It smells like a fart and the woman next to me is swaying her head to the scratchy, amateur melody of "Lean On Me". Either that or she is bobbing in and out of sleep. I can't tell and would quite honestly rather not make eye contact. "Please don't lean on me", I silently wish. I can barely stand the irony. She is periodically scratching her weave and I suddenly wish I had made the decision to stand. Too late. In the distance, another man joins in, "Call meeeeee, ohhhh just callllll me." "Sing it brother!," yet another proclaims.
Am I in hell? Try the 4-5 Express. The driver of this particular subway train is a real prankster and keeps pressing the button instructing everyone to "leave the train immediately" in between stops. No one is amused.
Am I in hell? Try the 4-5 Express. The driver of this particular subway train is a real prankster and keeps pressing the button instructing everyone to "leave the train immediately" in between stops. No one is amused.
My half hour journey through crackieland commences, and its now time to navigate the endless stream of cigarette smoke and bus exhaust that is 57th street. I make my way to the end of my tour de filth; the express bus stop. Where I wait for 20 minutes to an hour for a bus that is sometimes full; all the while getting blasted with exhaust that seems to get hotter as the minutes tick by. Today I am particularly lucky, as several people on the bus are sitting in the aisle seats,with no one next to them, pretending to be asleep. I want to hit them with something. Of course they miraculously wake up the moment everyone is seated. Degenerates. Has no one ever informed them that character is defined by who you are when no one is watching?
Yap, yap, yappity yap. Someone's on their cell phone again! "Let me keep this short since I'm on the bus and hate people who talk on the bus". Newsflash lady, YOU are that person. Why does it always seem less offensive to people when the actions are their own? And the conversation continues for a good 20 minutes.
5 days a week, 52 weeks a year. 180 minutes of my life that I will never get back. Eat, sleep, lather, rinse, repeat. It's enough to make a person go mad. Maybe that explains the crackhead singing a capella on the train. Full circle, people. Maybe we're all just a bad commute away from "Lean on Me" and a tip cup. At least he's having fun.
Yap, yap, yappity yap. Someone's on their cell phone again! "Let me keep this short since I'm on the bus and hate people who talk on the bus". Newsflash lady, YOU are that person. Why does it always seem less offensive to people when the actions are their own? And the conversation continues for a good 20 minutes.
5 days a week, 52 weeks a year. 180 minutes of my life that I will never get back. Eat, sleep, lather, rinse, repeat. It's enough to make a person go mad. Maybe that explains the crackhead singing a capella on the train. Full circle, people. Maybe we're all just a bad commute away from "Lean on Me" and a tip cup. At least he's having fun.
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