| ISYA! |
And we're back. Just in time for another episode of that not-too-regular feature I SAW YOU, ASSHOLE!
Let's preface this week's ISYA with a disclaimer: I do not hate the homeless. I just hate what this seemingly-homeless man (not that I'm profiling! Because maybe he just likes to carry all of his shit around in a grocery cart, I don't know. For the purposes of the story, I'm going to make a judgment call and say he's the sleeping outside type...) did to me. And don't any of you fuckers try to pretend it wasn't on purpose because I KNOW BETTER.
I love the subway. My friends TK and Meg HATE it, as do lots of other people. Paris Hilton once said that it smells like pee and she can't understand why and how some people ride it every day. But what the fuck does she know, right? She's as dumb as a box of hair. Sure, she's hot in that ET/baby giraffe lovechild kind of way, but she doesn't know where London is and she tinkles in taxis. I mean, don't get me wrong. I have watched the Simple Life, and I've definitely laughed pretty hard. With that show, you're either Camp Nicole or Camp Paris (Camp Fatty, right? Right??) but it doesn't matter, because they're such assholes together that you can't help but be entertained.
But oops. This is not about Paris Hilton. This is about the magical subway! The subway picks me up in Astoria and takes me to my job on the upper east side. Then when I'm ready to go home, it is waiting for me, and offers me a lovely uninterrupted thirty minutes of reading time, music time, or staring at others time. Sometimes a combo of the three is best. And the subway is always warm in the winter and cool in the summer, which is more than I can say for my apartment. And my apartment sure is more than seventy six dollars a month, I'll tell you that right now.
Sure, I have to share the affection and attentions of the subway with other New Yorkers but you know what? I never feel neglected.
Yesterday, though, I had such a tumultuous ride. Ups, downs, highs, lows- it was nuts. When I left work on the east side, I descended into the 68th/Lex station to grab the 6. I only take it one stop so I usually walk, but it was kind of rainy yesterday and I didn't have an umbrella and I'm not dumb enough to pay 5 dollars for a shitty one on the street.
So as I passed through the turnstile, I heard someone singing. I figured somebody had a radio playing or something, but the sound was really clear. I went down the stairs and saw an older black man (probably in his sixties) sitting on a bucket on the platform with a case in front of him for change. He was kind of a scruffy guy with a full beard and lots of layered flannel shirts. And he had his head back and was just wailing. It was awesome. He was singing some Gladys Knight song in this really high, solid, beautiful tenor voice. I was captivated. I was actually kind of bummed when the train arrived. Naturally, I gave him money because he most certainly deserved it. After I dropped some dollars in his case, he looked at me and gave me a wink and a smile, but never stopped singing. I actually blushed, kids. Then I stepped on the train and was whisked away to 59th and Lex.
When the doors opened at that busy little hub, the first thing I heard was the go-o-o-o-orgeous baritone voice rumbling some thirty feet away. Oh my gosh. The man who was singing was probably in his forties, wearing a suit and a ski cap (it was damp down there), holding a trumpet and a hymnal, and just bellowing away. We listened to gospel when I was growing up (my mom likes music with spirit, as she says) and it still has the power to give me chills. This man was WONDERFUL. I gave him money too, which-whoops- left me with none, but I didn't care because it was worth it.
So I was having a great subway day! I loved the subway, friends! It keeps me dry, takes me home, and provides me with entertainment. What a winner.
I hopped on an N headed into Astoria, and eventually got a seat as the amount of riders thinned. I was sitting kind of kitty-cornered from a dozing maybe homeless guy with a grocery cart, a bunch of bags, and a lovely newspaper collection. Things were pretty peaceful until we passed the Broadway stop, and he started to rouse himself.
As one does after a good nap, he stretched and yawned and looked around, trying to get his bearings. He caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back and returned to my book.
Then it happened. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw him start to dig in his mouth. Morbid curiosity prevented me from ignoring it. He was rooting around in the back of his mouth with his paw, and his jaw was wiiiiiiiiiiide open, and after a few moments, some drool dropped out onto his pants. I think he must have been dehydrated, because it was kind of stringy drool. Bluggg. Sorry. I'm grossed out already.
