Friday, August 10th

Chilly, grey, rain.

69 degrees.

10 am.

Let me preface this by stating that New Yorkers in the rain wielding umbrellas are as dangerous as LA drivers in the rain.

N: A train pulled into the station as I started up the stairs. I attempted to run up the stairs to catch the train, but was trapped by slow walkers. I tried to verbally and physically make my way around them, but the one old lady wouldn't budge from her set course on the right side of the staircase and the young, hungover couple monopolized the entire left side of the staircase.

Who are these people, why are they in no hurry to catch a train mere feet from them, and how come they are so rude they won't let anyone else try to make the train? Don't they get that little push inside of them to move faster as they are overwhelmed by the deafening brake screeches overhead? Do they weigh their options at the fourth stair and seriously decide, "Well, I could move a little faster and make this train, but seeing as I have nothing to do, I'll just keep at the same 1 mph pace and wait 15 minutes for the next train."

Good thing it was an express train and blew right by us. While I waited, I avoided getting my eyes removed with aluminum-capped nubs by many passing commuters' golf umbrellas. After a drenching (and harrowing) ten minutes, a W rolled through.

At QB Plaza, I had no qualms about checking three small Indian men who barged onto the N the second the doors opened and smashed into me. As I held my elbow steady and ran it along their ribs, I wrote them a letter in my head:

Dear Sirs,

If you don't let the people off, you're going to get an elbow in the ribs, and no amount of yelling "Bitchface!" is going to make the slightest bit of difference until you learn this simple rule.

Cordially,
Bitchface

7: Fine ride. Some 40-year-old with wire-rimmed glasses bumped into me on the way out the door, without recognition, in order to be the first to go down the stairs. But, instead of stealthily gliding down the stairs he so desperately wanted to be the leader of, he walked down slowly, clogging up the entire staircase! I couldn't believe it: another slow walker!

I took a deep breath, and scooted by him out the turn styles.

G: Got a seat, read in "Running with Scissors," laughed out loud and got off without incident.


GOING HOME:
At 5pm, I caught the B to 34th Street, bought a hoodie at Old Navy because it was about 25 degrees colder than I had prepared for, met up with friends outside Times Square, popped on the F to Delancy for my boss's birthday in the LES, walked over to the uptown B at Broadway/Lafayette for my boo's comedy show, then, we caught the N home.