Ah yes, not quite as exciting as the last one, but worth a moment round the campfire.


Even though I was still sick this morning, when I got to the 6 train I wasn't in a bad mood.


Until,


the train pulled up and I got on. There was a teenage couple to my left not more than say seven inches away. The guy turned toward the girl and said "Wow, you must be happy for the first time ever you are not the shortest person." Now this in and of itself wouldn't have been quite so bad if he hadn't repeated it at least three times while I was standing there as if I was not just short, but also deaf and stupid. I happen to be neither. I am, however, conscience impaired and I quite possibly might have gone to work with my hands freshly christened in blood if they hadn't gotten off the train.


Later in the day, I was on my way to Penn Station as I am spending my weekend with Mere Lapin. I patiently waited for the C. When it came, this couple cut in front of me. OK fine the guy was so focused on the girl he didn't fucking see me at all. I can live with that, but then they were ambling so slowly that the subway car doors almost closed on him twice. Meanwhile I'm behind him saying excuse me. If you don't care about making this train, ok, but you know the rest of us having a fucking schedule so if you could take your leisurely ass out of our collective way it would be really appreciated. So I, all four foot six of me, had to muscle my way into this car and not just through the door, but also through the paralytic/comatose fourteen year old boy who apaprently couldn't fathom the concept of moving to the side so that I could get through. So I'm holding onto this pole, and the car is filling up. Now unlike other subway riders, I can not "strap hang." I am far too small, but I need something to hold onto in order to balance. Usually other riders understand and use the "strap" bar and allow me to use the poles. Not today. Meanwhile there is this guy wearing a nice suit, but shuffling a deck of cards and staring straight ahead saying to no one that his father was a nazi and some other things I couldn't quite hear. Finally I am twisted like a double helix desperately trying to keep a hold on the pole so I don't fall on my ass when I feel this stare. I turn to look without thinking and Mr. Forgot My Meds with the Nazi Dad is looking right at me. This is exactly what I need- to get involved with who's who in psychotic episodes on my way to upstate NY. But he says in this gentle voice "Excuse me miss, but do you need a seat?" And he gets up and offers me his seat. This is what NYC has come to. Only a fucking insane person would offer his/her seat on the subway.


These are just two of a now overwhelming sea of reasons why I want to leave NY.