Best Day Ever

Is not the description that I would use to describe Monday, September 12, 2005.

Instead today was just one of those days that could not end quickly enough. In addition to it being a Monday, which meant that there was no way for it NOT TO SUCK, today featured me at work until 7:15 PM trying to complete response papers to a plaintiff's motion, which I received at Friday at 5:30 PM, that is scheduled for oral argument tomorrow morning. Now this would have been manageable on any other day if I had not spent my entire morning in Court conferencing various cases and only returning to my office to handle this disaster well into the afternoon. Adding to the time sensitivity of this matter, the upper management in Manhattan took particular notice of this motion due to the issues that it involves and thus, I had the added stress of being under their constant scrutiny. (Note: I would tell you what the motion is about but that is confidential and I would have to kill you.) As a result of this scrutiny, I had to make sure that whatever I wrote today had to be crafted in such a way that it conformed with the big wigs' infinite wisdom and strategy on how to deal with this issue. Of course, I know that if we end up losing tomorrow, it will still be my ass on the line because it is easier to blame the old low man on the totem pole instead of the big guns, who decided on the strategy in the first place. (Note: As is the case with most jobs, my place of employment seems to not believe in the concept of personal accountability.)

Anyway, I rolled out of the office around 7:20 in hopes that I could get home before 8 in order to get a decent meal and just try to forget about the entire day in order to salvage what remained of my day. In order for this to be a reality, I had to first make it home, which required a little assistance from two of my favorite entity, the MTA and its baby, the New York City Transit system. (Note: The subways and the MTA are not actually departments of the City of New York nor are they managed by the City of New York as the MTA is actually its own autonomous corporation, separate, apart, and distinct from the City of New York so when you complain to the City about the subways really the MTA is the entity, who needs to be contacted. PHEW... I am tired after that one... I think I just passed out...)

After I entered the Jay Street Subway Station, however, I quickly realized that the subway gods were conspiring against me and that my attempt to get home before 8 was nothing more than a pipe dream as I observed my fellow subway patrons standing four deep awaiting the next Queens-bound A or C train. Unfortunately, once the A train arrived things went from awful to fucken really awful because the train instead of departing the station immediately after everyone boarded simply waited in the station with its doors open as the cars quickly filled up and reached rider capacity.

Thankfully, the MTA, which is the master of public relations, made this situation as painless as possible as their employees proceeded to scream in interesting versions of barely understandable English on both the station and subway car intercoms, "THE NEXT STOP WILL BE HOYT AND SCHERMERHORN STREET, PLEASE STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS... PLEASE STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS..." Of course, the doors did not close... nor did the train move... As such, the MTA should have just had their employees yell, "LISTEN YOU STUPID MOTHER FUCKERS... THIS TRAIN AIN'T MOVIN... WE HAVE NO FUCKEN CLUE WHY THE TRAIN AIN'T MOVIN... BUT WE DO KNOW THAT IT AIN'T GONNA MOVE FOR QUITE SOME TIME... SO EITHER YOU IGNORANT MOTHER FUCKERS CAN GET OFF THE MOTHER FUCKEN TRAIN AND FIND AN ALTERNATE WAY TO GET YOUR SORRY WORKING LATE ASSES TO WHEREEVER THE FUCK YOU ARE GOING OR YOU CAN STAND ON THE TRAIN AND STARE AT EACH OTHER WONDERING WHEN THIS TRAIN IS GOING TO MOVE... BUT WHO THE FUCK KNOWS WHEN THAT WILL BE... NOT US... THAT IS FOR MOTHER FUCKEN SURE..."

As an added door prize to this lack of communication and/or effort from the MTA was the fact that the train had now been waiting for ten minutes in the station with the doors wide open providing ample time for my fellow man to play a rousing game of "Come On, We Can Fit One More." (Note: this game invented originally on college campuses throughout America with phone booths was brought to New York City in the early 80's by a group of Yalies, who wanted to have a little fun after a hearty night of drinking and reach arounds.) Today, this game can be found atleast twice a day during the morning and the afternoon rush hour when subway patrons attempt to squeeze as many people into each subway car no matter how full that car maybe nor how badly its occupants stink of body odor. (Note: I will never play this game nor will I ever comprehend it, mainly because I have no interest adding to the human crush in a subway car and even less interest in smelling the various flavors of ass that is contained therein.)

After realizing that my train was not leaving any time soon, I decided to circumvent the use of the A train and got on the next Brooklyn bound F train across the platform so that I could transfer to the G train at either the Bergen Street or Carroll Street stations. Thankfully, the F train came quickly and I departed this train at Carroll Street to transfer to a Queens bound G train...

Of course, the subway system was not done fucking with me... as it clearly had not satisfied its thirst for my blood or my sanity... Instead, as I departed the F train and began to walk to the stairs to transfer to the other side of the platform, the F train began to pull away and that is when it happened.... Because as I walked, I looked up and noticed the conductor of the F train leaning out of the train, glaring at me, and mouthing and I am not kidding about this "ASSHOLE" in my direction. At first I thought that I was clearly mistaken, but when he did it again.... "ASSHOLE"... I pointed to myself and mouthed back in response, "WHO ME?" To which, he responded by simulateneously nodding his head in affirmation... and repeating his declarations of "ASSHOLE, ASSHOLE!!!", two more times before he stuck his head back in the train right before the train disappeared into the tunnel.

Now, if you have read my blog up to this point, it is probably pretty clear that I am an asshole. As a matter of fact, I kind of embrace that role in life, but I never realized that just by looking at me, someone could tell that I am in fact an asshole. Clearly, I was mistaken becuse today, I di nothing more than walk down the subway platform to get to another train and yet that simple action coupled with whatever my face looked like at that particular moment made this conductor peg me correctly as an ASSHOLE!

Now, originally, immediately after this happened, I was irate because as discussed in amazingly boring detail above, I was already pretty pissed off about how my evening was already going. Therefore, it was not in anyone's best interest to add to my internal anger. As a result, I considered a variety of options including but not limited to attempting to chase the train down and boaring it in order to tear this guy's throat open with my teeth. Of course, this thought quickly left my mind as I do not truly have a taste for human blood and because I probably would have killed myself in the process. More seriously, I considered filing some form of complaint against this conductor by reporting him to the ticket booth. Of course, then, I thought about what would actually be done if I did complain and decided that the best I could hope for is that my complaint would become bulletin board comedy for all the train conductors on the F line who probably pull similar stunts on a daily basis just to break up the monotony of driving a fucken train all day long or possibly as some suckier MTA version of Punked.

And I guess that is when I realized the pure genius of what this conductor had done. I mean clearly he was trying to elicit some type of response whether it be shock, anger, or both by calling me an ASSHOLE. Further, he knew that there was pretty much nothing I could do about it because he was on a moving train and I did not appear to have the stunt capabilities of Jackie Chan. And in the end, why the fuck not call me an asshole, I mean I am one, but even more importantly, driving a train as stated above, must be pretty boring at times and maybe this clever act of lunacy brightened up his day or atleast provided a laugh for him and the boys over a couple of suds at Choo Choo Charlie's Bar and Grill or whatever the name of their watering hole is...

So if I was to bring just a little bit of sunshine to their worthless little lives, I feel like my commute home this evening was for the greater good regardless of the pain that it caused me. Of course, it would have been alot better if the MTA simply got its shit together and did not turn my thirty minute commute into an hour and a half affair.... but I guess that might be a bit too much to ask from an entity whose employees feel the need to fill the voids in their meaningless lives by calling unsuspecting strangers... assholes... but then again, I am one... and at the end of the day, that is really all that matters in this entire situation... isn't it?