My Subway Poetray

You should write down every silly thought you think,

For thinked thoughts do trickle down the spine like bloody ink,

And rouse the heart with thoughtful beats and rumbles heard,

And leaps up through the throat as spoken word.

 

What I Don’t Want to See/Smell/Feel on the Subway

Hello, Blog-o-sphere. It’s been a WHILE.

I could give you a long winded explanation, nay, excuse, detailing why I haven’t been writing sweet, sweet words. Gone were the philosophical insights, the odd, parental quotations, and the occasional angry rants that I wrote all for you, my wonderful 30-something followers (I’m saying that there are 30 or so of you, not that you’re in your 30s…). But I will not insult you with my meaningless excuses. This is an apology not to you but to myself, because let’s face it, there are many other blogs for you to read and mine is a B- on a good day. I’m sorry that I got out of the habit of blogging because I love it and because it can give purpose to the worst days, like this one where I woke up, hungover, and have only been consuming diet Pepsi. So now I’m trying, one post at a time, to return to my old blog obsession, and to the days when I posted several posts a day, literally writing some and saving them to post for another day so ya’ll wouldn’t know that I really had nothing else to do with my time.

So here is my first post in months…What I DO NOT Want to See/Smell/Feel on the Subway:

1. PDA- For those of you who utilize public transportation, specifically the subway, you know that this should be at the top of the list. There should also be subcategories: Teen PDA (with the long, soulful, slimy make-out sessions), Old PDA (where walking Mid-Life Crises awkwardly lick each others faces with their eyes closed to prove they’ve still got it…fyi, they don’t), Bragging PDA (these are usually 20s who wrap themselves around their lovers to stake a claim on them), and let’s not forget Drunk PDA (this can be found after Midnight and is the worst but most forgivable kind, worst because it’s the grossest and least inhibited and most forgivable because…well…we’ve all been there). But even though this is a colorful and varied act I DO NOT WANT TO SEE ANY OF IT. Unless you have a rare disorder that requires you to consume someones saliva every two seconds you need to stop. We are all just trying to get from A to B (literally the A train, to the B train) and I do not want to watch you dry hump your boyfriend/girlfriend of 2 minutes while I sit uncomfortable across from you. I have porn for that.

2. Farting- Who are you? What phantom flatulent-er is in every subway car and always let’s one rip right when the door is closed, forcing as all to breath in your juices and familiarizing us with your dietary habits. What kind of shit are you trying to pull? [Pun intended] Is it an accident or do you get off watching us asphyxiate on your Eau du Ass? If I find you I will kill you. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise.

3. Another biddy selling me Welch’s Fruit Snacks- For anyone who rides the New York City Subway, you have probably seen the teenagers who march into the car, stand in the center and say something like: “Excuse me Ladies and Gentleman! My name is [enter name here] and I am trying to stay off the streets and make money honestly so I am selling Welch’s Fruit Snacks/Snickers/Crack, 2 for a dollar. Blah blah blah.” Then they stare at you intensely and guilt you into buying some. Now, I’m not heartless (doctor’s have done extensive tests) but if I have to listen to another one of those speeches I will grab those chewy little snacks out of there hands, chew them up, and spit them in their faces. I just don’t like to be “guilt-ed” into anything! And you know what, fruit snack guy? I don’t have a job either, so I am a months rent a way from going the “exotic dancer” route, so NO, I do not want a fruit snack! Though if you start selling Zoloft, hit me up.

4. Subway Gymnastics- Urban dictionary defines “Subway Gymnastics” as: ” Any variety of wild, crazy, and retarded antics you can accomplish by hanging off of the poles, overhead grab bars, and other structures inside of a moving subway car.” There are two prominent forms of subway gymnastics. There is the lonely athlete who just likes to get his/her jollies practicing pole dancing. Then there is the gaggle of (usually) dudes who put their boombox down, throw a tip hat on the ground, and do their thang. This might actually sound fun to some of you, entertainment for your ride, but let me assure you IT IS NOT. Much like the fruit snack guy, it ends in the tip stare downs and, occasionally, the cold, harsh reality of a sneaker to the face. Yes. They are always a beard hair away from kicking you in the face. Not cool.

5. A hidden pet– This is the act of sneaking a pet onto the train, whether it be by bag or trench coat. I’m all for pets, ALL FOR THEM, but I am a little rat paranoid on the train and if some biddy’s hidden yorkie starts to squiggle in a bag near my feet who knows what I might do in the heat of the moment.

6. Smelly Hipsters– Dear Hipsters, you think your so cool with your hemp-made shirts, your hand-rolled cigarettes, and your “vintage” jacket that I definitely saw on sale at Urban Outfitters. It’s a look, I get it. But for the love of god, would it kill you to wear some motherfucking deodorant?! You’re not the only people who smell on the subway but I’m most disappointed in you, you plaid-soaked douche. Think of those around you! So the next time I’m smushed next to you on the train, staring into your matted, greasy hair I will hit you so hard it will dislodge that half-eaten vegan cookie I saw up there.

7. Too Much Skin- This can be embodied many ways. There is always a trying-too-hard-soccer-Mom with her low-rise jeans (that she stole from her daughter) and her low-cut shirt (that she stole from a Bratz doll). Really, low-anything is bad. But then there are the groups of college girls going out on weekends in their finest Assault Me attire, in mini skirts that scream, “you don’t have to ruffy me, I’m willing!” I’m a bit of a hypocrite with that one seeing that Freshman year I once mistook a pair of tights for leggings, and for those who don’t know the difference it’s that you can’t wear tights as pants, they’re see-through…But you only can make that mistake twice. And let’s not forget the scantily clad men! There are the accidental plumbers’ butts and then the short-short wearing guys, either on the way home from the gym or on the way out to the clubs. So to all you skanks, if I see nips or balls I’m calling the mayor.

8. Tweens coming home from school– So. Loud. I get it, middle school is a scary time. Your voice may be changing, your getting hair in new and curious locations, and your face may or may not be more cratered than the dark side of the moon. But I do not want to be a part of your experience, I’m still getting over my own. And no, I do not need to hear who Milo is dating and who got their period in gym class, and I especially don’t need to hear it at such a volume. So let’s play the quiet game, shall we? The longer you stay quiet the less I will judge you for the Jonas Brothers folder and the purple corduroy pants. Though the kids at school will still definitely kick your ass for it.

9. Stickiness-Why? Why is the pole sticky? You know what, I don’t want to know.

10. That Woman/Man/Non-Gendered Subway Person who is on every late night train, sleeping under a matted fir coat- You all should know this person if you take the train. They are found sleeping in a car of the train at the very back. They are ALWAYS wearing an old fur coat and are shapeless otherwise. You never see their face, or their head, really, and they are surrounded by the contents of their life. There is the shopping cart that contains various gems found in trash cans throughout the city along with the plastic bag filled with cans and bottles. Not once during the ride do they stir giving you the sneaking suspicion that they have been dead since 1983 and no one has cared to move the body. Word to the wise: wait for the next train.

And finally…

11. You– You, subway rider, I don’t want to feel you.

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