LIRR drama!

Seriously?

What’s with the right wing conspiracy that apparently overcomes every conductor that my monthly pass is fake?

I took a risk sitting in a four-seater, and I almost lost. Some May- December couple sat to my left and in front of me, petting each other’s knees. Kind of awkward when all four people’s knees are touching to begin with.

Also, this girl who moved, who then saved me from the insanity, was chatting on her phone. No sound coming from her mouth, but her mouth was over annuniciating every word like she was a crazed cheerleader. I don’t see the point in that, much like those who cover their mouths when chatting on their cells. I can still hear you!

Hmm.

No one is on this train, yet the dude who just got on felt the need to sit next to the only other passenger on here.

…Secret lovers!

Rain ruins commutes

Trains messed up this morning, one this afternoon was 57 minutes late and now some crazy old man with a cane is wandering the car complaining for go apparent reason. Awesome.

I wish I could record the audio of the dude next to me snoring. It is the most god awful sound ever created by man.

A boring commute

Riding on public transportation, you’re bound to interact with a bunch of interesting people. And by interesting, I mean slightly unnerving. I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff, including some old dude’s balls, thanks to a pair of inappropriate jogging shorts.

I used to ride a train with a guy who I could not sit behind because I’d (no lie) get seasick. He was this huge bald guy who had some kind of nervous tick where he’d constantly be in motion, swaying back and forth in his seat. He was so tall, even ducking down into my seat didn’t help. I had to switch cars or sit in front of him. In conclusion, thank you, sweet baby Jesus, for the days that are just plain old normal.

"Old people are dumb" day

If you’ve never taken the LIRR, perhaps you’re not aware of the exiting habit of its passengers: Stand up in the vestibule, and then flood into the aisles no more than one stop previous to your exit.

On the way into the city, I think this unspoken practice makes sense. You want to beat the crowd up the stairs to get the hell to work. But on the way home, who are you trying to compete against? Your all-time best train to car ignition time?

Anyway, this morning, old man river stands up while I’m in the aisle. Thinking to myself that this man is old, may have bravely served our country in yesteryear, or has a faulty bladder, I let him cut ahead of me.

He does NOT say thank you. This (slightenly) angers me.

His briefcase strap gets caught on the armrest of his seat as he walks by, and he continues to be tethered to it, like a dog on a chain who doesn’t get that he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

So, I be nice, AGAIN, and remove it. He, once again, does not say thank you. I hate him.

In conclusion, don’t help old people on trains. However, when you see a group of 20+ of them in sparkly, snug red and gold uniforms filing down into the subway, you wish you weren’t going to get run over by 8th Avenue traffic to snap a iPhone pic of it for your blog.

1. I don’t understand why popcorn is a “train food.”

2. I don’t get why people feel the need to take over conductor duties and touch things like door locks to better signify to their fellow passengers that they’re a “train veteran.”

3. Don’t understand why people choose to sit in those six seaters when they KNOW they will just be on top of the lawyer across from them.

Are you new?!

A guy that I saw all the way back at Jamaica appears next to me on the subway platform. He gets there 10 minutes after I do, so either he’s the slowest walker of all time or I don’t know what, because he’s well over six feet tall, and can make bigger strides than most, so what the hell?

Then, he looks up at the sign, and walks down the stairs to head downtown. Then, he walks back up, seemingly thinking better of it, to stay uptown.

He hangs out for awhile, and then does the same dance at least twice more.

Once again, I ask, “ARE YOU NEW?!”