« previous | main | next »
the boogie-down carnivale
Highly Edited Version:
1. I’m starting to wonder if I’m still drunk from last night’s multiple margaritas.
2. I really just wanted to read my book. David Sedaris makes me laugh.
3. OH. MY. GOD. WHAT IS HANGING OUT OF HIS PANTS?
4. I have never been so happy to get to work.
Extended Version:
At 7:30 this morning, when the subway is typically and rightfully sleeping, it was more like a three-ring circus. Some full moon must have been blooming somewhere, because all of the nuts had been hatched out of the cages just to join me on my morning commute.
I was about to settle in with my small creamed and sugar-ed coffee with Snarkin’ Sedaris on my lap when I noticed a tall woman with about three teeth, a stubbed out cigarette, hair in every direction and pregnant standing in front of me. She was yammering about this or that, while her two male friends sat down across from me – I’ll call them Drunk and Drunker. Drunk was yelling to Drunker ‘You’d better shut your trap and stop bumping into that lady or she’s going to beat you up!’ The lady? He wasn’t bumping into anyone that I could see. Drunker, meanwhile, sat in his seat saying ‘My name is Permanent. I like your smile,’ over and over and over again. The conductor, a woman in her early thirties, apparently noticed the commotion and popped her head into the car, saying to Drunker ‘I bet your wife wishes you’d shut up, too’, to which the lady with three teeth responded ‘Yeah, shut yersself.’
I’m just getting started.
A guy, stacked like a house, gets on and sits down next to Drunker. Drunker pokes him in the arm, and I brace myself for the inevitability of the guy getting slugged – this guy is no mama’s boy – but he instead says in that uber-thick outer-borough accent that always gets my attention ‘It’s too early man. Too damn early,’ tilts his cap down over his eyes, slings his backpack around his ankle, and nestles in for a nap. Drunker is not amused, and pokes him three more times. ‘I told you man; it’s too damn early. Stop with the poking.’ Drunker responds ‘My name is Permanent. I like your smile’ and pokes him a few more times. This goes on for a few more rounds, until Stacked Guy shoves him, sending him flying nearly halfway down the car. He regains his previously precarious balance, and starts back in Stacked Guy’s direction, only to stop short at the nearest seat to pass out.
I’m starting to wonder if I’m still drunk from last night’s multiple margaritas.
Two girls with high ponytails, made-up faces, large hoop earrings, unbelievably tight tank tops, sloppy sweatpants and sneakers with – you guessed it – no laces stare with dropped jaws, gum nearly falling out of their mouths. The short kid next to them is trying to adjust his ipod with a sketchbook open on his lap drawing what appear to be grizzlies; he too can’t avert his eyes. The woman next to me is laughing the whole time, nudging me as if this is some sort of bonding experience.
I really just wanted to read my book. David Sedaris makes me laugh.
Drunk and the woman with three teeth finally get to their stop, drag Drunker up from his slumber, and depart. You can practically hear the train’s sigh of relief, but before I had a moment to reopen my book, Drunker comes through from the next car, zipping up, apparently having, um, relived himself between the cars. He stops mid-zip to announce, of course, ‘My name is Permanent. I like your smile’ and OH. MY. GOD. WHAT IS HANGING OUT OF HIS PANTS? Stacked Guy looks pissed he didn’t hit him harder.
Note to self: Switch to decaf.
It’s an honest-to-god circus; I’m starting to look out for unicycles, elephant dung, anything but looking at Drunker and OHMYGODHEHAESTILLHASNOTZIPPEDHIMSELF. At that very moment, like thinking it could make it so, a man walks in from the other car playing an accordion. Did I call it or what? Bring on the trapeze! Bring on the midgets! Accordian Man is making his way across the car, step-whewhwhwhw-step-whewhewhwhwh-step-THWACK! He smacks into the pole, buffered by his instrument. He’s blind. It’s a BLIND ACCORDIONIST. I have to repeat this to myself so I don’t start laughing, it’s so wrong, but you realize there are at least four vertical poles in the center aisle of a train, and he isn’t missing a single one. Step-whewhwh-step-THWACK!, Step-whewhwh-step-THWACK!…
He’s almost at the other end of the train, almost where Drunker is still standing with his zipper open repeating ‘My name is Permanent. I like your smile,’ almost drowned out by the whewhwhs and THWACKS! and as I dread what will happen when he eventually runs into Drunker, my stop arrives.
I have never been so happy to get to work.
comments (18)
Ah, the joys and mysteries of public transportation!
