Friday, April 8, 2005

I came across an article about our Subway and it got me to thinking about some of the things i've seen and encountered on the train in the past. There's nothing like the NYC subway....it's an experience all to itself. That being said, this article pretty much hits the subway experience on the head. Check it out and discuss amongst yourselves....

The Anatomy of a Subway Commute by Matthew L. McCoy


Hi-Yo Silver! Away!
Whether you're one of those funny looking, bright white sneaker stomping, thrill-seeking tourists from Iowa or just another angry Manhattanite, the NYC subway system, like a glass of Tang to start the day, brings out the very best in people.

Take this morning for example…

My subway chariot pulls into the Union Square station and on struts a brotha chock-full of attitude. He was clad in full Sean John regalia, shit kickers and a gorgeous doo rag. Then my man gracefully pivoted on one foot, as if Turbo-inspired, to reveal a Tweetie Bird diaper bag slung over his shoulder. His lady and infant were in tow. The only reason my laughter convulsions didn't result in me getting a beat down was because he had to put down the nippled-bottle of baby formula first. By the time he did, I was already double-timing it up the stairs at the next stop while giggling like a schoolgirl at a tickle fight. Sucka.

The following is a guide to the types of subway riders out there riding New York City’s public transit system:

The Susan Lucci Stunt Double

I'm a huge fan of public makeup application. Or at least watching it anyway. It makes me feel superior to the female gender. Misogyny is such an endearing quality, isn't it?

Hey, we all get pressed for time now and then, but is it really necessary to break out the compact mirror and makeup suitcase on the train? I've watched in horror as seemingly sane women applied eyeliner while on a moving subway. Are you fucking crazy?

For those not in the know, this involves a sharpened pencil being rubbed along the edges of your eyelids. The thought of women doing it while standing perfectly still freaks me out, nevermind while riding along in a hurtling subway car. Geezuz.

These women wave a sharpened coloring utensil millimeters from their pupils, thus placing their vision in the hands of a train operator who's probably been up for the last twenty-five hours. Who are these women getting ready for? I need to meet these guys. More to the point: I obviously need to learn from them.

The Wanderer

Where the hell are these people going? Particularly aggravating on a crowded subway, these explorers pass through each car with a purpose. I'm just not sure what that purpose is. Are they trying to maneuver themselves to the "dream door" that lets them out exactly in front of their station's exit? Hey pal, if your time is that valuable, why are you slumming it on the subway? Just stand in one place like the rest of us, you big douche bag.

The Humper

Excuse me, Sir? Yeah, you. Either quit hugging the pole or enjoy my Freaky Freezie-covered fist up your ass. What, was that harsh? Sorry, but I've never understood this phenomenon. It's as if this type of subway rider is about to strip down to their tatty-tassels and g-string and break into a Jessie Spano-inspired dance routine. It's bad enough that some fat bastard just threw himself into the last two remaining seats, but now I have to try and wriggle my hand between some guy's lumbar region and the pole? What a prick.

The Dyke

Oh relax all you Ellen DeGeneres lovers, I'm referring to the jackasses that can't bear to part with their coveted door spot on the subway. My solution to this has always been the no-look shoulder bump; blast the bastard and just keep walking. And that includes senior citizens. They're not exempt. Nothing delays a train more than some shithead clogging up the doorway just to keep his prime position.

Overtly Important Guy

Hey, King of Middle Management, no one cares that you saved the day by restoring the backup database to your company's Lotus Notes server this morning. Keep your voice down. The ride is miserable enough without you babbling to the world about your meaningless job. Tuck your Blackberry back into its holster. It can be found right next to the cell phone that’s clipped onto your belt, you gigantic loser.

The Reader

Just because your nose is buried in some grocery store romance novel doesn't mean you have reshuffling immunity. Pay attention, we're packed in like sardines here. Every nook and cranny needs to be efficiently utilized.

My personal favorite in this reader category is the exuberant newspaper reader. Spreading it out, refolding it over and over and over and just being a big fucking mav in general. Hey pal, the comics will still be there when you march to the crapper this afternoon with the same paper tucked under your arm. Spare us the nonsense.