So he's digging, he's digging, and I'm trying to pay attention to my book, but I can't, because his digging becomes more fervent. At this point, I entertained the notion that maybe he was bulimic and was trying to pull the trigger. Poor little chubby homeless guy. You're beautiful just the way you are!
Then, the man makes a sudden jerking motion with his digging hand and slowly, carefully, PULLS. OUT. A. TOOTH AHUUGGHGGGGG OHHHH MY GODDDD BARRFFFFFFFFFFFF HELLLLPPPPPPPP MEEEEEEEEE!
I'm embarrassed to admit that I dry heaved.
Now, I am not an intolerant person, nor do I get grossed out easily. And I do have some compassion for this man because obviously if you are playing Dr BriteSmile for yourself on the N train, things aren't playing out in your life exactly how you had planned. But SERIOUSLY??? He was looking RIGHT AT ME. He so knew what he was doing. AND HE PULLED A TOOTH OUT OF HIS OWN HEAD!!!!
There was some blood coming from his mouth, but not an overwhelming amount. He was prepared- he had some tissue in his cart- so he tended to himself quite capably. I had given up all pretense of reading and was blatantly, unabashedly staring at him. I couldn't look away. I stared helplessly as he carefully tucked the tooth into his pocket.
I felt like a crazy person, because the way people were spread out on the train meant that I was really the only one semi-facing him, so nobody else could witness this. I wanted to stand up and squeal "Help! Help! He's pulling out his bones! HELP!" I also think part of my reaction came from the fact that he made my recurring nightmare where my teeth fall out all the more legitimate a possibility. They can fall out while you're just sitting there! He didn't have to work that hard!
Ugh.
Eventually, we arrived to my stop, and I staggered off that train like a kid who's about to barf after a roller coaster. The nausea didn't stop until the next day.
While I hate calling this unfortunate man an asshole, I am left with no choice but to award him this week's ISYA status.
Because you should leave your bones in place on public transportation- and that's the end of that.
So that you, my friend, are not victimized in the same way that I was, I have taken the extra step of recreating this scene for you, so that you can recognize the warning signs and have time to protect yourself.
Be on the lookout for this:
 Labels: barfing, ISYA, subway |
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| 21 Comments: |
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Who takes a grocery cart on the N? How the hell do you get it up & down the stairs. It's hard enough when it's just a baby stroller and everyone's bumping into you and trying to make the baby fall...a grocery cart?!
Anyway - The other day, I saw a big big woman taking a shit against a wall whilst I was transferring from the downtown 6 to the N/W. It was rush hour, mama, and she wasn't even ashamed.
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Yeah, this'll really encourage me to take the subway more. FUCK.THAT.
Incidentally Meg, my guess? Meth addict. It's not common for advanced meth addicts to lose teeth. So don't feel bad about judging him.
"Advanced meth addict" sounds like a class at the school of hell.
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"Because you should leave your bones in place on public transportation- and that's the end of that."
that's what HE said! ba dum bum!
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I want to thank you for helping me save money. Because of this I have no desire to buy lunch today... or ever again.
Also I'm agreeing with TK on the meth thing. One of the reasons I do NOT miss being a Narc.
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D- I don't know! It sucks. I bitch when I have to bring my gym bag to and fro- I can't imagine a cart with all my worldlies in it. And have I ever told you about the lady I saw take a shit in the mailbox? I will sometime.
TK- If intervention has promised me anything, it's that if I do meth I'll be skinny. And he was not. He must have been doing something incorrectly.
dmb- There's a time and a place for every bone. To everything, bone, bone, bone, there is a season bone bone bone...a time for every bone, under my bone...
Revvie- who calls themselves a narc? are you saying you're an informant? no self-respecting druggie uses that term, mister. shape up!
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your barf forgot to have gravity in that dramatic re-enactment, so it kind of looks like you're in the future.
And I'm not sure that you get to say that you don't get grossed out very easily. Sure you're a fake doctor, but your revulsion and fear of butter doesn't exactly win you the iron stomach award.