1 | Wendy | June 4, 2004 11:20 AM
See, Deb, when we asked you what happened on your way to work this morning, we meant, did anything OUT OF THE ORDINARY occur? We were not talking about any of the usual and customary early-morning craziness involving life within the madhouse on wheels known as the MTA, of which the Big Bad City is observing the 100th anniversary this very year of 2004 CE. But a pregnant woman with three teeth? I woulda paid more than the $2 fare to see that. And maybe you could cab it home tonight as a special reward for yourself.
2 | Michael | June 4, 2004 11:23 AM
A few weeks ago, in the park, a man wearing a clearly homemade cloth helmet pulled down his sweatpants and waved it at me. I have also witnessed a man peeing freely all over the seats on the F train. These are the New York stories I don't share with my mother.
3 | Amber | June 4, 2004 11:30 AM
Oh, this is fabulous! More, please...
Living vicariously through you city slickers here in the land of hillbillies, moon pies and sweet tea,
--otter
4 | otter | June 4, 2004 11:34 AM
I must thank you for introducing some laughter into my day. Seriously.
Last night I got on the train on my way to see a friend's art opening, and who should get on right in front of me but the infamous dumper I posted about yesterday. Yeah, nifty. On my way back from the opening, I took the same train line and couldn't help but notice that it was a major FREAK SHOW. I might have held my breath all the way home.
Is there something to this full moon thing? I think so.
5 | Miss Kat | June 4, 2004 11:40 AM
A few years ago I was riding the T in Boston back from a show, and the car was pretty much empty except for myself and a normal-enough guy sitting roughly across from me. The next thing I know he's taken his... um... "little friend" out of his pants and is holding it between his fingers and wagging it at me. Never has it taken so long to get to my stop. Definitely one of (if not *the*) creepiest thing that's ever happened to me.
6 | Rachel | June 4, 2004 11:50 AM
I have seen that blind accordionist! What cracked me up was how the passengers reacted to his stumbling through the car. They all seemed ready to stick their arms out to keep him from toppling onto them.
Speaking of accordionists... If you get the chance to see a guy named Corn Mo perform, do it. He does a sublime Free Bird - no joke! That guy can rock.
Speaking of exhibitionists... I must have a sign that only they can read and that sign must say "Jerk off in front of me!" The trick is to deny them your horror or embarrassment. Big City Livin'(TM) trains you for the correct blase response. Anyway, the last time it happened, I was living in the Lower East Side, and a kid driving a van pleaded so sweetly for me to watch that I agreed and got a story out of it. (The things we'll do for Story.)
7 | lisa | June 4, 2004 12:16 PM
Thank you lisa; glad I wasn't just still drunk!
8 | deb | June 4, 2004 12:41 PM
love is like cancer. once you get it, it latches itself onto your vital organs and squeezes the life from them until you suffocate from tumors of happiness.
my name is temporary. you have an ugly face.
9 | nonix | June 4, 2004 02:07 PM
there was a guy on my bus that everyone called "peanut butter man". if you said the words "peanut butter" within earshot of him, he would charge at you and try to throttle you.
10 | aurora | June 4, 2004 04:01 PM
thank you deb for distracting me from a broken heart.
11 | your biggest cheerleader | June 4, 2004 04:54 PM
During my NYC days I also saw the Blind Accordian player, mostly on the 4.
I never gave him any money, but he gets an 'E' for effort.
12 | Scott | June 4, 2004 06:50 PM
I was in Chicago a couple of years ago coming back from Wrigley and a guy like that stacked guy almost threw 3 drunk frat boys out the window. I never understand drunk people's infatuation with trying to fight large people.
13 | Pete | June 4, 2004 07:16 PM
I was stopped at Dairy Queen with my three year old daughter, bribing her with every penny I had worth of ice cream just to get her to please, please, pleeeeeeeeeeese go to the day care right next door...
He pulled up and threw something in the trash.
Returning to his car I saw the gargantuan penis as he opened the door to sit down.
I still cannot believe he got OUT of his car at D.Q. waggin like the presidents hand at a Republican convention.
Sparks Flying,
S.M.
14 | Sparkmonkey | June 4, 2004 08:12 PM
The president's hand is the only thing you'll see wagging at a Republican convention. Even the dullest "working girls" will be out of the City in August.
15 | Michael | June 4, 2004 08:31 PM
See, that's why I have to live in the city. You can't make that crap up. That story is actually more eventful than last year's 4th of July "I'm Dave and that is a sake bottle in my pants" ride home.
16 | Alexis | June 5, 2004 02:06 PM
Yes! I've seen the blind accordian player too, and just thought I had become an extra in some independent movie and no one told me.
17 | Anonymous | June 8, 2004 07:02 PM
Good God, that was wonderful.
18 | Emily Drew | June 9, 2004 08:24 AM