Guest post by Very Smash:
I saw this as someone’s Google Talk Status Message:
Tip #42: How to secure a seat on a bus [or train] in NYC. Talk loudly on your phone about your recent trip to Mexico, while coughing and sneezing….
The next day it was edited to say:
Apparently tip #42 doesn’t actually work
I hate homeless people. Uch. They take up space, they smell up that space - as well as all the surrounding space - and are unpleasant debris. The other day on the subway, I encountered one such thing. It was very noticeable: no one was standing near it, despite the fact that the train was packed. My first thought was, “Oh, that’s gross! This is a brand new E train, and now they’re going to have to get a new one already.” Then I turned my attention to the pile itself. There was a mound of dirty clothes, underneath which resembled the shape of a human, with two garbage bags next to it. It was seated but sprawled over at an impossible position, managing to take up three seats. I realized why people were avoiding that part of the train. There were 2 reasons: (1) The smell. (2) It’s rare, but occasionally you can get lucky on the train. If a seated passenger gets off before your exit, you have a mathematical chance at securing that seat. We all knew that homeless guy wasn’t leaving; if he disembarked from the train, he’d be homesick. So nobody in their right mind wanted to stand near a filthy section of 3 seats that was guaranteed to remain taken.
That was one of the worst commuting experiences of recent memory. The ride back home earlier tonight was an absolute disaster. While waiting for the E train on the 34th Street platform, there was the usual rush-hour infestation of people piling into the station. The problem is that the E wasn’t coming. People kept coming, like a freaking swarm of insects at twilight, but there was no relief. There wasn’t even an E train within sight. Then they announced over the loudspeaker that there was a stalled E, and trains were “running at slower speeds.” The ever-growing crowd became unbearable. I switched to the A (express) track, then back to the local. Eventually I got onto a packed C train (just when I was about to head back for the A) and took it one stop to 42nd Street. From there I could be seen darting past others, weaving and slicing my way through the crowd, through the underpass to Times Square, where I boarded a 7 express train. That train, too, had delays, but at least those were tolerable. Then when we arrived in Flushing and I walked to the Q44 bus stop, I saw that I wasn’t the only one with that brilliant idea. There were far too many people there, and I had to wait for the next bus. If it was good weather, this whole ordeal would have been horrible. But it was raining; the weather [stunk]. I’m still upset about it now, many hours after the nightmare ended. Overall grade: F
Okay, so I bet you’re intrigued by this post’s title. What does the feminist movement have to do with mass transit? Allow me to explain. In America, and much of the Western world, women want to be like men. They want the same jobs as men, they want to play the same professional sports as men, and they want - more than anything - to be viewed as equals. No more of this around-the-house cleaner/cook/all-around-maid. No, sir. The politically correct way of referring to soldiers is “Our brave men and women in uniform.” How many women are there in the military? And how many are in combat positions? Still, it’s “men and women.” Such familiar words as “policeman” and “fireman” are now labeled as misogynistic. For the record, it’s “police officer” and “firefighter.” The last one in particular makes me chuckle. Come on already, does anyone actually believe that women are just as qualified as men to put out fires? Who’d you want to save you from a burning building and carry you to safety - a 6′4″ gorilla of a man, or an idealistic woman? It’s an outrage.
Everything you just read is mysteriously absent on the subway. Somehow, when it comes to getting a seat on the train, the mindset is that a man is supposed to give up his hard-earned seat for a woman. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. If a man sits down and there’s a woman who’s standing, she will give him the look of death. She’ll gaze at him with piercing eyes as if to say, “How dare you not give your seat to me!” And when a man is the closest one to a seat that opens up, there’s usually a woman who darts over from afar to steal it from him. There’s a certain sense of entitlement. As a woman, she deserves to sit. Let the man stand. My question is this: What happened to equality? Aren’t women and men the same in every area? Shouldn’t women be treated exactly like men, in all circumstances? It seems that the answer is no. Feminists promote equality only when it benefits them. However, if they can gain by being different, then they’ll be 1950’s-era housewives.
I believe that if you are in possession of something from which others would benefit - especially if sharing it with them would come at no cost to you - you should do the unselfish thing. I am a lucky man; my wife is a phenomenal cook. This recipe in particular is incredible. Don’t worry, I’m not about to use this blog as a platform for expressing mushiness. I am merely mentioning the fact that you need to check out the following recipe for yourselves. Men, you will love it. I guarantee it. Wives, your husbands will be happy men. And, hey, you’ll probably enjoy it too. And now I present to you: Pastrami Potato Kugel.
Trust me on this one, folks. It’s worth a try.
Ingredients: 8 potatoes; 5 eggs; half cup oil; 1 teaspoon salt; dash of black pepper; cut-up pieces of pastrami.
Instructions: Combine all ingredients except potatoes and pastrami. Mix well. Either blend or grate potatoes in food processor. Mix potatoes with egg mixture. Put half of the mixture into a 9″x13″ pan. Sprinkle cut-up pastrami on top. Put remaining potato mixture on top of pastrami. Bake at 350 degrees for 1:15 to 1:30.
This is a serious post. Enjoy!
