Subway Hate — A New York Moment
Some days my rage against New York is barely containable. On those days I have to work extra hard to swallow my temper. It's practically tangible, my rage, it's sticky and bitter and it makes my tongue feel swollen. It generally starts first thing in the morning, while riding the subway. Poor subway etiquette drives me mad with frustration. It begins the moment the train doors open. Two things happen simultaneously. The crowd on the platform waiting to board the train does not wait for the passengers on the train to exit before boarding. These inconsiderate bastards delay the exiting process by blocking the exiting peoples paths. While this is happening there is also individuals that are already on the train, standing in front of the open doors like a fucking road block. They just stand there, unmoving, unflinching. As though its a social statement that they're trying to make in order to elevate their personal feeling of power. These people are scum and need to be set on fire for 30 seconds at a time every thirty minutes for the rest of their lives.
Once on the train there are many assaults to the senses. There's the person listening to their shitty music at top volume on cheap headphones. There's the person rapping out loud with a bad-ass look on their face as if to show the world that they're fucking tough. There's the person who wears a giant backpack and doesn't take it off so that we're all forced to move around this giant hump on their back. There's the person who leans on the poles so to block anyone else's hands from holding on while the train is in motion. And then there are the smells. Farts, B.O., bad breath, food, alcohol, and other random nastiness. Throw a hundred people into the mix and you've got yourself a party with no escape. Put yourself in a pair of heels. Carry some bags. It's all loads of fun and it gets funner every single day. The Brompton's Cocktail song, "Destroy New York", is my personal anthem most mornings. Is it June 1st yet?
Oddly, this is in direct contrast to my "I Love New York" post from today. :P
That's it. We're getting a divorce.
A thought for the new Blog site name: The Portland Commute.
E Train wrote:
I've always thought that if hell exists, it would be very personal to each tenant. Mine would consist of a subway commute that never ends, but I'm not exactly aware of it.
Sounds to me like someone needs a piece...
You're absolutely right. I would love a piece. Pulsating and warm. Sticky and thick between my fingers. Ripped from the chest of every inconsiderate shithead who I encounter on a daily basis. I wonder if they would know it was me, standing there with their heart in my hand, before they crumpled and fell like a pushbutton collapsible toy.
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