Monday, December 05, 2005

In My Time Of Dying

Sometimes I like to take a nap on my way into the city. I usually sit in the same seat on the 7:10 train, all the way in the back, so that when I get out, I can ascend the stairs straight onto 7th Avenue.

This morning, the train arrived early. Someone occupied my favorite seat, so I chose one of those two seater seats near the door. I tucked myself into the corner, put on my headphones and drifted off.

Next thing I know, at Massapequa, some schmuck jams himself next to me, waking me up. Then, just as I begin to drift off again, he busts out a slice of French Toast wrapped in tin foil and starts eating. A few minutes later, the carbs kick in, and this guy can't fucking sit still. He's fidgeting worse than my kids. When we reached Jamaica, I knew all the guys who work for the railroad were going to get up, so I pretended to get up, forcing him to get up. He bumped into them and fell on the floor. I walked to the next car and found an empty seat, snickering the whole way.