The trains were a disaster today. I mean, it wasn’t the train really, but our relationship that seemed to be failing. Miserably. Not only did I miss the first train of the day, I missed my transfer train. Then, coming home from the Nuyorican, I think I’m getting lucky. I race upstairs to get my transfer and just squeak in the doors. I almost fall asleep… there I am, all warm and sleepy when the doors whip open at Chamber St. and let in the most obnoxious, fall-down drunk bunch of whack ass hipster kids who really need me to kick them in the teeth. I don’t. I just sit there with my tiny little headache and listen to them recount their night with tipsy tongues. One girl in the shortest skirt I have ever seen decides to take the seat next to me. Her boyfriend who is wearing a suit, ironically I’m sure, takes the seat next to her. In a nearly empty train, this is annoying. I get as close as I can to the edge of the seat because when they start to kiss the noises they make are feral. It was like listening to cat sex. Which is loud and awkward and painful. I close my eyes and try to tune them out by humming the first song that pops in my head.
I’m doing moderately well at this point, really focusing on the chorus of “Paradise City*” when I hear retching noises. My eyes fly open in alarm and I look to my right. What happens next only should happen in horror movies.
The girl is doubled over vomiting her eyeballs out. The smell was the first thing I noticed. I mean, the noise was awful enough, but the smell was unthinkably bad. There she was, puking on the train, sitting uncomfortably close to me. Hell no. I get up and move to the seat farthest away from her as possible. And then I look down at my jeans. And I yell “fucking goddamn fuck.” I had become a victim. She had vomited on my jeans and there was nothing I could do about it. At this point I’m boiling mad. Furious. Want to kill everything in sight. So I look over at her and glare. She’s dry-heaving at this point. Her boyfriend thing is rubbing her back and whispering sweet things, which I’m sure is really endearing and comforting to her, but I just find it to be disgusting. And so I just start imagining all the pleasant ways I could maim her. Pushing her from the subway platform, clocking her in the head with my bag, kicking her in the teeth… She vomited all the way to my stop. I’m sure she continued to vomit all the way home. Sucks for her.
Whatever. I’m over it. I rinsed my jeans out. I took a shower. I feel better now. Clean, even. All I have to say is that tomorrow, the train better have its shit together or we’re going to have problems. Goodnight.
*Why this is the song my brain chooses, I have no fucking idea.
