The Gospel According to John: The Subway Chronicles, Chapter II

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The misadventures of a New York City commute continue apace.

Ahem.

Dearest Asian Hipster Girl Looking Down Her Nose at my iPod:

Ordinarily, I'd write down some witty introduction here, but ya know what bitch? I got no sleep last night. I laid in my bed wide awake until 4:30 with a strange mental mash-up of U2's 'Beautiful Day' and the theme song to 'Sex and the City' running on a continuous loop through my head for no reason and it kinda made me want to kill myself. I slept straight through my alarm, had no time to shower (though this has caused me to discover that not washing my hair in the morning seems to give it extra control and manageability, as well as a nice sheen, so this particular cloud has a silver lining), forgot to brush my teeth, and was 45 minutes late for work, where I sit now, glaring at the computer screen, trying my damnedest to care whether the pull-quotes for Tuesday's New York Times 'Atonement' ad are properly aligned and whether Keira Knightley's name is not misspelled as 'Kinigtley' like it always, for whatever reason, seems to be, all while a vile taste and, I assume, accompanying odor introduced by my dirty teeth rolls about my mouth. So, you could say, I don't give a flying fuc* about witty introductions. I'll cut straight to the point:

You are an uppity bitch.

Here's why: I flipped on my iPod because in my deeply fatigued state, all I wanted to do on this morning's commute was not listen to the usual subway idiocy and zone out. I spent what seemed like four and half hours trying to decide what to listen to, every option having a distinct downside that made me, in my cranky fog, want to hurl my iPod at the wall and rant about how I needed to download some new music cuz I'm so fuc*ing tired of all this crap. Rather, I decided to just select 'shuffle songs' and come what may.

You, looking down from your assumed hipster-informed musical ivory tower, watched my iPod intently to see what would come up. I saw you. Your eyes were glued, just waiting to see what would pop up on the screen. That alone seemed pathetic enough to me. Why are you so interested in other peoples' music collections? I hate you.

By sheer chance, iPod decided to open the day with Madonna's 'Jump', and you know what you did? You thought I wasn't looking, but I was. YOU ROLLED YOUR EYES. And not just privately or discreetly. You did it with an exaggerated and dramatic headroll as well, as if to express disbelief to...who? That old Greek lady standing in front of you? I doubt she even knows what an iPod is. That girl next to her who was probably listening to Nickelback and daydreaming about getting home to play with her cats? I doubt she'd care. But whoever it was, you were REALLY putting on a show of how totally plebeian and lame you thought I was.

Who, exactly, hipster Asian girl, do you think you are? Just because you have a hot pink streak in your hair and horn-rimmed glasses doesn't make you the arbiter of taste. Yes, yes, I'm sure your exalted iPod is filled with things like Shiny Toy Guns and that Johnny Cash cover album and you sit around with your friends talking about Foucault and stalking no-talent-hack hipster gods like Vincent Gallo so you can blow him or whatever. But let me remind you of a couple things:

#1: I'm assuming you're a refugee from overpriced Manhattan, as most people in Astoria are. Please note that the Manhattan refugees in Astoria tend to be theatre dorks: chubby girls who want to be in musicals and awkwardly effeminate gay men who...well, want to be in musicals. Astoria is many things, but it is NOT hip. So tone down the too-cool-for-school condescension and go to Brooklyn with the rest of your image-obsessed poseur tapered-jean wearing ilk. I hear Bushwick is lovely this time of year.

#2: I know someone who has that coat, and it's from Old Navy. You may be fooling the Nickelback girl, but you're not fooling me. Also, your stupid checkered shoes like the ones I wore in 4th grade are fuc*ing retarded.

#3: You should know that the next song that came up was by Interpol, a hipster favorite. I'm sure you like to pipe in Interpol on those days where you cut yourself to let the pain out or when your too-tight hipster jeans don't quite fit right because of the menstrual cramps or when you're, say, masturbating.

See how much we have in common?

