Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Dear Fellow Subway Rider

As we were being disgorged from an exceptionally crowded W train today, where, exactly, did you expect me to go? Your piqued "Well, excuse me" protestation actually made me look around with a quizzical "Who the fuck is she talking to?" expression. I mean, we were being herded by forces of nature and humanity out of the train, onto the platform and up the stairs. Oh, pardon me ... I must have forgotten that you are, by all means, waaaayyyy more important than ANYONE ELSE IN THIS SUBWAY CAR. And the way you shoved to the front of the pack to go through those annoying turnstiles, that was pricelesss. I guess you showed the rest of us. I can only hope that as you were stalking self-righteously up Sixth Avenue, a passing cab darted through one of those gargantuan pond-size slush-puddles and splashed the ever-lovin' shit out of you.


Everyday Goddess said...

Bitch. Her not you I mean.

Marinka said...

I could have written the same whine, but about the F line. There's always someone who, by the urgency with which they need to get on the train, appear to be in a middle of a critical operation. Like maybe they're transporting a live organ.