[great night at my favorite Brazilian restaurant with my favorite human being]

…before tonight I never really understood what “fuck you” actually felt like.

Taking the 5 express downtown from Grand Central to Fulton Street is always an easy task - no real chore, it’s quite direct, eventless. I take this route quite often during the week, journeying home from a night with my beau - piece of cake.

I walk down the two flights of steps which take me to the Broadway/Nassau platform which is home to the A/C train - busy, to say the least. A larger commuter hub. This is the place where the Brooklyn crowd split off like a broken vein into the pounding heart that is Manhattan - and it’s no different in terms of going back into the southern borough at the end of the day either.

I normally walk the entire length - the length of the platform/train - at least I can get a standing place/seat closer to the front-most part of the train. Tonight I followed habit, walking the entire length of the platform, and coming to a stop at one of the support struts that dot the length of the station. I lean up against one, and decide that listening to some Michael Jackson may be a decent enough way to live through the next 15-20 minutes of waiting/subway riding.

I pull out my iPod and I’m scrolling through and….

[BAM!]

…my hand is knocked with a force that I’m glad that my iPod is attached to my ears by way of earphones - otherwise the fucking thing was flying out of my hands. After the initial mental “what the fuck”, I eye the [yellow] blur that followed the blatant shoulder barge, and noticed with remarkable raising of eyebrow that the cunt never looked back… not even to apologize.

Welcome to being “fuck you’d”.

My brother will attest to what I’m about to say… knock me, nudge me, no problem - just say you’re sorry… if you don’t, I’m fucking killing you. And I don’t care if it’s in public.

[sigh]

So after my blood boiling level fell to below normal, I analyzed what happened and came up with numerous fucking ways why I shouldn’t follow this prick and cave in his skull for just barging by me with such lack a of human dignity to warrant a “sorry”… I couldn’t come up with anything. I wanted to wind the earphones around my iPod, sling the thing in my bag, follow this wanker, to a public (as public as he pushed me) place and pound the shit out of this motherfucker until I felt better, entitled, suckling on the teat of victory.

Out of nowhere I gained a sense of serenity. I must have left my music running… I didn’t wind the earphones around my iPod… I didn’t follow him into violent oblivion… no suckling.

I realized how beautiful this city is, how original - the people, splendid. The sporadic events that intertwine our lives with the slightest of touches, and the heaviest of pushes. Without the slightest thought, this guy had become part of of my life whether he liked it or not.

It’s with the most fragile of changes in the innermost sanctity of breaths of experience, do we truly experience the truest sense of what is New York City.

The following song was playing when I was pushed.

Apt.

Word to the wise: before you take that empty seat, check for the butt sweat streak.

I was standing (as per fucking usual) on the C this morning, and as the train was pulling into Broadway/Lafayette I noticed the lummox sat next to wherer I stood was shifting - an obvious indication that she was getting off at this stop. She stood, I made the quick judgment as to whether I could grab it before anyone else, and I realized that this day, the Britblogger would be seated for the next few stops to Times Square.

Then I spotted it.

Glistening like a bald man’s head in the summer sun… a 6 inch butt sweat streak.

I have no idea where she’d boarded the train, but her crack must have been sweating like a good ‘un for plenty of time for her shit stink to seep through her knickers (assuming she wasn’t going Commando) and her pants, and through to the plastic seat.

As any normal human being will undoubtedly know, any kind of sweat on a solid surface should dissipate over a brief period of time… I want you to know, this thing stayed there for 3 and a half subway stops - from Broadway/Lafayette to almost West 4th Street.

If you find yourself with the golden opportunity of grabbing an empty seat on the New York City subway, do yourself a favor and check for damp. Remember, that shit can’t be odorless.

[shudders]

I love New York.

This morning’s commute was without doubt the fucking funniest I’ve had to date, period. Firstly, I get a seat on the C train - talk about winning the lottery.I sat at the left-hand end of a train car, across from the conductor compartment - one of those 2-seater ass buckets, you get my drift. Across from me sat the epitome of OCD… allow my retort… homeless (evidently presented due to the scruffy attire, 3 bags full of torn-off-posters and other oddities) and fucking nuts - the guy goes into this entire “god loves his children” shit reading off the back off some MTA (no C train this weekend) flyers that he’d written his speeches on - so loud I could hear him through my own blaring music, and my Er6i’s. Mesmerized by this, I couldn’t help but watch him delve deep into his multiple bags and pull out 2 different pairs of sunglasses and 4 different hats. All of them were worn, and in an array of presentation, as if one were in Sunglasses & Hat Hut checking out the latest fashions. Jesus, I live in a fucking nut house.