Dearest MTA train conductors:

I realize you have a schedule to keep, and I respect that. However, when drama goes down, as it so often does, and that schedule gets tossed to the wind, causing us riders to stand for interminable lengths of time on tiny platforms designed for 1940's-era crowds ill-equipped to deal with 21st century hordes to the extent that those of us intelligent enough to know that if we don't stand on the edge of the platform we will NOT be making the next train start to feel as if we're about to be shoved onto the tracks by the ensuing throng, do NOT, I repeat do NOT try to rush us once you finally come to our rescue!

This morning you FINALLY arrived at the 59th and Lex 6 platform after whatever the hell it was you were doing up there at 68th St--getting a perm? Playing sudoku? God only knows--and your train was so packed that it took an eternity for all the people to exit the train. You conductors are very, very fond of bellowing at us over the loudspeaker to "Let the people off the train before boarding pleeeeeease!" and we commuters, despite having been marooned on the tiny platform for 25 minutes and having serious discussion about which fellow commuter we were going to kill and eat since it appeared we would never escape, respectfully obeyed, standing to the side and allowing people to exit.

After all we had been through, after all our patience and courtesy, you had the NERVE to close the doors before any of us could even get on the train?!?!?! What is WRONG with you? And THEN, when I and that big black dude who yelled "Aw HELL naw!" grabbed the doors and wrenched them back open, you had the UNMITIGATED GALL to bellow over the loudspeaker "DO NOT HOLD THE DOORS PLEASE LET THE DOORS GO!"

Excuse me?!

Why don't YOU give people a chance to BOARD FIRST? Who even ARE you?! If I had had a gun, I would have taken you hostage and forced YOU to stand between those doors while I closed them on your person over and over and over again while cackling with sadistic glee and shouting "Stand clear of the closing doors, motherfu**er BWAAHHHHH HA HA HA HA HAHHHHHHHH!!!" I waited a week and a half for you to show up and I'll be DAMNED if I will rushed.

Dearest Four Extra People Who Couldn't Fit on the 6 Train But Decided to Shove Their Way In Anyway:

Crazy Russian Lady, I'll KIND OF give you a pass on this. You clearly didn't speak English, and for all I know the Moscow Metro system is still a Communist-era free-for-all. Perhaps you thought that if you didn't make this train, you'd be left to rot and shipped off to the gulag. Fair enough. I still hate you, and you smelled weird, but fair enough.

The last three of you, however, know better. Black Woman, you shoved me SO HARD in your effort to get onto the train that I nearly knocked over the short girl in front of me, then you shoved me SO HARD into the seat divider that I had no other option but to thrust my arm into the face of the woman seated next to where I stood in order to avoid it being crushed under my own torso. Then you stood SO CLOSE to me that I think--I'm not certain, but I THINK--we may have had anal sex. And then, to add insult to (anal) injury, your voluptuous ass was in the way of the doors so they wouldn't close and instead of GETTING OFF THE DAMN TRAIN AND WAITING FOR THE NEXT ONE you shoved some MORE until I heard the Tupperware containing my lunch pop open in my backpack.

Did you not HEAR the announcement that there were not one but TWO more 6 trains waiting to enter the station?

If we ever meet again, you should run. Because if I spot you, I'm going to hogtie you to the subway rails like an old silent movie villain.

That is all.

Comments

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BWAH HA HA HA HA! anal sex... HA!

sorry 'bout your tupperware. HOO! i had a good laugh. thanks.

Posted by: jen | January 07, 2008 at 02:44 PM

Yes, the anal sex part was PRICELESS.

Posted by: Timm | January 07, 2008 at 04:48 PM

You are Carrie Bradshaw's evil twin and I love you for it!

Posted by: Lady Von Poofy Poo | January 07, 2008 at 04:52 PM

Good god, that's hilarious.

Posted by: Jeanna | January 08, 2008 at 10:14 AM

Sir John,
This electronic printing press you've invented is simply fantastic! I keep peering behind this box in hopes of finding you at a typewriter but I come up with nothing but cords and wires. Was this new press at the World's Fair this past year? You'd better secure a patent before Edison gets hold of it. He's a wily one. Oh, the woes of the steamless train. It makes one want to give up and hire a handsome.

Posted by: Lady Von Poofy Poo | January 15, 2008 at 12:10 PM