<pause>… You’ll either be eternally grateful, or on the brink of suicide with what I’m about to say…
For the time being, I am over posting stupid selfies at the start of my posts. OVER IT.
Instead, I’ll reserve them ONLY for when I look exceptionally, yet effortlessly gorgeous or highly unattractive-(those will be few and far between).
YOU. ARE WELCOME.
So, Jonas unloaded 26″ of snow on us over the weekend. I was expecting a light dusting, as news tends to over-hype and dramatize a rain droplet, but I was pleasantly surprised when it hit HARRRRDDDD.
While most of the day was uneventful, HB and I ventured outside to get some fresh air, and hop around in the powder before it turned into a brown, murky slush of shit the next day…
HB found out the hard way.
If you can’t relate to the joys of riding public transportation after a blizzard, feel free to peace. Otherwise…read on, my friends.
I’d like to tell you about my worst subway riding experience to date.
We’ll take it back to yesterday (Monday).
Side Note: I still haul ass to South Brooklyn to workout once/week. It’s ending soon because the commute is dog shit….and with that, I give you
My Worst Subway Riding Experience To Date.
Let me paint the picture…
After sweating bullets for an hour (awesome), I had to quickly layer-up to head back outside for my walk to the subway. Because I didn’t have sufficient time to cool down, I was stifled by everything I just spent 5 minutes putting on. Fuck that noise. Took off my gloves and unzipped my coat for some relief.
Things are going pretty good. Wafts of chilly, 30 degree air sneak into my jacket, and cool me down right. Most of the sidewalks are plowed, and I’m making good time – enough to get me home, showered, and fed before my 11:30am client.
I get to the subway in 8 minutes. I wait.
10, 15, almost 20 minutes pass, and still no N train.
FINALLY. N train pulls up. It’s jammed-like peoples cheeks and asses are pressed up agains the windows, jammed. I think “okay, fine, most of them will be getting off here, so it’s cool.”
The doors open. NOT a mother fucking soul exits.
I am getting on this train.
I burry my way in and am welcomed with the most appalling stench. I look to my left in search of the guilty party (cough cough, homeless person, cough cough). Nope, not coming from there. Then I look right, where there are BENCHES of open seating and a grocery cart piled from floor to ceiling.
That’s where it’s coming from. Despite being at least 20 feet away from this cloud of stank, it manages to still smell like someone just took 75 shits in front of me.
I legit thought I was going to puke, so instead, I did that rude shit people do when it smells, and put my sweatshirt over my mouth and nose. (important information: EVERYONE was doing it. I was not alone in my “rudeness”).
Normally, in a situation such as this, I would change cars next stop – only the next stop wasn’t until we crossed the bridge and got back into the city – code for: 20 minutes later, since the train decided to stop every 4″.
So, I was forced the bear down and inhale my sweaty chest, that mildly smelled of the vanilla, grapefruit body spray I douse myself in before I workout. (I’m including a link so you can all buy some).
We finally get to Canal – YAY! It’s 10:49 – mind you, I’ve already been waiting for/on the train for 40 minutes. I switch cars, and appreciate the Drakkar noir I am now happily inhaling through my nostrils. Okay, things are looking up…
Then all of the sudden the next stop happens to be Broadway – WHAAATTT?!
The N train just decided to turn into an M train. THEFUCK, man?!?
Not the end of the world, but REALLY? REALLY?!?…I get off the subway, have to walk an extra 5 minutes, and finally walk through the door with 15 minutes to spare – enough time to make myself a smoothie, guzzle it and be ready to teach for 6 hours.
It doesn’t end there. After I taught, I ran home, showered, and went back the SAME SUBWAY station to head BACK to Brooklyn (but for some fun). Waited at least 15 minutes on the platform before the (again) slammed subway car showed up- I’m talking backpacks, cheeks, asses- you name it– were up against the glass-slammed! AGAIN, I had to burry myself into a sea of people, and bear down for 35 minutes…
…But at least it didn’t smell like a shitnado, I was with my friend, and welcomed with pink champagne once I got to my destination.
Moral of the story:
1). There’s always an upside, and
2). TAKE AN UBER HOME
It’s been real.