Things have gotten out of hand. Chaos rules. Order? What order? There's no such thing underground. This all started when a man held his hand on my genitalia for three stops in a crowded subway car. I couldn't move. I wasn't sure if he was doing it on purpose. And I didn't want to make a scene. So I arched my body into a position reserved for Cirque du Soleil performers, hoping to avoid the unwanted touch. It was then that I realized the New York Subway needs some new rules.
Rule #1: Do not grab my junk. While you're at it, don't grab anyone's junk.
Under the right circumstances, I enjoy having someone touch Mr. Winky. And, usually after a night offorced voluntary drinking with a woman, I mention that it might be a fun thing to try out. On par with taking a walk around the block or switching shampoos. "Go ahead," I say, smiling innocently, "take it for a test drive." You'll notice that I don't include some strange man who looks like he came out of the NAMBLA Board of Directors in this occasion. I don't like being touched period (again, unless it's by a hot chick, preferably one with a trust fund and a yacht). And I sure as shit don't want Dr. McDickgrabber gettin' all touchy feely with my nether regions. At least offer to pay me for the grope.
Rule #2: Stinky armpits require a lower grasp.
Don't confuse this with what I've just discussed in Rule #1. If you think your armpits might smell, keep 'em down. Don't go for the over-head reach bar. That's a bad move all around. You belong on the middle pole, grasping firmly at stomach level. No one in the car needs that waft of onion/sauerkraut breezing out of your Giants tank top.
Rule #3: Do not sing.
This covers a huge contingent of people. From the iPod listening goth kids belting out how much they hate their parents, yet worship their nose rings, to the roving band of Mexicans that seem to be on every single car I ride, I don't need to listen to your music. I've talked about this before, and I meant it then.
Rule #4: Hand Dropping.
There's a lot of hand topics today, huh? Well, this one concerns people holding the bar. Riders' hands should not touch. If you feel your hand might be sliding down the bacteria and rash-inducing pole, it's your duty to move it north so as not to connect with my steady and non-genitalia grabbed hand. I don't know where your hand has been, but I could paint some pictures of the lonely nights I've spent with my hand that would make sure stay firm on the pole.
Rule #5: Don't Watch Me Play My Game.
I have enough pressure trying to get that mis-shapen block to rest correctly on the nook I designed for it, I don't need you watching over my shoulder to make sure my Tetris skills are up to par. If you're so hard up for attention, why not buy a phone that'll let you play games, or listen to the Mexican guy with the accordion play Margarita, Margarita.
Under the right circumstances, I enjoy having someone touch Mr. Winky. And, usually after a night of
Rule #2: Stinky armpits require a lower grasp.
Don't confuse this with what I've just discussed in Rule #1. If you think your armpits might smell, keep 'em down. Don't go for the over-head reach bar. That's a bad move all around. You belong on the middle pole, grasping firmly at stomach level. No one in the car needs that waft of onion/sauerkraut breezing out of your Giants tank top.
Rule #3: Do not sing.
This covers a huge contingent of people. From the iPod listening goth kids belting out how much they hate their parents, yet worship their nose rings, to the roving band of Mexicans that seem to be on every single car I ride, I don't need to listen to your music. I've talked about this before, and I meant it then.
Rule #4: Hand Dropping.
There's a lot of hand topics today, huh? Well, this one concerns people holding the bar. Riders' hands should not touch. If you feel your hand might be sliding down the bacteria and rash-inducing pole, it's your duty to move it north so as not to connect with my steady and non-genitalia grabbed hand. I don't know where your hand has been, but I could paint some pictures of the lonely nights I've spent with my hand that would make sure stay firm on the pole.
Rule #5: Don't Watch Me Play My Game.
I have enough pressure trying to get that mis-shapen block to rest correctly on the nook I designed for it, I don't need you watching over my shoulder to make sure my Tetris skills are up to par. If you're so hard up for attention, why not buy a phone that'll let you play games, or listen to the Mexican guy with the accordion play Margarita, Margarita.
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I'm not defending the guy--cause that's just creepy....
but was the car really, really full, or were you the only two on the car?
If you were the only two in there, you can follow the advice my mom used to give if some guy touched any of us inappropriately..."kick/knee him where it hurts"...
It wasn't the free cancer screening car you hopped onto, was it?
Also, you might want to double check Dave's picture and make sure it wasn't him--better we find out before the election if he's the type of President who would drag our nation through yet another scandal....
I do appreciate you reminding me how great it is to drive in my own car, no matter how high gas prices get...I like my personal space...
I've been through all of this too, Echo, except for the grabbing guy.
