Here’s an important bit of knowledge for those of you attempting to ride the subway with consistency without being horrified constantly: if the train is packed, do not go into the sole empty car. It could be something as innocuous as no air conditioning, but more than likely it’s an exploded rat or a pair of soiled underpants. This goes for seats too – if the train is so packed that you’re practically spooning the person in front of you, but there’s an empty seat, the chances are that someone peed, shat, or vomited on it. Or all three.
When I boarded a relatively crowded train this evening, I inspected a suspiciously empty seat, which turned out to have a mysterious brown substance smeared all over it, clearly a result of someone’s unsuccessful attempt to wipe it off. A lady tentatively approached the seat and I thought smugly, “What a chump.”
Then she reached into her bag and delicately unfolded three disposable napkins, placed them over said unidentifiable substance, and sat her ass down on this gloriously empty seat! This bitch brought her own motherfucking ass protection onto the train. Bowing the fuck down.
As it turned out, the real chump was still to come. When said genius boss bitch left her throne, she graciously left behind her protective layer of bodega napkins behind. Shrewd and generous, our future queen is.
Her efforts were in vain, as a lumbering man with an unfortunate combover got off the R train and trundled across the platform, boorishly swept the protective napkins aside, and plopped straight down onto the brownish matter.
Anyway, two other quintessential New York moments that happened today: I made eye contact with a dude that was peeing on my street, at like eight o fucking clock. Like, dude, I don’t want to meet eyes with you while you’re touching your penis. Gross. And my rent is increasing by a hundred bucks. So yeah, fuck New York!