I think I was about as far as Jay Street, and out of my periphery I sense a “shape” moving toward me.

[tangent]

If you’ve ridden the New York City subway, you’ll know that a 2-seater doesn’t actually sit 2 people - especially when one of the parties is, how should I put it, fat.

[back on topic]

Here she comes - has to be about 250lbs - ass - that’s all I saw - her ass, eye-level with me, moving my way. She SQUEEZES in next to me, squashing my winter coat, smushing it against my body, creating folds against both me and the seat I was sat on. First thought was, of course, “for fuck’s sake, what the fuck are you doing!”, yet I remained mute. She “sits”, and tries to hook her left leg over her right, to allow her more room to occupy the seat she took, and it just doesn’t work - her leg sliding off, twice. Here’s the funny part… she stands up - well, pulls herself out of the seat, stands up, turns around and looks at me and gives me the dirtiest look ever! Like it’s my fault her arse is bigger than a fucking television. Awesome, ironic, idiocy.

So the office was nuts as usual - the coworker with the farting problem is back on top form - big time, which brings forth hilarity, not a bad thing - I swear though, if I ever smell one of those pant cabbages, I will have to lose my shit entirely.

I’m surfing the net as I usually do, and I come across the coolest thing I’ve seen in a LOOOOONG time - a wedding, a video, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” playing… you know what comes next… yes, YES, the bloody entire wedding group do the Thriller dance, and it just brings my day back to some level of normality, and all is good in the world.

God I love this City, I do - I really do.

New Yorker Wesley Autrey became a hero yesterday when he saved the life of Cameron Hollopeter, a student at the New York Film Academy. After Cameron fell from the subway platform at the southbound 1 train’s 137th Street/City College station, Wesley jumped into action and dived on top of the terrified teenager and pinned him down in the drainage trough between the tracks, as a 1 train came screaming into the station - thankfully the train driver saw what was happening and slammed on the emergency brakes, but not until 2 train cars had passed over the two, leaving only 2 inches to spare between them and the undercarriage of the train.

A true hero story - I love reading shit like this - this is the kind of story that inspires.

Cluster fuck of a commute… I’ll make it brief. Half way between Spring and West 4th on the C train and some muppet decided to pull the chuffing emergency brake. We lurch forward (thankfully I’m holding onto the handrail firmly) and come to a sudden stop.

[90 minutes later, literally]

Police and MTA Supervisor presence now gone, we jerk forward and continue to West 4th Street, where I hopped onto the V to work. Nice… only took me 2 hours to get to work today.

Such wankers in New York, really.

There’s something about the 80’s that I can’t shake. Sharp cheekbones and spandex - what a decade for music. In an effort to add variety to my 45 minutes of subterranean traveling, I felt that I needed some attention from the Romford quintet.

I loved this band - their Silk & Steel album was actually the first album I ever bought… and I remember opening up the cellophane wrapping and sliding the cassette into my Saisho Walkman.

And yes, of course I felt like dancing!

I jumped for fucking joy this morning as I turned the corner at the bottom of the Clinton/Washington subway station steps to see that they’d finally installed the 2nd turnstile - and it’s fully working!

Thank you MTA, thank you station supervisor, and thank you 311 - amazing what you can achieve when you complain to the right people.

If you’re new to my blog, you’ll get a better idea of what a bloody nightmare this has been by reading here and here.

Whilst everyone else was sound asleep this morning at 8am (it’s the day before July 4th - July 3rd to the Brits, the day before Independence Day for the Yanks, and most take today off) I headed to the C train stop at Fulton/Washington. Down the 2 flights of stairs, and what do I see when I get to the bottom of the 2nd flight? They’re only fitting the entrance with another turnstile! Yes, a 2nd turnstile!! Gadzooks, a fucking miracle!!!

The thing wasn’t operational yet, but they’re half way done putting in another turnstile at the Fulton/Washington entrance to the Clinton/Washington C train stop.

[I'll take a pic later this week and add it to this post]

No rhyme or reason to it, but I leapt out of bed at 5:10am this morning. Dropping into the local deli to grab a coffee and a grapefruit juice, I followed with a refreshing shower, and I was ready to go by 6:45am. Instead of listening to my free versions of the Ricky Gervais Show (why I won’t pay for his Podcast), I opted for some 80’s tracks. Flicking through my playlist, my nano flashed “Crush on You, The Jets”… well I haven’t heard this one in ages, so click…

I love this freaking song - I almost started dancing on the train, seriously. You’ll more than likely find me at the front of the train, leaning against the driver’s door - as it was early, the train was half empty - weird, it was probably the first time I actually almost started dancing and didn’t give a shit who was watching.