Some people are incapable of securing employment on the basis of their credentials. However, if they reside in the United States and happen to be from one of the so-called “protected classes,” they need not worry. They’ll land the position while someone more qualified will not. This, my friends, is equality in modern-day America. We are so lucky to live in such a charitable land, where wonderful initiatives such as reverse discrimination prevail over silly, insignificant things like “fairness” and “justness.” This morning on the Q46, I witnessed this first-hand. You know that white line in the front of the bus? I was standing with my foot on it, so the front of my right shoe was about an inch on the other side of the line. The driver – a black woman – turned to me, and said (with some serious attitude), “You gotta get behind that line.” Of course, I complied immediately without saying a word. She seemed noticeably disappointed. She was in the mood for a confrontation, and she tried her utmost to instigate. To her dismay, the white guy didn’t cooperate. Technically, it is against the rule to stand over the white line. And, yes, I suppose that technically I did just that. After all, my toes are indeed part of my feet. But come on already! People like this shouldn’t have jobs. Let them go back to the jungle and swing from trees or something. Ordinary human beings should not have to suffer just because their great-great grandparents picked cotton for some rich white dude in Alabama.
I took a much-needed day off today (Thursday, 2/5), so I didn’t have to deal with the rush-hour commute. However, as I went about my day, I couldn’t help but think about transit.
Well, sort of.
I noticed how the subway is different than every other daily routine, in one very striking way. Here’s a test: What do the bank, the post office, the corner grocery, the cleaners, the barber, the DMV, an amusement park ride and the telephone number for a company’s customer service all have in common? (By the way, this is not a summary of my day, in case you were wondering.) Answer: Everyone is subject to the following rule: First come, first served. Yes, the person who has been waiting the longest gets serviced before everyone else. Anything else would simply be a violation of fairness. People who cut lines are the scum of the earth. You heard it here. You can even quote me on that.
In complete contrast is the New York City subway. When a packed train pulls into a station and a seated passenger gets up and exits, there is a single factor that determines who inherits that hard plastic throne. What is it? Does the passenger who has been standing the longest get it (in accordance with the above rule)? How about someone who, at the previous station, gave his seat to an elderly passenger? Perhaps it is based on who will remain on the train the longest? No, no, and no. It is based, purely and consistently, on luck. The lucky passenger who, at that very moment, happens to be standing in the most strategic position to the vacant seat gets it. It’s not just about proximity. You need to be close to the seat and also have a favorable angle to maneuver into it. This crucial element must not be overlooked. Sometimes you have everything going for you, but the departing passenger walks right at you, causing you to step to the side, which prevents you from pouncing. Come to think of it, there is so much luck involved with getting a seat on the train, I am convinced that if everyone aboard was by nature an unlucky person, they’d all be standing and the seats would remain empty. Even if mathematically there’s room to sit, you still need luck on your side to be able to get a seat. Yeah, that’s what it is. Luck.
It’s always an adventure getting off the bus and into the subway, particularly during rush hour. You have an entire bus full of anxious New Yorkers, all in a great haste to descend beneath the surface of the earth. It is not uncommon to see people pushing and yelling at each other in an effort to get down the stairs and then onto those overstuffed train cars. Today was worse than usual. In addition to the usual crush of people going down the stairs, there were also a bunch of people climbing back above ground. And then I witnessed something terrible. Just a few feet in front of me, an elderly woman got knocked down during this slamming-of-bodies ritual, and she hit the ground hard. Very hard. A couple of good samaritans helped her to her feet, but she seemed to be in a great deal of pain. She had an awful limp as well. Then, of course, everyone continued hurrying down the stairs, as if nothing had happened. No, Toto, we are certainly not in Kansas anymore. Welcome to New York.
Some people enjoy hearing themselves speak. They like the way their voice sounds. City buses are equipped with a sort of intercom system, where the driver is able to make an announcement over the hand-held phone-shaped loudspeaker. They rarely utilize this system because it’s pointless. Well, today on the Q46, the driver was all over it. After picking us up from the corner of Union and Main, he reached for that piece with an enthusiasm I have rarely seen, and declared, “The time is now 7:31. Queens Boulevard will the next and final stop, transfer available to the E and F trains, and several Queens bus lines.” He put down the phone and I thought that was it. I was wrong. A minute later he picked it up again and announced, “The time is now 7:32. Thank you for riding the MTA. Wishin’ you all a wonderful day, a good and a blessed one.” I think that as a child, this dude had hopes of one day becoming a motivational speaker, or at least a professional voice-over guy. But, alas, life can be cruel sometimes, and his dreams were crushed, forcing him to settle for a position as bus operator. I bet he doesn’t view himself as a bus driver; he probably sees himself as an orator who happens to drive a bus while he preaches.
I am still trying to comprehend the enormity of the impending doom. I know that this day’s been inevitable for the past two-and-a-half months, but I’m still having difficulty coming to terms with it. Perhaps I’m in a semi-state of shock. B. Hussein O. is about to become president of the United States. Shame on you, America. Whatever horrible things happen during the next few years, you have no one else to blame. You did this to yourselves. You know, maybe this whole democracy thing is a bad idea after all. Make sure your passports are current. G-d help us all.