This. Morning. Blew.
Every month I buy an unlimited Metro card. It’s just easier that way. I like not having to keep track of how many rides I have left, when I need to refill, yadda yadda yadda. The only problem with that is that I never seem to remember what date I actually purchased said card and therefore spend 2 or 3 days at the end of the month (well, the bought month, that is) cringing every time I swipe my card, wondering if THIS will be the morning it stops working.
Today was that morning.
I swiped, I was out and I left Rachel at the turnstile to jump into the card line. I bought my new card and pressed the button for a receipt. Nothing printed. After waiting a few seconds I just said “eff it” and walked away–I know how much I spent and it’s not like I’m getting reimbursed for this crap; I don’t really need the receipt.
I walked to the turnstile where the woman in front of me was swiping her card. And swiping it. And swiping it. After about 4 or 5 swipes, she turned around and was all “hehehe sorry!” and I had to refrain from yelling “BITCH MOVE!” at her. I think the visual daggers sent the message though and she got out of my way.
I walked down to the platform and scanned for Rachel. Found her. Just then a train was barreling into the station. Perfect timing right? Wrong. It just sped on by.
No worries. We waited, we chatted, we talked about our deep-seated love for Tool Academy and her bearded dog. Then a train pulled in. Too full to get on, so we stepped back. We continued to wait. Rachel told me that she looked up “shorty” on UrbanDictionary yesterday. Another train pulled in. Too full. And yet the people who got there after us were pushing through.
“At the risk of sounding like an old person, I feel like there should be some sort of single file line sitaution or something.” I agreed with Rachel whole-heartedly on that one.
Finally, a fourth train pulled in. It was now 8:46. We shoved our way on to that one and wound up with awkward yet prime positions (aka we were right by a super cute guy. Rush hour has to be good for something, and what is it better for than oggling the pretty boys in their suits?). We crawled to 86th and then to 77th where some guy got shoved and was whining about it. Then we heard the shover say “Well I am SORRY but I HAVE to be on THIS train!” Yeah, dude, we get it. You need to get to work. So do the rest of us. We’re not all crammed in here, getting cozy with strangers, for our health.
We slowly made it to 59th street where I realized a minute too late that I probably should have transferred to the NRW. Oh well. We got to 42nd street with no further incident and Rachel got off the train. I grabbed a seat and rode to 33rd…where they decided to announce that due to delays (What? There was a delay? You’re SHITTING me, MTA!) the next stop on that train would be 14th street. Fan-freaking-tastic.
I stepped off the train and had to immediately dodge a pile of what appeared to vomitted up cranberry juice. Yummy. I attempted to walk down a bit to avoid the vom pile and maybe have a chance at grabbing a less crowded car. I was hugging the wall when this stupid cow of a person (I think it was a woman, but I couldn’t be sure) was walking towards me and just halted in front of me, refusing to move. After a quick standoff I slammed past and muttered “BITCH” loudly enough that he/she/it should have heard me and kept going.
It was now 9:15. EFF! But not to worry because train had just pulled into 33rd street. But, keeping with the theme of the morning, I couldn’t get on it because the damn thing was too full.
I waited a few more minutes for another train to pull into the station. I shoved my way on to that one because at that point I was so over the day that if I didn’t get on THAT train I was getting on an uptown one and calling in sick.
At 9:23 I finally surfaced. A full hour after I left my apartment. I walked down 23rd to my office and hit the construction zone, where everyone but ONE stupid woman on a cell phone was walking against pedestrian traffic. Of course she hit me with her stupid puffy coat and purse. I must have groweled audibly because one of the construction guys, my bad day heroes, said good morning and smiled.
I tried to tone back the scowl on my face after that. And then I started counting down until 2015 and the desparately (at least if this morning was any indicator) needed 2nd avenue line.
Conclusion? 2015 can’t get here soon enough.