I threw a book on someone’s head today.
The NYC subway is generally a icky and unpleasant place– especially during the winter months. It’s freezing, slippery and as hard as it is to believe, New Yorkers are even more unfriendly than usual. You step into a crowed train and you’re immediately smashed by a bunch of other people who likewise have no desire to be pushed up against you (hopefully.) And yet, there you are, trapped awkwardly. Then there are those people who act like you’re on-purpose and viciously trying to take up room on the train. Fall back. I don’t need you glaring at me for not taking up negative space in this sardine can of a train!
If you’re short like me, maybe someone’s butt is pushed up against your back. Or maybe someone’s belly is pushing up against your arm. Or quite possibly both are happening at the same time- as has been the unfortunate case with me. People be smelling weird, you can feel people breathing on you and depending what train you’re on everything smells like hobo piss… it’s the absolute worst. Moreover, I can’t be the only one who hates touching a pole after someone’s warm, greasy hand has been on it…
But every once in awhile something ridiculous happens and it just changes the mood of your whole day. Here I am running late, trying to figure out if there’s some awful and unexpected “train delay” that actually matters to my commute and also trying to decipher the confusing, gibber-gabber announcements blasting in the station. It might as well be Chinese. So, fully accepting I may be stuck here awhile, I sit down awkwardly, leaning against the side of the wooden bench- not wanting my full butt to sit down on the assumed dirty seating… trying to mind my own business and not make eye contact under any circumstances. I start reading Mindy’s Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) and next thing I know BAM. My book has somehow flown into the air and landed right on some dude’s head. Mind you, he was nowhere near me.
The real problem? Those lighting fast reflexes you suddenly get when something slips out of your hands and you spaz the f out… you start playing some kind of primitive version of hot potato and it’s game over. Luckily, after I beaned this guy in the head with my book, he flashed me a nice smile, reassuring me he was okay. Clearly he could tell I nearly died of embarrassment. Thankfully, he didn’t again turn around after I had profusely apologized, because I was barely able to contain my laughter at the fact that I just nailed this guy out of nowhere- all while trying to keep to myself waiting for my train. I want to say nothing like this has ever happened before, but let’s be real, of course it has. And so goes my commute!