So tonight I decided to give public transit a rest and walk and here’s what happened. I discovered that if there’s desperation out there, it will find me. Last night, I was the studious `ho of last resort for a guy who clearly didn’t think he had any other option anywhere in any borough. And tonight I was the target of every Mitzvah Tank trying to woo folks back into the fold with some Chanukah tchotchke. Admittedly, the guys didn’t really give me their hardest sell, but I am grateful that - while doing the limbo under the extended arm of the guy offering me candles - I managed to avoid being hit by a car driven by a dude who looked like he had actually forgotten that he was behind the wheel of a 2 ton killing machine, rather than just speeding around in a comfortable, albeit moving, chair for him to fire off a few texts. Tomorrow: I ride a wheelbarrow to work.
Just waiting for the BX19 (aka Godot) and an already drunk guy drinking a completely visible 40 solicits me with this choice line: “Yo you want to come home with me? I’ve got a library in my place. You look like the type that likes a library. Seriously though, it’s huge. My library. And my dick.” The End.
It’s been a lot of years since buses gave out paper transfers. But not according to the woman in front of me who cursed out the bus driver for dickscrimating (sic) against her. The driver calmly explained the transfer is built into her Metrocard. She claims he “f*ked not just my day but the year.” Monday is off to a bang up start.
Nothing says holiday season like waking up on the Sunday after a 3 day food coma - having dreamed that you had just completed the most amazing run of your life - only to discover that your pajama pants have become tight enough to cut off the circulation to your legs.
Not-so-live blog of the Thanksgiving parade as seen on TV: 1) Dear CBS, Bad anchor banter and positioning said bad anchors in back of some really thin foliage does not make you NBC but does highlight the terrible programming to come nicely 2) Shouldn’t it be obvious that musical theater doesn’t belong in a parade? (See: theater) 3) There’s a musical called First Date. And it would seem to be a godawful as its subject matter usually is 4) Unfamiliar teen stars lip-synching while standing next to grown men dressed as acorns 5) Two actors who are well into their 30s singing “I am 16 going on 17” while dressed in lederhosen. 7) Matt Lauer and Al Roker sporting November beards that make them look like homeless men 8) The End (at least until the booze and food kicks in)
You know that feeling you get when you accidentally step in your trash can and spend a few seconds walking around like a one-legged pirate. What I’m trying to say is, we’ve all been there.
Last night’s commute featured a trifecta of weirdness: a white dude with a boil on his neck rapping the only line he seemed to remember from “Empire State of Mind;” a woman who looked like Hatchet-Face in see-through stretch pants who polished off a packet of Violets between 72nd and 86th streets; and an enormous drunk dude who looked like Stellan Skarsgaard and said “bien sur” to anyone within ear shot (me) while bitching about how the Canadiens have “blown up” the French language. And then we got stuck in the tunnel and all the weirdos and I had panic attacks. But tonight on the 1 train, there was a guy dressed like a Renaissance faire varmint playing a song on the mandolin about “tra-tra-travelin’ as ye go.” All in all, a banner 48 hours.
I learned a couple of things so far today: 1) The iPhone 5c has essentially no battery life 2) My camera phone is ruled by Murphy’s Law 3) There is a street philosopher around the Flatiron district who calls himself Just Naked Guy. Maybe street philosopher is too much. Maybe a guy who calls himself Just Naked Guy who happens to be strolling around the area right now. If you see him take a picture for me (see above).
Blood sugar crash while waiting behind 1000 people buying all their Thanksgiving day fixings. What else could I do but tear wild bear style into the chocolate covered figs that just happened to be directly to my left and that I later learned cost about as much as a complete meal. It was that or blow into the boxes of Emergen-C like some health conscious Tony Montana. I am confident that I made a sound and delicious choice.