Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Nice never wins
So I was on the subway in New York heading to catch a train back to Po'town. I get off the N and walk over to catch the 4.
The gate's over the entrance.
I look for another.
Locked up. I just stand there for a second ... truly truly confused. How can they lock up the whole green line? How the hell was I supposed to get uptown? You know, up here in the sticks if they block off a street you at least get a detour sign.
The best part is that others walk up, see that it's closed, and just keep walking like it's no biggie.
What?? How is that OK?
Fine. There are other connections, right? But really ... I'll be goddamned if I have to ask for help. I am a self-respecting stubborn bastard who was desperately trying NOT to look like a tourist.
I knew the Red line goes up to Times Square and there's a shuttle to Grand Central ... or I could get back on the N and switch to the 4 at Union Square. So I do a twirly dance between the two. I figure the N is better, but I was JUST ON the N.
I felt so silly going back. Like "Hi, just kidding! Can I get back on?"
I swallow my silly thoughts and jog to the platform. I'd killed enough time standing like a retarded person.
So I make it to the 4 ... just in time ... and shoot up to 42nd Street with 2 minutes to spare. I jump off the subway car, bound up the stairs ... racing through the terminal knocking over man, woman, child and animal alike. Especially the animals.
I approach the train just in time ... I'm only steps away when a guy walks in front of me and drops a ticket in his wake. I stare down at his ticket ... look up at my train ... glance to my right as he walks quickly away.
A bold, all too familiar voice on my shoulder sneers, "Screw 'em, man's a dope, get on your train. That'll teach him to drop things. Stupid dropper man."
Then the meek ... somewhat dusty voice on my right whines, "Stenny .... Stennnnnnyyyy. Just pick up the ticket. You'll still make the train. Take a minute to do the right thing for once."
Crap crap. Crap.
I scoop up the ticket and make a mad dash for that dopey-dropping disappearing figure. And I mean mad dash. I looked like a crazy person. Which is probably a step down from the retarded Sten at the subway earlier.
"EXCUSE ME! WAIT!" I yell at dopey man. He turns around, confused ... I shove the ticket at him. Dopey looks at it, smiles and in a cute British accent that was completely wasted on me says "Oh wow, thank you luv!"
I give him my best annoyed New Yorker stare, turn around and run away. Stupid tourists.
Back to the train platform I go ... train is still there ... sweet ... wait .... am I running slower or is it moving???
Crap. The damn thing pulls away just as I get there. Stupid subway. Stupid tourists. Stupid dusty voice.
I walk away to find a cup of coffee and a corner to throw up in.
Moral of this story? If you plan on doing something nice, bring an ice pack and a book with you ... cause all you're gonna get in return is an hour wait and a swift kick in the ass.