Sheepshead Bay II: Stranger in a Strange Land

So to continue my tale of woe, I rode the Q into the deepest and darkest parts of Brooklyn. I was told that where I was going I would be some where near Coney Island, which basically meant that in terms of my knowledge about Brooklyn, I would be somewhere between the middle and FUCKEN NO WHERE. I do know that on my way, I went over the Manhattan Bridge, which is otherwise known as the Bridge I have never used. During this voyage, I believe I went through some parts of Brooklyn where I easily could have found a convenient way to get shot by just getting off the train and being white. (I am not being racist as that was not the intention of that comment, there are just places in Brooklyn where it is very easy for your ass to get SMOKED.)

Interesting note: most of my trip was on a subway car that was above ground. Now, I am not sure how most people feel about this but to me, it is always weird when I am on a subway ca above ground. I mean I love it, but for some reason, I feel like I have done something wrong or am somehow betraying my fellow man because instead of smelling urine and sitting in darkness, I am actually smelling urine but the sun is shining in. It fucks with a person I guess.

Anyway, I finally arrived in the Bay after a good half an hour on the train and found myself in Brooklyn's own Russian enclave. I mean everywhere I turned there were signs in Russian and the name Vladimir was the only name that appeared on any of the Real Estate signs. But yet no signs of either sheep or their heads. Surprisingly, I had a pleasant walk from the subway station to the location of my deposition albeit 20 minutes. Apparently the MTA feels that since this is the land that time and the thawing of the Cold War forgot, only one train within a thirty minute walking distance is sufficient. Of course this is the same MTA that thinks that suspending trains during the Holiday Season on the weekends nonetheless is easily justified especially when it is the only train that gets me and people like me from Brooklyn into Manhattan and vice versa...I love them guys....Thankfully, the only thing that saved me from turning around, going back to the office, and savagely beating my boss who sent me out into Siberia was the Dunkin Donuts that I found located right next to the location of the deposition. And one extra large Hazelnut Coffee black, I was a happy little camper...

And even though, I will be posting the next part of this saga in just a bit (read: years, it could be years).... I end El Douce right here...