I dry heaved in class today because we watched a video where priests were pouring boiling milk on themselves on a hot Indian day.
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having both the constitution of a delicate flower AND recurring nightmares about my teeth falling out (how common is that, anyway? those nightmares? they're HORRIBLE.) this has effectively turned my stomach, possibly for the day. you're a brave, brave woman for not actually vomiting on the train...although that could have caused a peristaltic chain reaction (if you will. just grant me the wayne's world reference... please?).
congratulations on surviving.
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I've had the falling-out-teeth nightmare, too. I think it's pretty common. I was repulsed at a guy peeing on the subway platform the other day--my home platform, which made it worse--but this takes the cake.
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I've also had the tooth nightmare! Also one where all my teeth turn to mush. How weird.
Worst thing to happen in front of me on the MTA: my friend was jerked off on. Well, not the whole time. He just used her shoulder to finish onto. She didn't think it was funny when I kept calling her Clarice after. htt
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Talking about teeth horrifies me so much I almost passed out while I read this (I may be exaggerating slightly), but I made it all the way to the end. You are now my hero for not dying on the subway.
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I meant Narc as in Narcotics Investigator, a career track I abandoned in January, to the relief of several friends/family members. Good times.
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I don't know, maybe the bum guy deserves the benefit of the doubt - perhaps he was just fishing out remnants of a bad pear or something.
Regardless, I hope the whole episode didn't keep you from your "to do" list -- assuming "seeing bum dude forcibly remove body parts" wasn't on the list, of course. But in case it was, I extend to you a hearty congratulations for being so efficient with your time. Kudos!
As for Mr. ex-cop narc-dude, unlike TK, I have no idea about illicit drugs and such ... apart from the hallucinogen I took about an hour ago, which is making for some really bitchin' colors right about now.
Uhh, was that out loud?
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Oh great - that messes up the whole plan to kill the Baron!
"When you see the Baron, remember the tooth! The tooth!"
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Suzer- When I said I don't get grossed out easily, obviously I meant by things that aren't food, or big food, or condiments. Duh.
Kelsi- you are so delicate and ladylike! I forgot! I should have warned you up front.
Colleen- I just assume people are peeing on my home platform. We're kinky like that in Astoria.
H- WHAAAAAAAAAAT. She fucking wins. My friend La Chanteuse is always getting moderately molested on the subway, but she's not yet been the recipient of cum. As far as I know. LC, care to correct me?
Jamelah- no, it's so gross. I just had to tell someone. YOU are the hero. I horrified so many people. But I can't say that I'm sorry- the burden of being the only one with this knowledge was far too heavy.
Rev- Yikes.
BOS- Okay but it would have had to have been a REALLY bad pear to make him bleed, right?
Hex-I had to google that.
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Coulda been worse - he could have tried to give it to you. Like a present. A bloody, creepy, horrifying present from hell. Wouldn't that have been sweet?
And BOS - seriously, you and the pharmaceuticals...
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Thank you for the visual. Now I know how to handle myself in that situation.
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Hi Meg. Your hair is getting long. It looks nice. I have been very stupid in the rain, which I would guess has cost me $55 in my life.
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Did you just call me H?
I thought we was down.
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Will you marry me? Screw Meg. Marry Me.
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you must have had a really busy march. or you have a boyfriend now. one or the other.
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tk- i would have worn it as a necklace.
winter- i am here to help
mike- you fool.
lwl- we're the downest! i love you! love me! forgive my typo!
superbee- of course. i will screw meg and marry you at the drop of a hat.
lozo- i've been so busy and stressed out! buy me something
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Name: A Lover and a Fighter
Home: New York, NY
About Me: "It is a very sad thing that nowadays there is so little useless information."
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Who takes a grocery cart on the N? How the hell do you get it up & down the stairs. It's hard enough when it's just a baby stroller and everyone's bumping into you and trying to make the baby fall...a grocery cart?!
Anyway - The other day, I saw a big big woman taking a shit against a wall whilst I was transferring from the downtown 6 to the N/W. It was rush hour, mama, and she wasn't even ashamed.