What I hate the most is when you're on your own, reading your book and a damn stupid starts to stare at you.
Me - Yes? Can I help you?
Some Dumb Ass - Oh, I saw you are reading... What book is this?
M - This one (almost rubbing it on the imbecile's face).
SDA - Aw... OK... I don't know this author. I'm not keen to books. (interval, just enough time for you to find out where you were until being stopped)
SDA - Are you enjoying the book?
Me - I WAS! I REALLY WAS ENJOYING IT UNTIL YOU INTERRUPTED ME! Something else I can do for you, Mr.?
SDA - Nevermind.
Why people don't let us alone? When you are reading a book, is like an invitation for illiterate people to come and ask which book, whose, or come and say that reading is for those who like it.
Even more, no one have the idea of how the ear buds work.
People start talking to you, despite of those wires hanging out of your ears, with the buds blocking the exterior sounds from entering. And they get angry when you don't respond or ask for them to repeat. Or else those emocores are with the volume so loud that you can hear their shit ten feet away from them. The good is that they'll be deaf in no time, and wont listen to nothing else that louder anymore.
I second on you s1, I'm glad I'm out of public transportation in my commute.
But I go on walking. 30 minutes of peace. No one grabbing me, smelling around, or peeping over my shoulder. Although I can't neither read a book nor play cellphone games, I can go listening to my songs or an audio book and in the hot days, when I'm going back home I can buy me a beer in the supermarket and go on drinking along my way.
That'll teach you to take pictures in your girlfriend's apartment!
Bro, I quit reading after the part where the dude had his hand on your junk and I realised that you didn't do anything about it.
In that type of situation you have got to fix it right there.
This is what you do.
Echo-(medium serious)Hey bro, your hand is on my junk, will you move it?
In 80% of American cities the dude will apologise. In NY, you have only got a 48% chance.
Say he doesn't move it...
Perv-So do you like it???
Echo-(Hard Serious) No, in fact if it's not moved right now you are going to be spitting out teeth.
Perv-But I Like......
SMACK! Echo throws a punch with a left hook landing directly on the jaw bone of the perv., causing the jaw to forcibly strike a nerve at the back of the said perverts head rendering him unconcious. As the perv falls, Echo follows up with an overhand haymaker to the front teeth only keeping his promise of knocking out the other mans teeth.
As the perv lays unconcious on the ground Echo looks up and around at everyone staring and yells: "WHAT? ANYONE ELSE FEEL THE NEED TO TOUCH MY JOHNSON!
As he yells this the crowd pushes completely away trying to avoid eye contact with the crazy Echo. That is everyone but this smokin' hot chick who steps forward and says: You arent going to hit me are you??
Echo smiles and says: Nah baby, lets go over to my girlfriends apartment and take some pictures with my IPhone.
Even when it's not a Dave's Challenge, Dave feels himself challenged to help Echowood.
That's a real friend or what?
My hat's off for you, my president.
Thanks buddy.
Whatever happened to #1??
It's a good question. Haven't seen her since friday.
I was wondering the same thing, Dave. Disappearing in the middle of a campaign is not good.
Maybe #1 needed to take a big dump.
I have another rule to add:
6 - Do not hover around the door unless your stop is next.
7 - Let people on and off the subway (see #6)
8 - After stepping into the subway, move to the middle of the car
It used to make me nuts seeing all the people trying to get into the subway car when there are a bunch of idiots clustering around the door... yet in the middle of the cars one could see there was plenty of room.
9 - Oh, and don't eat fast food - it stinks up the whole car
10 - Subway announcers should have familiarity with the English language*
* Except in Boston where you can't understand a word their saying because of the wicked pissa accent.
I'm here. It took Dave forever to post my bail.
CLC -
You leave while I'm here, then I leave while you're here. People are going to start suspecting a Auncle Bertie thing here if we're not careful. Better clear that up right away ...
:: ahem ::
I hereby declare that I am not a transexual.
Ya know up until a week ago I thought #1 was a dude???
What the hell??
Thanks Tim.
...and neither am I!
Confused......
Dave. I'm not Tim. Tim isn't me.
OK, then we've at least got that straight.
and, might I point out, that we are the only people here so far that have come out and declared our non-transexuality.
That's gotta be a good thing.
Tim, since you are taking a survey, I have to add that I, too, am not a transexual....or transvestite, or anything other trans-related...
it's too much trouble picking out an outfit just as a female...and don't get me started on how women can spot a transvestite much quicker than a straight man can...
Dave, no comment on how confused you've been lately...not going there...
Duly noted.
We now have an official YBNBY tally of three (3) declared non-transexuals.