Hey, pervert, quit hogging the pole
And don’t sleep on the over-the-shoulder reader either, who just can’t seem to put down…what YOU’RE reading. You can practically feel them leaning over trying to sneak a peek. Hey guy, I’m about to flip to the next page, you all caught up or do you want me to wait for you? You huge, annoying dickhead.

The Stealth Bomber

What kind of person farts in a subway car? A despicable one, that’s what kind. Get some self-control for Christ’s sake and squeeze it tight. We’re all trapped in this box together, and it ain’t no breeze-blown convertible. Remember when you were a tyke and that rumor started circulating there was this new chemical in pool water that would turn the water around you green if you took a pee? It was genius. All my swim pees were confined to the ocean from that day forward. I have to try and get a similar rumor circulating about farting on subways.

The Pusher

Oops, that's me. What, how do YOU get people to move? The phrase "excuse me" means about as much to New Yorkers as "thank you."

The Ghetto Blaster

How racially insensitive was this term from the 80s by the way? I loved it. Anyway, in this classification of annoying subway riders, I'm referring to the headphone wearer whose music is cranked so loud you can hear the lyrics. I especially like when this buffoon closes his or her eyes and grooves to the beat. It's as if they think everyone else is listening to the same song.

Yo asshole, here’s a suggestion: www.hearingaidsforidiots.com. I hear (pun absolutely intended) this is a great site and I have a feeling you'll be needing one soon.

The Snoozer

Hey, Sleeping Beauty, WAKE UP. I don't care if you killed your neighbor's dog with an ice pick and have been on the run from the cops for the past seventy-two hours like Dr. Richard Kimble. There's never an appropriate moment for a subway catnap. If you're falling asleep on a subway car, you need to either get a Sealy Posturepedic (who, by the way, has been getting away with that same creepy commercial for the past twenty years), or stop being homeless.

The Conspicuously Well-Dressed Beggar

Nothing like being asked for spare change by someone wearing Nike's, a new pair of corduroys, and toting a Louis Vuitton bag. Maybe I should drop my laptop and get in on this gig; there could be something to it. I know the market's turned around and consumer spending is up, but I think people are going overboard with what they're donating to Salvation Army. Sorry, I’m just pissed half my Christmas presents came from there for Christ's sake.

And while we're on the panhandling topic, I'd like to institute the "Uncle Mickey Rule." I had an Uncle Mickey that used to make me earn the dollar he gave me back when I was just a wee lad by slap-boxing with him. I really wish I wasn’t so cheap because I got clobbered scrapping for those measly dollar bills.

Similarly, I want panhandlers to earn their change. Sing a song, do a little tap-dance, or even a bad magic trick. I don't care. The whole "look at my disgusting and deformed foot that has gangrene and will eventually kill me" routine is played out. All I want is some show of effort, dammit.

The Musician

Attention: Every subway musician, except for the old guy with the accordion, CEASE and DESIST immediately. You stink.

The Mad Dasher

I LOVE this guy. Come on, you know what I'm talking about. The crud that practically gets down in his sprinter blocks as the train pulls in, and then explodes into the car before people even have a chance to exit. All so he can get a seat. Is it possible that this just might be the height of laziness?

Drop your payload somewhere else, you slob
Seriously, the average rider's time spent in a subway car is probably twenty minutes. If you can't stand for that long, you gots issues. It's no wonder you have high blood pressure, a date with diabetes and cholesterol seeping from your ears. You're the laziest bastard on earth.

Do I seem pissed? Good, because I am. I guess that means my eighth grade creative writing teacher was wrong: I CAN effectively convey my thoughts via the written word. Take that you bitch. I always knew she was just pissed that I wouldn't sleep with her, this confirms it. What? Hey, I wouldn't lie to you, I was mature and charming well beyond my years. (Too bad I peaked the following year and have sexually derailed since then, but that's not relevant here. Let's stay focused.)

Well, now you know what the average New Yorker deals with on a daily basis.

Godspeed

Just want to take this moment to say what's up to H.B.E. who will be embarking on his Bachelor's Party Excursion this weekend....sounds like a good time is in store for our red-headed comrade. Bring plenty o'bail money, my friend; you are traveling w/a motley crew.

NUFF SAID