I boarded my 5:35 a.m. bus to the city and about :15 minutes into my ride the woman sitting in front of me lurched her seat back in a violent manner and cracked me in the knee caps. This is an almost (twice) daily occurrence.
We turned off the Garden State Parkway onto the New Jersey Turnpike and the guy sitting next to me suddenly yells out, loud enough for everyone on the bus to hear, “Look. I don’t mind if you use your little computer but you’re MOVING AROUND TOO MUCH. You touched my arm, LIKE, 20 TIMES!” I know what you’re picturing. You’re picturing a milquetoast pencil pushing desk jockey with thick-lensed glasses. A whiny little bitch. But you’re wrong. This was a hulking construction worker with arms like pythons. So I kept my mouth shut and didn’t move a muscle for the remainder of the ride. Hell yeah, I did.
I was stewing in my juices when I left Port Authority, wasn’t watching where I was going and I STEPPED IN VOMIT. That’s right. Some parts of New York are still olde style New York. I stepped in vomit. It used to happen more frequently.
Then I was walking up Madison Avenue at 44th Street and a jogger passed by who wasn’t wearing any shoes. Running barefoot in Manhattan! What a madman! I turned to look at the soles of his feet as he ran by and they were BLACK. No amount of scrubbing would ever get them clean enough for me. This is just minutes after I stepped in vomit and I suddenly imagined it squishing up between my toes. Retch, I did. The very next morning I saw him again and I tried to whip out my cell phone but he was too fast. Now I walk with my cell phone in my hand and the camera on when I walk that stretch of Madison.
We received the following company-wide email at work:
“The NYC OEM (Office of Emergency Management) has reported that several aircraft will be flying at a very low altitude in the vicinity of the Statue of Liberty and Battery Park at approximately 11:00 a.m. today. This is a planned event that is part of the Fleet Week celebration. There is no cause for alarm.”
My, goodness. It’s been 10 years and this town is still fucked-up over 9/11. Tell me, London, were you still in a nervous state of mind 10 years after the Blitz of 1941? I’ll bet not. I mean no disrespect but it’s time to move on.