subway stories.

As some may know, I reside in NYC for the months of the summer. More specifically, I live on the upper western side, yet my place of work is located on the east side, somewhere in the 50s. (I know the exact address, but I don't want to write it here, lest I become that "one guy" who started blogging about his job and put some inappropriate things on his blog and got fired. That guy's name is Lester. Lest I become that guy lester...strange.) Anyway, what this all means is that I have to figure out a way to get to work every morning, and that usually involves a lot of subway riding. There are some mornings where I will even ride 3 trains, and this is very bad.

Why is this very bad? A few reasons. First of all, the subway platform is the hottest place on the face of this here earth. I was thinking about this while I was sweating profusely this morning, and wondering if there is any way they will ever ever install air conditioning down there, or maybe gigantic fans or something. To make matters worse, I am usually wearing long sleeved shirts, even though many people at the firm wear short sleeve polos right now. I have about 5 solid (as opposed to striped or patterned-which I am inexplicably afraid to wear) short sleeved polo shirts, but I usually only wear them on fridays and weekends. By the way, not that I am a fashion guru or anything, but I beg any male who is reading this not to wear a button down short sleeved shirt to work. OR ever. Don't do it, its worse than wearing a turtle neck. So the point is that I feel compelled to give all my shirts "even-wearing" time, although some of them are old, stained, or missing buttons. I don't know why I do this with my shirts, b/c they are inanimate objects and do not have feelings. It is Ok not to wear all of them equally, yet I refuse to do so.

So I am sweating my butt off on the platform, and the train finally arrives, and this is good b/c the inside of the train has AC. If you see a car with no one in it, that probably means that the AC is broken so do not enter. It is either that or someone went to the bathroom in it, vomited, or was murdered or maybe only stabbed. But crowded air-conditioned cars have problems as well. Of course there is always weird contact moments where I find my hand on other people's butts, but thats all fun and games. The real awkwardness sets in if you actually get a seat, but people then hover over u menacingly. This happened to me last night, while I was traveling with some females who I know by name. I sat down, and a second later, some old dude's crotch is right in my face. To make matters worse, he stared menacingly at the female, thus accomplishing the rare yet amazing feat of "freaking 2 people out at once by simply standing still". Thank you old crotch man.

The subway also provides for the most random of all run ins. ("Random Min Ha'Random") I have no idea what the proper etiquette is for these type of run ins. Inevitably, you will run into 2 or 3 people a week who u have not seen or spoken to in the last 5 years. About once every two weeks u will run into a girl you dated. Once a month, you will run into a person you added to facebook, thinking you will never see them anyway, so why not add them at 5 AM. The subway is crowded and you cannot really even stop and chat to talk to them. I say give em a wave, a smile, and say "i'm sorry, i gotta run to work". This excuse doesn't always work, especially at like 10 PM. Or if they know that you don't have to run to any work at all, b/c you spend your time writing crap like this.

Enemy territory

It has certainly been awhile, and this is because I got the ole writers block, which is better than having the ole scurvy...I was recently home for a July 4th extravaganza and Mom began to criticize my recent posts on this here blog. Mom asked me why all I seem to write about is synagogue and stuff of that ilk. The truth is that I used to write about food and deli alot, and before that I wrote about dating alot. But something I really never got to discuss in full detail- and it really deserves more than one rant- is going to the bathroom. I love going to the bathroom b/c it is when I can concentrate the best. I can study there for hours at a time, and the knowledge just flows into me...maybe as the waste leaves my body, I am able to replace it simultaneously with exciting law knowledge...who knows. At work, I sometimes go to the bathroom to take naps, b/c I cannot nap at my desk, as this is deemed "unprofessional". Now that I think about it, taking a nap on the toilet is probably more "unprofessional" but no one is able to see. To make it super-authentic, I even lower the trousers, so I can trick people into thinking I am actually using the bathroom. I am devious. Is this too much information for you people?

Anyway, so u all get the point- I appreciate a good bathroom outing. Sometimes, however, bathroom conditions are far from ideal. This tragic situation occured to me on Wednesday evening of this week. A female companion of mine suggested that we go get Ben and Jerry's ice cream on 104th street in NYC. As a side note, since when is there a Ben and Jerry's on 104th street??? Why was I not notified of this amazing discovery until this week. I am very upset. Anyway, I got chocholate fudge brownie frozen yogurt, b/c Mom has instituted a new rule that I can no longer eat ice cream b/c it is making my romp get fat. I also have to drink diet snapple, diet coke, and skim milk and splenda in my coffee. This won't ever work b/c I still drink beer. Strangely, Mom has not yet passed a rule against beer drinking.

So as you might remember from a post entitled "The Lactose Intolerance", sometimes my stomach reacts unfavorably to the presence of Lactose. I just realized that Lactose is similar to the expensive brand Lacoste. Not sure if there is any other connectionl, other than the fact that I am "Lacoste intolerant" as well, b/c I hate people who wear those shirts. Ironically, however, I myself have some lacoste items, so this may mean that I hate myself. More on this at a therapy session later. The point is that I had to really go to the bathroom, and so I asked the female companion if I can use her facilities. I knew that this was a dangerous proposition, but I was getting hit hard, and I had to do this. I asked her where the spray was as well, and this made us both uncomfortable.

This female has two roomates and they were both home = 3 girls in the apartment that I feared would all stand next to the door and try to listen to me on the toilet. That is why the first thing I did upon arriving in this strange, rose-scented bathroom, was turn on the faucet, shower, take out a set of drums, and make any other noise I can so that they could not hear me actually excreting. I'm pretty sure this plan worked to perfection, but I then encountered 2 more obstacles.

First- I wanted to make sure the bathroom was as clean and pleasent as it was when I entered. This meant that I would have to spend the next 14 minutes cleaning every spot of the room, so that the 3 ladies would never ever remember that I desecrated their bathroom palace. I scrubbed, I poured toilet cleaner in the toilet, and that just turned all the water blue. I also had to spray, which brings me to the second obstacle...

Second- Remember how I asked the female if they had spray? Well, they did, and she even told me that it was in a corner next to the toilet. What she didn't tell me was that said corner was also stocked with female-oriented products known as tampons. Now, I mean stocked...like when elaine wants to stock up on sponges on Seinfeld. I guess these girls get this stuff at Costco or whatever. The point is that I did not plan on sifting through boxes of tampons in order to locate a spray.

I gotta tell you- I was seized with such a mad panic when I didn't see that spray at first. I had no idea what the hell I would have done. Luckily, I found it and sprayed it for 10 minutes straight, before passing out on the floor from the chemicals. I never want to go to a girl bathroom again-its forever marked and etched in my mind as "enemy territory", and I want 2 bathrooms when I am married, and I want mine to have a piano in it, so my musically talented friends can play tunes for me...preferably show tunes, and no jewish music, b/c then I would sing along and i think that is not allowed.