Down in the dank dingy dirty tunnels my sense of direction is effectively erased by the screeching noise of the trains hurtling over century-old tracks, the disembodied robot women scatting on the P.A. system,  and those colorful ads for the Dr. Zitzmore dermatology disaster recovery clinic.

This happens to tourists and 1st semester college kids almost every time they come upstairs to the street from the subway. They don’t know east from west, north from south, Harlem from the Village, Carnarsie from Sunnyside, Bedford from St. Marks Place – you have to look around to see signs and re-set the internal compass.

Isn’t this the Williamsburg Industrial Neighborhood?

This Skewville looking sign recently appeared in the run-down garbage-strewn lot next to this subway entrance, which may be the only welcoming sign on the block.

Of course there still could be someone lurking in the bushes waiting to mug you – the property has been ignored so long that weeds are now trees.  But at least when you glance up you will know what neighborhood you were robbed in.