Archive for the 'New York City' Category

Year 2045: Subway Pervert Flashes Penis, No One Notices

A short history of recent moments in subway riding.  All accounts are accurate.  Dates are absolutely made up.

September 15, 2002

11:15 A.M.:  A pigeon walks onto the 1 train at 242nd street and gets off at 215th street.  What a lazy feathery sack of bird shit.

April 20, 2003

5:30 P.M.:  During afternoon rush hour, a stranger gains access to the p.a. system.  “We are on 140 motha-fuckin 5th street.  Eat my motha-fuckin dick.”  Everyone laughs, except three tourists from the midwest.

September 3, 2003

11:35 P.M.:  I stole a Chappelle’s Show subway poster.  It hung in my dorm room for two years.

November 10, 2003

6:25 P.M.:  It was a busy night.  First, there was a three piece mariachi band, then a woman trying to sell batteries in plastic wrap, then a stuttering guy insisted on telling me a Michael Jackson joke, “What did the man on the beach say to Michael Jackson?  Hey!  Get out of my sun.”

December 11, 2003

4:00 A.M.:  Friend goes in-between cars to smoke a cigarette.  Decides to stay in-between cars for duration of half hour trip.  Every time the subway door opens, we hear snippets of a heartfelt rendition of Jessie’s girl.

July 10, 2003

10:00 A.M.:  Skinny girl, glances mistakingly at fat girl on the 6 train.  Fat girl responds, “Don’t look at me bitch, I got grandkids older than you.”  Skinny girl gets up and punches fat girl right in the face.  A geeky guy wearing cargo shorts  with a tucked in polo shirt frantically hits the red emergency button to report the melee.  I laugh.

May 5, 2004

8:00 P.M.:  While sitting on the couch eating UTZ snack mix, a female friend tells me about guy across from her on a train, who placed his penis out of his pants.  She is mortified, nothing happens to the guy.

August 2004 – June 2005

I leave New York City for a really long time

October 23, 2005

1:10 A.M.:  Getting sleepy, I accidentally pass out on the 1 train for 100 blocks.  I wake up surrounded by four rather large woman.  Nextel walkie-talkies were on the brink of extinction, until a muffled voice woke me from a Bud Ice induced fog.  “Who you with, where you at?”  “I said, who you with, where you at?”  Groggily, I waited for the woman to hit the respond, leaned over and chimed in, “SHE’S WITH ME!”  I made four friends that night and one great big enemy.

January 7, 2006

2:00 A.M.:  My friend receives a birthday card from his sister with a $100 bill.  As a group, we leave the bar and head back uptown.  No longer able to hold his bladder, my friend  wanders in-between subway cars to pee.  A man approaches him and shows a police badge.  They get off at the next stop; we forget about him.  Man shows him a gun and demands money.  Friend now realizes it was a fake badge.  Man takes birthday money and hands him back the card.  Friend waits 50 minutes for next train.

February 2008 – September 2010

Giants win Super Bowl 42, and again, I leave New York City for a really long time.

January 13, 2011

Time unknown:  Homeless man falls asleep on subway and rat crawls on his face:  Ewwww!

June 17, 2045

11:15 A.M.:  Pervert hangs dong on crowded subway- becomes saddened when repulsive act goes unnoticed because straphangers are occupied with I-Pod 40, and 3-D sunglasses with built in TV.  Fed up by the lack of attention, the man becomes frustrated and decides to steal everyones wallet instead.

Die De San Valentin

“Welcome to the Grace Hotel.  Here is your room key.  There is a private party here tonight, but guests of the hotel are welcome to attend.”  Wouldn’t it be grand if this were the greeting at all hotels?

For Valentine’s Day this year I booked a room in the city and some how ended up in Spain at one of Stewie Griffin’s Sexy Parties.

As usual I never know what to expect in the city, but if you are looking for a place to crash with a swim-up bar and a detoxifying sauna, then check out the Grace Hotel in Times Square.  You never hear about places like this when you are a resident, but what do I know.  Since I left,  dumpster swimming in Brooklyn became the latest trend.

After dinner and drinks, Kate and I arrived back at the hotel and were greeted by a tiny man with a clip board.  Expectedly, we were not on the list, thus uninvited to the sexy party, until the bouncer overruled him and said right this way…

Essentially it felt like we escaped the U.S. and had a private party for two.   No one looked our way, we were American and straight.  Nevertheless, we enjoyed two free hours of open bar courtesy of this dude.

Crazy or Beautiful?

“In New York, you are constantly faced with this very urgent decision that you have to make, about every twenty minutes… You have to go ‘Oh my god!  Do I look at the most beautiful woman in the world or the craziest guy in the world?’”  – David Cross

This quote is a reminder of my days in New York City.   In no particular order, here is a selection of six typical odd balls you may come in contact with on the streets of NYC on a regular basis.

The Sleeper

It is no secret that The Sleeper is tired.  He does not care where he is going to sleep and what his bed will consist of  church steps, parks, underground tunnels and subway seats, which seem to be the bed of choice.  He does not bother anyone and we don’t bother him. The sleeper’s bed is his fortress, whether it consists of two pieces of cardboard or a stick hut carefully constructed by beavers.  Although he is usually sleeping, I would love to see his face when he discovers my carefully placed leftovers, next to his box. Cheers to you… man who hasn’t moved an inch or said a word in 13 years.

The Crazy Screaming Man in the Middle of the Road

I think this title speaks for itself.  *On a side note, he is my favorite crazy person. He is far enough away from me that he does not ask for money.  If he did ask for money I wouldn’t be able to understand him anyways.  He is deathly skinny and often resembles Jesus.  If you look at him funny or yell back at him he may decide to chase you down, but you probably can out-run him because he will either:

  1. Get hit by a car
  2. Die from exhaustion after seven strides.

The Entrepreneur

He or she has most likely collected cans at one point in life, but it is time for bigger and better enterprises.  Since selling cans did not make enough profit, they decided to foolishly start selling batteries packaged in saran wrap or unconvincing “pure” bottled water.  I know you are  a wizard who could have easily transported the water from Fiji with the sway of your precious wand, but I am onto you buddy!  I swear I saw you siphoning it from a puddle in Central Park.  Please do us all a favor and go back to collecting cans.   And PLEASE leave the sleeper alone, he does not want a job (I love it when I see two crazy guys trying to combine forces).

Shoeless The Entertainer

The way you jingle your  change cup and sing “I’m a Maniac” in your raspy smoker’s voice- it puts a smile on my face every time.  The crowded subway is your stage and you make it known, whether it’s with a tasteless Michael Jackson joke or a not so magical magic trick. You always seem to grab my attention.  Next time when I give you change, don’t tell me it’s for Viagra, you are only like 33 years old.

The Homeless Guy Who Is Perfectly Fine Being Homeless.

This man can be found shirtless with the best tan ever. He wears a rag for underwear and lives in some picturesque tropical destination, right on the beach.  He is immune to rattle snake venom, box jellyfish stings, e coli, deadly flies and just about anything else.  Sometimes when I picture him on a beautiful beach, while I am home in the New York winters, I get extremely jealous.

The Crazy Guy Flying Signing The Sign

When I was five years old I saw this man in Times Square and his sign read:  “Need money for Beer, Hooker and Drugs…I Ain’t Bullshittin!”  It is no secret that you started a revolution because now I see a different guy with that sign at least three times a week.  If that is still actually you after all these years and you have not died of HIV or liver damage, then boy do I have a frosty Old English with your name on it! Tell the guy with the “Insult me for 2 dollars sign” to copyright his sign, before the clones take over.

Note:  I miss living in New York City


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