, that journalism is like making sangría.  Yes, there are guidelines (you always start with wine and fruit), but no set recipe.  Just like writing a story, you must consider your audience.  Do my guests have a sweet tooth?  If so, go heavier on the sugar or add lemon soda.  If not, choose drier wine or add something not sweet like seltzer.  Are they prim and proper?  Chances are they won’t use their fingers to dig the sunken pieces of fruit out of their glasses, so stick with lemon and orange slices for garnish and add fruit juices instead of fruit bits.  Do they enjoy a good buzz?  Instead of fruit juice, use fruit liquor like Cointreau.

In the end, making sangría is more about who’s drinking it than what some cookbook says.  Likewise, I will try to remind myself that journalism is all about the audience.  Do they already know about the project I just heard about?  Then give them the latest developments.  Are they quickly reading my story on the subway?  Get to the nutgraph faster.

As for my love of checking tasks off my to do list, I’ll return to my metaphor.  Sure, I’ve made tons of rockin’ sangría already, but the best pitcher ever is still out there, just waiting for me to make it.

I’ve always wanted to be a New Yorker.  For years, I have lusted after their complete lack of emotional response to things that make normal people scream, cry or run away.  And with several years living as a wannabe Brooklynite, I thought I had mastered the act.  When that man flipped me off and screamed obscenities at me for asking for his reaction to the vice presidential debates, I laughed.  When a mentally disturbed man had a shouting match with himself on the subway, I kept reading my book.

But when I walked by the Sony store on 5th Avenue Saturday night and realized there was man IN the store window, lounging in a recliner reading an e-book, I stopped with my friends and took a picture.   (”Tourist,” a true New Yorker would scoff.)  And when I walked by again hours later heading home, I stopped and stared at the man in the window, asleep with his bare feet dangling out from his blanket.

Then I came home with a need to settle my curiosity.  Who was this man and why was he sleeping in a Midtown store window?

His name is Dave Farrow and he is a two-time world record holder.  He once memorized the order of 59 decks of playing cards shuffled together, and he’s a speed reader.  So Sony hired him to live in the display window for the month of October to promote the Reader Revolution, which is basically a pledge the company made to donate 100 e-books to a school for every page Dave turns.

It sounds like a win-win, right?  Sony sells a ton of digital book readers and gets great publicity while school kids get free digital books.

But what about Dave?  Is it really humane to make him live in a store front window, for all the world to gawk at, just to save Americans’ dwindling interest in books?

Yeah.  It probably is, especially in an overstimulated city like New York.  Nevertheless, I’m convinced that there are better ways to inspire young readers in New York City.   My main issue with the Sony experiment is that the scope of its influence is limited.  Sure, it’s great to donate educational things to school children, but most of the kids in NYC won’t see the man living in the store who overcame dyslexia and ADD and loves to read books.  I want to see a pro-literacy scheme that won’t just give kids books, but will also share with them a little piece of the enthusiasm we have for reading.

Any ideas?