Friday, March 28, 2008


Well, I finally made it through to the other side from my week-long trek thru the concrete jungle of New York City.

Don’t get me wrong…. I like New York City. Hell, I LOVE New York City!

I just don’t ever want to have to go to work EVERY DAY in New York City ever again.

I did that commute all the way from out on Long Island to Wall Street for over a year, back in the 90’s. I HATED it! My normally cheery mood would slowly get whittled away as each day of the week dragged on, until by Friday, I would be a right bastard.

This week brought that shitty feeling right back to me like it was just yesterday.

I knew I was in for trouble right on the first day….

I got to the Long Island Railroad when it was still dark out, and sleepily stumbled to my seat. Much to my glee, I thought I had my row of seats on the train all to myself, so I could spread out and relax.

That thought got squashed quickly when suddenly a heavyset guy squeezed himself next to me. I could barely move!

Already aggravated, I decided to try to get some sleep while heading to the Big Apple.

Imagine my surprise when, 20 min into the trip, the guy taps me on the shoulder and says, “Hey, you don’t remember me, do you?”.

And after a second or two of giving him a good looking-over, I did.

His name was Fabio, and I used to work with him a loooong time ago. Never really liked him, either.

In case any of you care WHY I don’t really care for this gentlemen, let me try to explain it politely….

While at work one day, this fine gentlemen once found himself in some form of intestinal distress, and, oh how can I put this gently? He ended up......


Are you kidding me? What is he, an infant? Who does that?

Then, about 6 months later, HE DID IT AGAIN! Shortly thereafter, unable to handle the whispering and pointing behind his back, he quit in shame.

And now I was sharing a seat with him! Dandy!

While I was spending my time divided between pretending to listen to him, and watching his rear-end for signs of any explosions, 3 young teenagers proceed to get on the train.

These 3 upstanding young urban youths were all wearing ski-parkas and surgical masks strapped to their forehead.

Wait, what?

Yeah, I didn’t get it either. Maybe it’s a new “gangsta” thing.

Anyway, they proceeded to scream at each other and yell out some pretty vile shit for the remainder of the trip. I guess they were trying to intimidate the rest of the passengers. I honestly felt like I had walked into “A Clockwork Orange”.

After finally getting to Penn Station, and breaking free from my crappy friend, I bolted to the subway to take me downtown.

While on the subway, I got the following text message from a phone number I didn’t recognize:

“Hey, I need my sweatpants!”

I had no idea who this was, so I sent back:

"Who is this?”


Now I don’t know any Danielle, but at this point I was already aggravated enough to carry me thru for the rest of the week, so I decided to try to at least get a chuckle from wherever I could get it, so the following text messaging conversation proceeded to take place.

“I don’t know any Danielle. U have the wrong #”


“No, I’m not mom”

“Where’s my mother?”

“Maybe with your father”

“Seriously, I need my fucking sweatpants”

“Ouch! Nice language to give to your mother. No wonder why she doesn’t want to talk to you”

“Can I talk to her?”

“No… she said she wants to disown you”


“What do you think? Would I lie to you?”

“Tell her I need my sweatpants!”

“What do you need them for?”

“I have soccer practice! This isn’t funny!”

“Oh I think it’s hysterical. So does mom.”

“C’mon! All I need is my pants for soccer”

“Just pants? What kind of sick-ass soccer game is THIS?”

“Ha-ha! Very fucking funny! Let me speak to my mom!”

“This must be the soccer league for gifted kids. Your mom isn’t here, dimwit”

“Where did she go?”

“She just left. She said that she couldn’t face having a daughter who played soccer topless”

“I’m gonna be late!”

“Better run then!”

“Fuck you!”

“Mom says hi!”

This went on for pretty much the entire subway ride, until the girl actually called me to curse and scream at me. She sounded like she was about 18.

I told her she had to call back; I was busy doing her mom and I didn’t have a free hand for the phone because her mom likes me to pull her hair while I’m spanking her.

Then I hung up.

What can I say? I need to get my laughs wherever I can.

It was not even 9A.M. yet of my first day in Manhattan. It was a LOONG week.

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