Got Milk?

We have a momma's boy with us today. Well, I believe this poor slob is really a browbeaten, hen-pecked husband, but I can't be absolutely sure.  I just quietly observed him carrying on a conversation with someone who spoke so loudly on the other end that one would think the cell phone was on loudspeaker. Well, to make a long story short....there was a whole lotta talk about milk. Yep, you heard me. This guy has been firmly instructed....no, rather charged with the sacred duty of obtaining a gallon of milk on his way home. It is possible that he has failed at this noble venture before, hence the emphatic, loud and repeated exaltations on the other end of the phone to achieve success. I'm not sure why this woman was so loud, as clearly we could have rioted and injured her husband in punishment for her big mouth and the breaking of the auditory peace. Perhaps she believes if the rest of the car knows he is supposed to get milk on the way home, we might give him a final reminder before we all disembark the train?

Holy Moley

I'm not sure what classification this one goes in....perhaps just as a scientific curiousity or maybe a sideshow. Anyhow, I chose wisely today and I'm on an end-cap of a 3-seater with *ahem* extremely big-boned woman on the window. She's fully decked out in Pepto-Bismol pink and the one wrist that is exposed shows several too-small gold bracelets struggling to remain clasped while being separated by individual rolls of fat. After we hit the tunnel she fell asleep in such record time one would suspect narcolepsy. It is then that, as her head shifted towards me, I observed her opposite cheek sported an Uncle Buck-sized facial mole, adorned with 4 long hairs. Yes, it was so big I could count them even out of the corner of my eye because, you know, its not polite to stare. As she took it down for her first REM cycle, her mouth flopped open and the intake of each breath caused the 4 mole hairs to be gently bent inwards. Each exhale made them flip the other way, waving madly but in a tight, almost choreographed formation....sort of like the follicular equivalent of the Electric Slide. Actually, I just realized I am staring now....ah well, manners can't take precedence over the serious journalistic reporting I'm doing here anyway.  The public has to know these things...

Assault with a Dreadly Weapon

Its only 8:35AM on this fine Thursday morning and I've already been assaulted by dreadlocks. Its kind of like a jellyfish attack, there's not much you can do but hope it ends soon so you can pursue medical attention. I have a rasta bobble head in the middle of my three-seater and while I can appreciate her need to sleep, I am getting ready to administer my third shoulder-bump of the morning, immediately followed by the tight-eyebrow glare AND conclude with the overly-loud-sigh-of-exasperation. That's my Mortal Kombat-esque finishing move, I gots me no more in the tool box of trainride weaponry after this.

If she still continues this behavior, I'll have to see about tag-teaming with the guy on the end seat who just got bobbled from the other direction. We just exchanged a very expressive mutual eye-roll, so at least I know I'm not the only soldier in this battle. 

I'm sure Rumsfeld never imagined a theater of war could exist on a passenger train.  Perhaps I should write an op-ed for the Pentagon on evasive maneuvers and tactical strategy.  I'm sure West Point will be calling any minute now, so I'll be keeping the lines free. 

Biblical Groundhog Day

Bible lady again for like the third time in a month, bright purple bag, blood red nails, little hat affixed slightly askew. I think we are becoming friends, you know, the kind that don't talk or know each other's names. She's a damn middle seat sitter, thus inviting just any old person to sit on the end cap. No strategy, no game play, she folds before the hand even starts. Maybe the middle seat has some special significance, perhaps its holy. The Church of the Middle Seat. Hallelujah! Praise the MTA!

Cakeburgler

On the train in a 3/2 seat combo facing a guy who has two huge bakery boxes on his right knee, just inches from my hands. He's telling the guy next to him that he's a bakery wholesaler and opened the box to show him the goods. He is now describing some sort of chocolate layered torte to this guy. I'm quietly trying to pretend like I'm not eavesdropping but the telltale puddle of drool on my knee is a dead giveaway

Space Invaders

Yeah, you read me right but I'm not talking about the vintage 80's video game. I'm talking about the living (mouth)breathing type of Space Invader. On a train car, that manifests itself in several ways. One common type of Space Invader is the inevitable Leaner. These creatures typically get on at Farmingdale just when you think you escaped a middle-seatmate and squeeze in the middle of your triple. Even though they seem to have some leeway on the starboard side, they lean on you anyway.  You are forced to wage a silent and unacknowledged battle for elbow room. By switching your travel mug to your center arm and taking frequent sips of coffee, the constant friction of your jacket sleeve can deplete their life force and cause them to retreat back to their allotted space. Another well-known type of space invader is the Lap-Bagger. These are the people who rest their laptop bags on their laps upon being seated and promptly fall into an immediate coma. Only then do you realize that the diameter of their bag exceeds their lap size and they have hangage over each side. These creatures also tend to leave their shoulder straps dangling to fwap maddeningly against your kneecap. Gentle nudging of the hangage of their bag, closely timed with the swaying of the train so you aren't caught, is the way to combat this creature. Of course you may earn the ire of the passenger on the other side who now has even more excess hangage, but you can feel proud at your bold move in striking first, and be sure that guy is probably blogging about you and the fact that you ruined his day anyway.

The Messiah

One of those religious sorts got got on in Brentwood today. She's sitting in front of me and holding a printed card in her hand I can clearly see from my seat that proclaims "You Are the Generation to See the Messiah Come". Trust me when I say she doesn't look Jewish, and I thought we were the only ones still waiting for this dude to get here. Wait, she just pulled out an appointment book and started wildly flipping through dates and pages, while speaking loudly on her cell phone in tongues. Okay it sounds suspiciously like English overlaid with a thick Caribbean accent, but speaking in tongues sounds more biblical and authentic for this bit anyway. Holy cow, I just thought of something.  Perhaps SHE'S the messiah and she's trying to figure out which date is best to arrive. I would have thought the Messiah would be using Outlook Calendars to plan the big day though, perhaps synching with a Blackberry and letting everyone know he (or she) was finally here via Twitter or FaceBook.  Disappointing....