God I love New York today.

Crammed into subway cars with hundreds of other commuters during the morning rush, New Yorkers have cultivated all kinds of fantasies about what they would rather be doing — but acting on them is another matter.
Officials are axing advertisements that playfully urge subway riders to pretend they’re on vacation — showing cartoon figures fly fishing on the tracks and lounging across subway seats. The ads, part of a Bahamas Ministry of Tourism campaign, “advocate behavior that is clearly unsafe” and will be replaced, said Jodi Senese, a spokeswoman for CBS Outdoor, the company that distributes advertising in New York’s underground.

Under the heading “Instant Escape No. 2: How to Fly Fish with a Scarf and a cellphone,” one ad seems to instruct riders to fish for trash on the tracks by putting something sticky on a cellphone and attaching it to a scarf.

Another sign in the series, “How to Turn a Subway Seat into a Hammock,” shows a figure draped over several seats.

Track fishing and seat hogging are both forbidden by the Metropolitan Transportation Authority’s official rules.

Senese told The New York Times for Wednesday editions that the Bahamas campaign escaped her company’s notice because tourism ads do not usually require heavy scrutiny. The ads are plastered throughout as many as a quarter of the city’s 6,210 subway cars.

I’ve seen these ads over the last few weeks, and they’re eye catching - and fun with it. Makes a nice change from seeing ad after ad for some English language school bribing foreigners with the notion of speaking English will actually increase their network of friends.

I’m confused though… wouldn’t their campaign have had to been approved by the MTA in the first place? Moreover, I’m glad they’re taking down the ads, I mean, god forbid I feel compelled enough to stick a hook and maggot on the end of my scarf one day on the platform at Washington/Clinton… [rolls eyes]

For those that haven’t kept up with my asinine ramblings since last Summer, you probably don’t know that I have a Sony PSP. Also known as the new love of my life.

I’ve taken to ripping and uploading full movies onto it, and watching them either in bed, or most recently, on the subway.

I am very aware of my surroundings, vigilant and low-key as far as “flaunting” my black lump of gorgeousness on the public transportation system, but I can’t help but think about being the target for a good old fashioned smack in the mush and getting robbed.

Those of you that travel frequently on the C train will no doubt attest to my claim that it doesn’t pass through the safest of ‘hoods. Now don’t get me wrong, I feel safe in my surroundings, but flashing my PSP goodness in the faces of my brethren will most likely get me noticed for the wrong reasons - and not my freakishly engaging cowlick.

I have taken to only watching movies in the morning on the E or V trains once I get into West 4th Street - at least this way I have a wall of trench-coated pen pushers between me and any knife wielding ex cons.

So I’m on the C train this morning, as per usual, and I’m at the front of the train (a-la my previous posts about the other entrance’s fucked up turnstile) and stood next to an MTA employee leaning up against the driver’s door, sporadically peeking in, probably commenting on how smooth a ride he is…

[the kicker]

She’s got a cup of hot tea in her gloved hand. HOT TEA! I know what you’re thinking… ’so what?’, you say. Was I freaking hallucinating when I heard on the telly that any open hot drinks on the subway were now illegal, and subject to a fine?

[below rules taken from the MTA website]

New Rules

It is a violation to:

• Jump the turnstile or enter the system improperly, even if your MetroCard is not working properly
• Refuse to present special fare card to police officer or transit employee
• Straddle a bicycle, wear in-line or roller skates, stand on a skateboard or ride a scooter
• Move between end doors of a subway car whether or not train is in motion, except in an emergency or when directed by police officer or conductor
• Place one’s foot on the seat of a subway, bus, or platform bench; occupy more than one seat or place bags on an empty seat when doing so would interfere with transit operations or the comfort of other customers

Existing Rules

It remains a violation to:

• Fail to pay the proper fare
• Panhandle or beg
• Play a radio audible to others or use amplified devices on platforms
• Block free movement
• Lie down
• Drink alcoholic beverages
• Carry any liquid in an open container onto a train or bus
• Engage in unauthorized commercial activity
• Enter tracks, tunnels, or other non-public areas
• Carry bulky items likely to cause inconvenience or hazard to yourself and others
• Damage subway or bus property - that includes graffiti or scratchitti
• Litter or create unsanitary conditions
• Smoke anywhere on NYC Transit property, including outdoor stations

Do as I say, not as I do… nice fucking example you’re making, wankers.

