seriously mta? i hope you realize that if i don’t have a job, i can’t afford to pay you.
you don’t know what hate is until you ride the nyc subway every day. people take the subway not because it’s by choice but because they either live too far to walk and/or refuse to take the bus. a true new yorker does not take the bus. why, you must ask? because we just don’t. there are a few exceptions, for instance, if you’re trying to cross town, if you live in whitestone, you’re a senior citizen, or you’re additionally fcked over by those service changes you never pay attention to.
i leave at the same time every day, but i will somehow manage to be late not because it’s my fault, but because of the fcking train. the most painful/annoying/frustrating part of it all is when i’m only a minute late. i work in a law firm so my hours are measured by 7 minute intervals. so if i come in at 9:38 AM instead of 9:37 AM, i’m 15 minutes late. every time that 1 minute jumps to 15, a part of me dies a little inside.
my day starts off with an alarm that sounds equivalent to an hour of incessant nagging. like a pimp cutting a hoe, i slap my snooze button multiple times until i can’t slap it anymore. there’s no one to impress at work, so at most it will take me 15 minutes to get ready. faster than the time most guys take to do their hair.
after the successful completion of my daily obstacle course of dodging dog sht that their fcktarded owners don’t clean up after and my daily doses of “3 minute sunlight” and polluted air, i enter the box of death.
the mta stations look and feel like you’re entering a gas chamber. it’s fcking horrible especially in the summer. you’re standing there waiting for a train that likes to come whenever it wants, suffocating in a thick humid cloud of sweat, rat poison, diseases, and other fun things with barely any room between you and the person next, front, and behind you. we’re all stuck crowded in this hell hole with the promise of an AC’ed train. very rarely there will be 1 or 2 “what a beautiful day. i love life!” people standing next to you, but you know they’re most likely a tourist so you learn to ignore them.
you would think the torture would end there. but nope, it gets worse.
when you enter the subway car you will almost always come across one of these types of people:
there’s that one really obese person who takes up more than two seats. their rolls of fat just spills over to the seat next to them like spilled cake batter. even when the seat next to their rolls is open, you don’t want to sit there because they possess the ultimate combination of foul attitude and body odor.
then there’s those people who are so hypnotized by their electronics they lose all sense of reality. if they take their eyes off their device for a second, they’ll lose their high. don’t fck with them.
you have to watch out because if you didn’t know, these addicts are violent people. while binging on their high, they will step on your shoes, bump into you, and will not let you off/enter the train. they will also walk down the stairs at the speed of a child learning how to walk and make you miss your train.
if you don’t possess the prime real estate (the two corners by the doors) you can either fall on your face/stranger or find a metal bar to hold onto. but once in a while you will find one of these fckers standing right behind/next/in front of you. go ahead, make all the eye contact you want. you can also try to grip the pole closest to their point of vision. but yet these fckers will not get the fcking clue. only after voicing “excuse me” out of the built-up frustration, will they stare at you like you did something wrong by smacking them in the head with common sense.
if you live near the first/last stop of the train, you’ll be lucky enough to get a seat. as you snuggle into the hard plastic chair sat on by hundreds of people, you’ll look around and find some relief that the coast is clear of fatty mcfattys, smelly bums, crying babies, disobedient children, and random appearances of singing people asking for money. the man/woman sitting next to you doesn’t smell and you start to think “hey, maybe today will be a normal day.” well, guess again.
a peek-a-reader is not a cute pokemon. they are sneaky little elves disguised as normal people who possess the same abilities as a possessive/suspicious girlfriend/boyfriend. whatever you are reading/doing, they will just peek-a-glance. sometimes they don’t even realize that they’re doing it until they realize they are breathing closer and closer to your face. to ward off a peek-a-reader, one must occasionally throw back a glare of discomfort, silently relaying the message of “get your own fcking newspaper/book/phone and mind your fcking business”.
exiting the train isn’t any easier. once you reach your stop, all of the men and women by the exit become professional football players forming a defensive line at the end zone. on top of that, you have those people who lack the etiquette of letting people off the train before boarding. after much resistance, i finally get to exit the train, feeling like a newborn baby who just exited the womb.
ah, the journey does not end there. finally after waddling through the crowds of people, a gleam of light will shine down on the escalator of frustration.
there’s an unspoken rule that applies to escalators. if you want to stay stationary stand on your right. if you’re going to stay in the left then learn how to fcking walk. i hate people who decide that after walking halfway they’re just going to stop and stand there. what’s even worse is that you’re put in a compromising situation where there’s too many witnesses standing on the right. if you say something to the douchebag in front of you, you’ll look like an asshole so all you can do is stand behind him/her hoping that they’ll walk or if they still decide to just stand there, you’ll begin harnessing some pent-up anger and frustration on top of all the sht you just went through to get to this point.
after all the struggle, finally, i reach my destination. it wouldn’t be so bad if i was greeted by cute little puppies and pints full of ice cream. nope. instead i’m just returning to the daily grind, sitting behind my computer screen, typing away only to repeat tomorrow.