No Excuses

It's been a quiet pre-Christmas week on the subway, so I'll have to rely on the assholes above ground today for material. And they did not disappoint. I ventured out to get soup for lunch today, and as I finish the transaction, a man is standing right in my path, unmoving. He's not in line for soup, but just hanging out right in the middle of the sidewalk so no one can get by. I say "excuse me", but he doesn't react at all, so I try to slink by him the best I can. As I nudge up against him the tiniest bit he suddenly springs to life and shoots me a snotty "you're excused!" which I took as an accusation.

A block from my office, as I turned the corner onto Houston, a large, down-jacketed woman bumped right into me - no apology, no begging for pardons. As I walked past her I through a big "excuse you!" right at her. She started explaining how some woman was pushing her, and that's what caused the collision, blah blah blah. But I didn't see the point to backing down at that point. Imagine the fun that ensued when I realized she also worked in the same building as me.

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.

The DJ

Took a short daytime ride on the F. Though I waited for about 20 minutes for the Brooklyn-bound train, the ride itself was fairly pleasant. I was zoning out, listening to music, when I noticed a man (also with headphones) shooting poison dart rays towards the youngish girl sitting next to him. She didn't have any headphones on, but was clearly doing something with an iPod. I took out my own headphones and was treated to a blast of some crappy Junior High rappy shit. The stupid bitch was listening to the music OUT LOUD on the train. And loud enough that the guy next to her could hear it even over his own music/headphones. Not sure if he said something, or she just got the hint as a few more of us began a death glare in her direction, but she eventually pulled out some headphones and put them in.

I thought that was that, but about a stop later, she took the headphones back out, and treated the car to her little DJ set once again before exiting at the next stop. Damn kids.

Dirty People, Zigzaggers, and Ugly Purses

Cold, rainy morning. Doors were just closing on the M train as I made it to the platform, but I shoved my way right in anyway. I got stuck for a minute, but then made it in. I normally don't do that since I once got my bag stuck inside a closed door, while the rest of me was still on the outside, but I was late for a meeting so I took my chances.

The train was fairly empty, but when I got off to switch at Atlantic the platform was packed several rows deep. I got stuck behind the first of three Zigzaggers getting off the train. She would take a couple steps, then stop and look around. As the rest of us tried to move around her, she would move sideways to block us. Then stop. Then look around. The move back to the other side. Rinse. Repeat. When I finally made it around her, I found myself face to face with a bright white leather purse. Given that I'm not even sold on the whole "winter white" argument and had retired my own off-white purse on Labor Day, there was no way this stark WHITE white purse could be justified on a soon-to-be-snowy December day. I averted my offended eyes only to come upon yet another stark bright WHITE white shiny purse. Ewwwwww.

Still recoiling in horror, I packed myself into the just arrived D train. Soon as I grabbed onto the pole I instantly regretting my door choice. Big, tall girl standing with her back to me, large back pack on her back (and directly in my face), big fur collar (directly in my face), dirty unwashed pony tail (directly in my face). She was holding onto the top bar, elbow sticking out (can you guess? Yes...directly in my face). She was coincidentally wearing a bright white down jacket that I had to keep ducking so as not to smear my lipstick all over the back of it. Which begs the question, why can't everyone be as considerate as I am?

Hipster or Feathered Foreigner?

I spent most of this morning's ride sitting across from what at first glance appeared to be your basic Brooklyn hipster a-hole attired in a flat black felt derby-style hat. But after some inspection, I noticed a black bow on one side of the hat, with a feather sticking out of it. That's when I became perplexed. This was no ordinary Fort Greene hipster douche. He was bundled up in a zip-up black jacket so I couldn't really assess his situation from the rest of his clothes...until I noticed the white athletic socks peeking out between his gray/black too-short jeans and black lace-up shoes. Is it possible he was merely a foreign visitor to our land? It was all starting to make sense, except for one thing. What was he doing with a regular work-style bag sitting on the R train at 8:30 on a rainy morning? Am I wrong? Have feathers and bows and too-short pants suddenly become fashionable amongst the hipster a-hole scene?

The Blocker and the Ass-Dividing Garment Bagger

Crazy crowded ride in this AM. I just missed an M train, so waited for 15 minutes until an R finally rolled in. The train was packed, plus the door I picked had a very large man blocking at least half of the entry/exit way. By the time everyone had exited out that door, the car was completely full. But I was already late for a meeting, so I channeled my own inner-asshole and forcibly shoved my way past him inside. There was nothing to hold on to, so I just leaned up against The Blocker for the bumpy parts of the ride.

When the train cleared out a bit at Atlantic, I made a beeline for one of two empty seats at the same time as a man holding a large folded garment bag. But instead of taking one seat for himself, the Garment Bagger cut me off and sat down right in the middle of both, one seat per ass cheek. Only after I glared death rays at him did he inch over to give me part of one seat. A few stops later the seat next to him opened up and he moved himself over, looking at me for approval once he was as close as humanly possible to the wall on his other side. I gave him a slight nod and then decided to cut off all contact just in case it was a dead body inside that giant garment bag he was clutching.

A few stops later, he hung the garment bag on the bar next to him. Not sure why, but it seemed like a really obnoxious thing to do.

The Picker

Fairly uneventful commute on the M to D switch this morning. The D train was uncharacteristically empty this AM, which gave me a bird's eye view to the attractive young guy picking his nose as he watched a video on his iPod. There was an extraordinary amount of sniffling and nose-wiping going on around me, but this guy dove right in and when done put the offending hand right back on the pole. Having learned a thing or two about hygiene this weekend, I plan to invest in some Purell. At some point over the Manhattan Bridge, I caught him inching around the area again. I'm sure he would argue it was more "scratch" than "pick", but I beg to differ.