You ever have one of those morning when the alarm goes off, and you curse at the ceiling some of the best profanity that comes to your groggy slow mind? Yep, I did this very morning. It was gently snowing outside, I was perfectly comfortable under my three hundred million blankets, and yet delightfully cool air circulated in the apartment. This is the best combination of winter sleeping if you ask me. If my bed could sing, it would be singing a soft melody of “come back to bed Alechia, where it’s nice and warm and its….” well I don’t have a word to rhyme with warm and beds can’t sing anyway but you catch my drift. Well after this kind of morning, you kind of hope you have nowhere left to go but up. These are fallacies we tell ourselves so that we shower, get dressed, and go to work like responsible adults.
So at my subway stop, I was thinking morbid thoughts of: if somehow the subway flooded with water, like the movie Atonement (spoiler! Where she dies in the tunnel and her corpse is swimming about and sad music plays because this really is the most dreadtastic movie of tragic circumstances), would I live? No, probably not which is why I believe New Yorkers should limit themselves on subway use in case a giant flood comes so they won’t drown in a subway flooding. Is it likely? Possibly not. Should we be ready? Of course!
Also, I worry that either somehow will run past me in a hurry and knock me off the platform, or a rather large person who has no concept of their largeness as well, and since they are rather large, they will watch sadly as a subway car hits me because they cannot bend down to lift me up. These are the thoughts I have, which are insane, yes, but terrifying as well. And I know that bit about large people is quite mean sounding and believe me, it’s not a big people joke because I know that life, but seriously, there are big people in NYC that are just far too aggressive about getting a seat on public transit. I mean I’ve gotten pushed around, shoved here and there because of these crazily aggressive people, let alone the bigger ones who just don’t give a f-k.
Moving on, I noticed a woman eat half her bagel this morning on the subway, and then as we got off at the same stop, she threw the other half away. Let me repeat that. She threw it away, and nothing warranted that. I just wanted to take it out of the garbage, run after her and then shove it in her mouth. There are people dying anorexic woman who throws away perfectly good food in pursuit of a slimmer shape, even though if you lost weight you might blow away in the wind. So save it for tomorrow’s breakfast or something, or give it to one of the many homeless people in NYC, it’s not like you don’t see them. And thus began my rage of terror.
Now, I wouldn’t say I’m an angry person, but I will say people are frustrating. And you cannot escape them in NYC because there are people everywhere, all the time, doing frustrating things like passing out fliers when your hands are already full of groceries and you say no thanks politely, but they keep trying to give you a coupon for gold jewelry at this outlet store in the Bronx. I won’t begin to tell you how frustrating that is, because if it’s small, and the interaction lasts maybe 25 seconds at most, it still annoys the sugar-honey-iced-tea out of me. And I never used behave this way, and if any of you are reading this and guffawing because I’ve always been that kind of person who gets rubbed the wrong way over little things (which is sometimes true, and I never meant to yell at most, ok some, of those people, especially the nice Crocs lady at the booth in Providence Place Mall, she meant well) then I mean to say, I wasn’t always this bad.
It’s just one of those days. If only my bed could sing me a melody home that would mute these people and places I still have to hear and see before I get there. But then beds couldn’t sing, and if they could I think mine would sing something like, “oh please buy a new comforter set because these simply do not match…..” Again, no rhymes.