[shakes head]

Ok, the turnstile has not been fixed, it would seem. During the holidays, the card reader appeared to be working fine - but yesterday morning, the line was actually so long that it snaked back up the freaking stairs. I decided it advantageous to take a walk to the other entrance 2 blocks away.

I have something to say… even though the card reader is obviously faulty, those bastards that are swiping and swiping and swiping to no avail, move out of the fucking way so those that have cards that aren’t over 3 years old and falling apart can get to work on time.

Fuckers!

It would appear that the turnstile that was such a bone of contention for many Brooklyn commuters has been fixed! Having returned to work this week on pretty much a normal schedule, I noticed that my fellow Brooklynites were whizzing through the turnstile in one go.

Kudos to the MTA for getting this done - especially considering what was going on last week.

[If I am in fact incorrect in my assumption and I am witnessing pure luck, please leave your comments here]

If you live in my neighborhood and catch the C train to Manhattan from the Clinton & Washington subway station, you will no doubt understand where I’m coming from with this rant. There are 2 entrances to this poor excuse for a station, and whilst one provides ample turnstilage, the other does not… indeed, I’m referring to the Manhattan-bound entrance on Fulton and Washington.

EVERY morning, I find myself at the end of a long line of inane fuckos hysterically taking turns at swiping their MTA cards through the turnstile card scanner, to no avail. They swipe - nothing… swipe, think it has worked only to walk into a rigid turnstile thwacking their knee cap on the steel bars… swipe, nothing - a shake of the head…

[it goes on and on like this for about 5-10 minutes]

I have to admit, although I get frustrated with the endless attempts from my fellow commuters trying to use their 4-year-old, bent and battered MTA cards with no success, this issue should really fall at the feet of the MTA and the City of New York.

For starters, there’s only ONE turnstile at this entrance… which on the occasion when commuters are exiting the platform, we end up waiting for the long line of Brooklyn-bound workers to leave before we can start to make our move…

Secondly, and more importantly, the turnstile card scanner is completely fucked. There was at least 15 people in line this morning, and it happens most days… today turned out to be particularly bullshit in nature as I stood and watched the C train come and go, as some woman was swiping frantically, movements reminiscent of a fiddlers elbow in the midst of a Vivaldi.

[time for action]

I called 311 a few minutes ago in an effort to report this. This has gone on too long and needs taking care of. So, I dialled 311 and after a short period of holding, and a plethora of transit security notices (like random bag searches and what not) I was put through to a lady called Leslie. I explained my plight (and that of my Clinton/Washington travellers) and she promptly told me she would have to direct this to the MTA for action. Leslie was very nice by the way.

About 20 seconds go by and I’m in the MTA’s holding pattern… shit, I thought.. here we go… but to my surprise, I was on hold for only 3 minutes! “Miss McCormack speaking, how may I help?”. Again, I explained what the problem was with my local subway turnstile and she proceeded to take down my information… apparently to substantiate my “claim”… like I’d waste my time fucking complaining about something that didn’t exist. [sheesh]

I asked her if there was anything else she needed from me, and there wasn’t. I asked for a reference number, and they don’t give those out - but what she did tell me was that this will be passed to the station department (at Clinton/Washington) for action who will have an engineer take a look at it.

There was no indication made as to what timescale would be involved, but if I had any questions, I could call the station department directly. With that in mind, I thought I’d share that number with you all, just in case you’re getting pig sick of standing in a freaking line every morning - give the station department hell…

(718) 243-3222I’ll be calling these bastards every week until cards start going through on a single swipe.

The commute this morning was horrendous. The MTA are conducting some major repairs - long needed overhauls of the City’s subway system… which means disruptions for all commuters into and around Manhattan. Today was no exception. I sometimes think that the subway drivers are impervious to heat, as although it’s mid-November, humidity was at it’s peak and it felt around 70′F - yet no air conditioning was running on the C this morning.

[pore explosion]

Needless to say the last car on the train this morning at 8am was full of sweat-drenched working class… yours truly notwithstanding.

The rain always makes for fun times during morning rush hour commuting. Subway platforms are packed, the trains’ expediency is sporadic at best, and if you’re lucky enough to squeeze into one, you’re a fucking sardine. I am including the following example of complete moronic twattism into my list of “mood changers” in my “setting me up for the day” article - this is number 9 on my subway commute shit list.

