Subway Tales

My day started with a refined looking older gentleman sporting an expensive coat, old school hat and some impressively gigantic jowls, whining on the train because some lady had the nerve to squeeze into the space next to him.

“There isn’t enough room!” he whined. “You should stand until you can sit down properly.” She looked at him like he’d said, “My God, the last time I saw a face like that was on a stick at a Chinese market!” and refused to budge.

This is the New York subway, Quentin Crisp, be grateful she didn’t stab you in the kishkas and steal your rather fey chapeau.

Myself? I had the pleasure to be seated next to some guy who smelled like a fruity mixture of Old Pee and Old Spice – quite the sexy combination. He was wearing some really tinny, nasty headphones and blasting some god-awful hippy music that made me want to grab the overhead bar, swing from it like a gorilla and kick the dude square in the nuts. Would it hurt you to take a bath, fella? Would the world end, Stinkmeister?

To make matters worse one of my bras had recently gone through the drier accidentally, which distorted the hook in the back, so mid way through my commute I stretched slightly and it unhinged and pinged open in the back, freeing the hounds as it were. Thank God for big winter coats. I mean if you’ve got cute little A Cup boobies it wouldn’t be an issue but when you’re a C/D cup like me, all manner of nastily embarrassing bounce-age can occur if you let it. Think two fighting puppies in a sack! I’m sorry, did I gross everyone out with that visual? Good!

No Dark Überlord today, I’m happy to say, as he had a pressing engagement elsewhere. Sadly not “pressing” as in “pinned under a train” but it is only noon and one can live in hope. Nonetheless a welcome sanity break for me.

And really, a sane Guv’ner is a happy Guv’ner.