Saturday, April 16, 2011

Why Working in the City is Not for Me

Sorry for not writing lately. I have been hit with a bug that won’t go away. I sneeze every ten seconds and look like  I got punched in the face. But alas, I will make myself update today.

Stephanie was the only one to correctly guess 8 out of the 10 movie quotes. For that, she wins a prize!!!!

I recently dragged my ass to New York City. Or just “The City” if you’re from Long Island. I was reminded why I hate the city. Putting aside that it was pouring and I was sick; the main focus of my hatred is people on the train. For those unfamiliar with the LIRR, let me set you up with a mental image:

I drive to the train station and have to park 2 miles from it because the parking lot is full. Some decide to park on the grass and risk getting a ticket. By risk I mean, there is a 100% chance they will get a ticket. Any cop that needs to fill their ticket quote only needs to go to a train station twice a day. Anyway, I run to the ticket booth and buy a round trip peak ticket. This sets me back $32. Now I don’t really consider myself ancient by any means, but it really feels like just yesterday when a roundtrip ticket was $20.

 Anyway, I sit in the heated ticket office awaiting my train with some unique characters. The overworked fireman coming off a late night shift who is eating a McDonald’s hamburger and pretending to care about his kids while on the phone with his wife. The always-present semi-homeless black man who is wearing JNCO jeans with an aggressive dragon on the back pocket. He also happens to be listening to a cassette player and singing (rather loudly) along with it.

The two women who are DYING without their Starbucks because let’s face, what other coffee is there? (FYI, a Dunkin Donuts is a mere two feet away). They are obviously going into the city to spend their husband’s hard earned cash on a pair of stylish lavender trousers and a matching jacket. Off to the side is the super gay business man who just doesn’t understand how his assistant could be telling him he has a meeting this afternoon on such late notice.

That about rounded up all the players in the ticket office that morning. As I try and read my Sandra Brown novel my attention is drawn to the man who thinks waiting outside in the pouring rain somehow shows off how masculine he is. But the flowered umbrella was there to smother that idea and I am reminded he is just stupid and now…wet.

The train is nice when you are the first ones on it. You get your choice of seats (not near the bathroom thank you) and for at least two stops you probably won’t have anyone sitting next to you. This euphoria begins to fade as soon as the train stops in Brentwood. Then shit starts getting tight and all the assholes who think chatting on their cell phones while in close proximity to others is enjoyable emerge. The rest of the hour and change ride is me turning up my Ipod and wishing the shitpea behind would stop telling his mom how good she looks in purple.

The city itself is always the same. People running you over because their late to Pilates or AA. Stepping in dog shit and gum. Homeless people coming up to you and claiming their preggers and need money to nourish their baby. Should have thought of that before you got pregnant. No money for you! People who don't speak English trying to tell you they sell "cheap stuff." Packs of Asian tourists who want to videotape their child in front of a bum sleeping on a bench. The usual.

The upside to this trip? Bubba Gump Shrimp! After a short wait I am led to my table and given my alcoholic strawberry lemonade and super hot Cajun shrimp with a roll of paper towels. I was in heaven. Followed by a short stop to Coldstone, the day had gotten better. Except for the dreaded train ride home.

I fully respect those that commute to the city for their jobs. Either these fools are so dedicated to bringing in the money for their family or else they actually enjoy the city. If it is the latter, they’re out of their damn mind.

The train ride home was more of the same. Except this time you don’t get first pick of seats and you have to squash in between two gargantuan women who believe a 3 seater is meant to accommodate just the two of them. Um..a 3 seater is for 3 people. Not 2 women who have exceptionally large asses. MOVE OVER!

I got lucky and got seated right across from the bathroom. If I wasn’t feeling sick before, this definitely was a killer. I don’t know how anyone can poop in a public place much less an LIRR restroom where the doors barely shut. But people do. And I hate those people.

Once back at the train station, I start my hike back to my car which is parked in Guam. It starts raining again. God, I hate the city.

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