Commuter Complaint #4

While religious yammering by crazy yet passionate folk on the subway ranks in the top 5 annoyances of commuting, often these subterranean mystics can be quite entertaining. The other night, on the trek home, after an especially loud and nonsensical Bible beater departed the F train, two 20-something guys started chatting to each other. The younger dude, hair pulled back wearing a grimy FedEx Ground shirt, did 99% of the talking. At first, it was hard to single out their conversation in the midst of the rush hour roar, but I slowly began to decipher words and chunks of sentences (heavily censored here for your delicate eyes): "Yo, yo - n___er, he was like laid out, for real, no f___ing kidding." The other guy nodded, eyebrows slightly raised. "F__k, yeah - in some like little cave or something, for like three f___ing days and nights, n___er. Totally toasted, ya'll." His friend looked puzzled. "Then, like BOOM! F___ing big ass boulder like split in half! N___er just f___ing stomps his ass outta the cave and is all "Yo, yo - here I yaaaam!" to all those motherf___ers who like f___ed with him. Roman n___ers. Then, he like flew up and sh_t... up there, somewhere. Heaven, I guess." Now, several other sardines were listening in, almost enthralled. "Awesome," his pal said - now completely converted. "F___ing right. And, yo - that n___er's coming back. But not like that old hippy sh_t. He be back as a f___ing kick-ass lawyer or like some banker dude. F___ing kick all ya'lls ass." Perfectly timed, the story ended at 2nd Ave. and the two enthusiastic young Christians exited the train, disappearing into the thick crowd of agnostic hipsters. Now, that's how you spread the good word!

Commuter Complaint #3

Not a complaint, really. Just an observation...

A man and a woman on the Manhattan-bound F train yesterday morning. They seemed familiar, but I couldn't place where I'd seen them before. Maybe down at Coney Island? Both in their mid-thirties, they had pile of bags strewn around them on the subway. They did not talk. The man sat there, slumped over on the woman's shoulder. She paid no attention to him, but focused her eyes on a stuffed sock she held in her hands. Her face was fixed in a state of pain - not crying, just frozen. A few stops later, I noticed a small kitten had partially emerged from the sock, head tilted back, it's little arms limp. It, too, was frozen still. As we descended under the East River, the woman and the kitten remained motionless. It was obvious that the infant cat was dead. The man drooled onto the woman's shoulder. Occasionally, he half-opened his eyes to gaze up at his traveling partner. We reached East Broadway. No movement. Delancey, 2nd Avenue, Broadway-Lafayette. Nothing. At W4, I pushed my way out of the crowded subway car. Just as I was heading out the door, the man coughed - startling the kitten in the sock. Standing on the platform, I watched the tiny animal through the car window as it stretched and went back to sleep. The woman didn't flinch.

Commuter Complaint #2

What's that smell? Stinky Town is the only city where Dan has encountered such a range of odd & awful odors on a single outing. Today, for example, while traveling between home base and his workstation a mere 45 minutes uptown on the F/B subway line, Dan's nose involuntarily witnessed more than 23 foreign smells (2 were pleasant, 1 was unknown but not terrible, and the remaining 20 were downright putrid). Even above ground, it's amazing how one sweet smell can be so short-lived as it is conquered by the stench of death floating by - gone as quickly as it snuck up. (Sometimes, even the sweet smells can be suspect.) Underground, as any seasoned strap-hanger knows, is a whole different story: a myriad of alien scents immediately dominate both the dank, dirty platforms as well as most of the cars' interior space. To better prepare his fellow commuters, Dan recommends the diligent use of assisted breathing apparatus. To avoid looking like a freak though, use this handy map as an alternative guide.

Commuter Complaint #1

Mothers clipping their adolescent boy's fingernails on the F train (Yes! I've seen it more than once). The repetitive "snapping" sound of metal against keratin. The dirty bits of human debris shooting off in random directions, landing God knows where. C'mon, folks... some common sense commuter etiquette here, OK?