[the set up]

So the C train this morning was extraordinarily slow to show at Clinton/Lafayette - on a good day the frequency of these steel behemoths is borderline slothesque. I board with my backpack (taking well-in-need-of-repair shoes to cobbler in the city), umbrella and man purse (also known as ‘murse’ to the metro crowd apparently) and slide into a space at the back of the subway car against the back door - nice, I can lean and not have to touch the sneeze-smeared hand rail today.

We go along for a couple of stops, and then this Asian girl decides to worm her way over in my direction. She proceeds to stand next to me, facing right (I’m facing front in the direction of the train) and holding onto one of those horizontal hand rails… and then it happens… she takes out her copy of the New Yorker, and releases her hand from her support bar. All’s fine and dandy until the train pulls into the next station and her body is thrown forward as the brakes are hit… bang, in she goes like a pro wrestler into the unsuspecting commuter in front of her, to which she proclaims, “Oh, sorry”, and returns her bony Asian hand back to the underutilized rail. The train sits in the station for long enough for the perpetrator to let go yet again and return to her New york rag.

[slow motion]

I watch her, almost knowing what’s coming next… call me David fucking Blane… “stand clear of the closing doors, please”… [pissshhhhhh]… train jerks forward with the release of the brakes and the driver throwing the switch into drive… einstein comes lurching like she’s coming at me with some new martial art move involving her skinny arse and pointy elbow.

Come on, for crying out loud! Is it that difficult for a human being to understand that when the train jerks either forward or back, you’re up for some movement in the opposite direction, guaranteed. And it’s not as if this is surprising to anyone, it happens every… bloody… time… it… pulls… into… and… out… of… the… station! Pisses me off when this select few feel it’s ok to bash and knock into me on the train. Why? Seriously, why? What am I, a fender? A fucking cushion?

Anyway, so without further ado, I deftly fashioned my chest into a medieval battering ram and pushed back… what? She got it coming.

[lesson]

Grow another hand, or put your bag on the floor and free up your other hand. Better still, hold onto the frigging rail - if the trains didn’t have ‘em you’d be pissed. You’re not a chuffing balancing act at the local Billy Shit’s Traveling Circus.

[felt good pushing back - think I'll make a habit of reciprocating future cuntish behavior like that]

Well it looks like I won’t be walking to work in fear of being ravaged by shards of white hot metal any more… CNN announced today that “information that led to heightened security for the New York City transit system was a hoax”.

A HOAX? Wait a sec, this was one of the most corroborated pieces of terrorist information that we’d ever had since 9/11, no? American Intelligence. Oxymoron of the fucking century.

So now that I had to spend my Friday morning commute with soiled trousers scared shitless about some explosive stroller being wheeled onto my subway car was in vain, I can feel much safer… NOT FRIGGING LIKELY! How can I possibly trust a source (our own Intelligence community) with this new news if their old news was completely fabricated, and indeed, without stringent corroboration?

Yay, you got us with that one! Thanks guys, you had me going for a second there :)

[douchebags]

I’m sure you are aware of the recent news report pertaining to a terrorist threat, which is alleged to take place on the New York City subways. Mayor Mike Bloomberg and Commissioner Kelly spoke on national television on Friday in an effort to step up the public’s vigilance, and indeed to advise that the New York City emergency services were on high alert. Ok, so now we know that there’s a high risk of this happening, any chance you could be a little more specific?

Only until today did I browse upon some rather unnerving news regarding the aforementioned:

A Department of Homeland Security memo obtained by The Associated Press said the attack was reportedly scheduled to take place on or around Sunday, with terrorists using timed or remote-controlled explosives hidden in briefcases, suitcases or in or under strollers.

I can understand and certainly appreciate the fact of retaining some information out of the public eye, for reasons of panic, indeed. However, this latest news release may be of more use than the broader timescale previously released by the press - it allows us to at least make an “educated” choice about how we would like to travel tomorrow.

Admittedly, I am concerned for my own safety, and that of my fellow New Yorkers… but I won’t NOT be travelling on the subway tomorrow - that’s what terrorism is… to terrorize… come terrorize me.

And if it turns out that it doesn’t happen tomorrow, I’ll be on the C & E/Vs trains on Monday about 8am, holding a firm look of defiance and strumming my fingers to the 2nd verse of Coldplay’s “Speed of Sound”.

I’m not being oblivious, but living my life as I do every day in this great city.