Friday, December 19, 2008

Pure Evil Rides The Rails

Quick moving ride on the train this AM. I caught an M at Union right away. I didn't bother sitting as I knew I had to transfer. As I was standing near the door, I wondered if perhaps I'd put on a bit too much makeup that morning so I snuck a quick glance at my reflection in the door. A dirty-haired bitch standing there with her gross boyfriend/husband must have thought I was staring at her, and shot me an evil look in return. Whatever.

But that was nothing compared with the horror I was about to face on the D train. The D rolled right in, but the platform was 3-4 people deep, so knew it would be a battle. I managed to get in and wedge a nice spot for myself by the pole closest to the door. But just as I was grabbing hold, I felt a huge, painful weight hit my shoulder and back. I turned to say "what the fuck?" and came face to face with true evil as I had ever known it. This horrible, unwashed woman in a huge down jacket with fur hood was standing basically on top of me. She'd somehow managed to pound me with her bag on the head (?) and not even noticed (??), and then kicked it on the ground right into me. Unwashed hair, holding a coffee cup AND a New Yorker (the most hideously pretentious publication known to man). To make matters worse, every time she took a swig of coffee, she would bend her entire body backwards, right into me, fur collar first. I had a little space to one side, so I scooched myself over a bit to escape the invasion, at which point she merely moved closer to me allowing herself more room for her pretentious coffee chugging bending. I finally gave her a big shove with my bag in hopes of keeping her at bay, but essentially on top of me she remained.

At Grand Street I quickly grabbed one of the newly vacated seat in front of me. But the evil bitch got lucky as the seat next to me opened up, and plopped herself down right next to me. Or shall I say, on top of my left leg. Seems I wasn't allowing enough room for her down jacket and bag. Seriously though - what's up with all the fucking fur collars? This isn't Russia.

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