Cunt-tilla The Hun

  Sam’s Club had some technical difficulties today. Oh well. I am fine with that. They were not excepting any Credit or Debit cards because the computers were offline, a problem that they could not fix. I felt sorry for them, really. All of the customers yelling at the staff, cursing at them. I just sighed and walked over to the ATM to get the cash needed to pay.

I come back into the line for the register, cash in hand, and listen to the elderly couple ahead of me griping about the issue as they search through their wallets, purses and pockets to come up with the final sum needed for their purchases.  

The young cashier is doing great. He is genuinely sorry for the inconvenience to them and is taking each insult with calm and understanding. It’s pretty good customer service for this place.  I understand it is not his fault and I understand the customer’s frustrations as well. I wait patiently for them to get through and subsequently for my turn. Then I feel a jab against my hip.  

I see a M.I.L.F (Menopausal Ignoramus Looser w/Fangs) pushing her shopping cart into my ass.  She is oblivious to the world and to my ass that she continues to bruise with her cart. Then it begins. The sucking of the teeth and the sigh. She is annoyed. It is an annoying situation, sure. We are all in it though. She continues to jab my ass, “unknowingly”, and making that noise of disgust. Suck teeth……sigh. Suck Teeth…..Sigh. SUCK TEETH……SIGH! Over and over again. We get it! You are perturbed.   

I can’t take it. I hate that noise. I don’t mind it a few times, but over and over is extremely frustrating. And then the final straw, she jabs me in the ass with her cart one more time. My Ass Is Not A BUMPER CAR!  

I turn around and say to her “Do you want to go ahead of me? Because I can’t stand hearing your frustration any longer. If I let you go ahead of me will that calm you down? Will you stop making that noise and jabbing me with your cart?”  

“What?” She asks. I explain, ” I have been trying to be patient and I can’t handle listening to you get so annoyed.  Just go ahead, please.”  

I swear I see snakes growing from her hair, she shrieks “Who the Fuck are you? You Fat Fuck!” I tell her that she and I are the same size so welcome to the club she then says, “You wish.” To which I replied, “No sweetie, I don’t wish to be a menopausal whore and I am way too pretty to wish to look like you.” She goes down the “fat” road again and explains how big I am, as loud as she can.  I tell her I own the very dress she is wearing and I would like to welcome her to the “Fat Club”.  She tells me to fuck off and that I am a “Fat Bitch, to which I reach her level of volume and call her…..drum roll please…..a “Cunt”  

Shit.  

Have you ever been in a Sam’s Club? It’s a warehouse you know. Never thought it would echo like that.  

I’ll admit it. This was not my finest hour.  

When did I become Michael Douglas in FALLING DOWN?  

The more I travel, Across the gravel, The more I feel convinced to the fact, New York’s the town for me.

I am on the shuttle bus from Kennedy Airport from a little trip to South Dakota to take care of my father while he goes through treatment for stage 4 Cancer. The minute I step off the plane at JFK the shower of disdain sort of washes over me and it is quite comforting. This is New York City after all and you have to be strong, mean, tough and gritty. This was the bath I was taking preparing me for my entrance back to Manhattan soil/concrete. I sit on the bus, my bag taking the seat next to me because, well, why not. Fuck you, right? Anyway, a European girl, a tourist, asks to take the seat. I make a huge show of grabbing my bag and how heavy it. Well…this is the act. The show. She wanted to see this, right? THIS is a New Yorker. Anyway…I turn up my Ipod and ignore her and everyone else on this bus ride back home. Traffic is a bit congested this holiday evening so we are slowly creeping up on our destination, with everyone trying to occupy themselves with something. Reading their magazines, or sending a quick text message to a loved one saying that they landed safely, glancing over what Queens has to offer, moving along,  but then something magical happens. It happens to everyone when they first come to New York. It happened to me and it is now happening to about 20 guests of New York right here on the NYAS shuttle. Over the horizon of the freeway the glitter starts to rise in that Manhattan Skyline on this fine Summer evening. Like a slow role of a wave you see this small sea of people who rise towards that Horizon, just trying to take that glorious view in. Wow. That’s the Empire State Building…..The shine of the Chrysler Building is inspiring. The twinkle of all the little lights over such a massive stretch of city. This little Island. For a city that is so harsh, this bus of 20 guests has a lovely warm sweet smile on all of their faces. Welcome to New York, and Enjoy. In all seriousness. It will change you, enjoy the warmth now, while you can, and try to hold onto it.

¿Qué?

It is an unspoken rule in NYC that when you ride a wide enough escalator you stay to the right. You do this so that the other 8 million people in NYC who may or may not need to be somewhere quickly can pass you as you ride the escalator. From time to time you get a jerk or two who like to play chicken with this “rule”. My friend Issac Oliver  recently blogged about an incident that reminded me of my very own involving this unsaid rule.

I was on my way home and was stepping onto an escalator. I had a few bags in my hands and I squeezed to the right as tight as I could to make room for the commuters on the left of the escalator. Several people were passing me and I really wanted to make sure I was not annoying anyone. I turned to look back behind me and to readjust my parcels only to see a woman making a face behind me to show her disgust towards me. She didn’t think I was looking as she was turning to her boyfriend to make the face that said ” Ugh, can’t she just move?!?!” And then she made the noise that is the trigger finger to my rantings. You all know the noise. The teeth sucking noise. It is a talent to do it well, really. Your mouth ever so slighty opens up as your tongue presses against the front of your teeth and you suck in a little air at the same time to creat the high bitch pitched noise that infuriates us all.

I said to her, “Do you speak English?” To which she replied, “What?” And I said, “Oh you do speak English. Because there is this great phrase in the English language that would help you out immensely. It goes like this…ahem..’Excuse Me’ See, my back is to you and I can’t make out your nasty, annoyed face to see that you would like to get past me, but if you were to say ‘Excuse Me’ I would know exactly what you needed.” At that very moment a clueless commuter squeezed past us and says, “Excuse Me.” To which I replied. ‘Seeee, that’s how it works. Isn’t that just amazing? You work on that, okay.”

Oh my…I’m THAT guy.

So one time I was on the subway and this guy sitting across from me out of nowhere put his two fingers, his index and middle, slowly up to his nose and then sniffed. After which he got a puzzled look on his face and then shrugged it off. To this day I have no idea what he smelled, but all I know is that I don’t need to know.  Ya know?

Tonight when I was riding the bus home I pulled out the new prescription I got from my Dermatologist for the eczema on my fingers. The right pinky and ring fingers. I took out the creams, opened them up, popped the top seal of each tube and squeezed out the creamy white substance on my two fingers. Then I slowly rubbed the creamy substance into my cracked fingers. It looked like I was jerking off my fingers. I didn’t realize how disturbing it must have been until I caught a glance of the guy sitting across from me with such a look of disgust on his face.

Yep, I’m THAT guy.

It’s called PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION you idiot!

There are several different characters that take place in my daily commute. You have just read about The Rat, someone who I am sure will not be lost to us and we shall have more encounters with him.

There are more to come though. There is Rat-a-tat-tat, the Alcoholic Asian, The Actress and much, much more.

Then there is The Argentinian. The Argentinian has some balls, even though she is a post menopausal, black hair dying pseudo female. She takes her commute very seriously. Every time she gets on the bus she walks over to the first row of seats, on the right of the bus and demands in her raspy Argentinian dialect that whoever is sitting in that seat “Geet up. D’at iz my seet.”

That’s funny, I thought this was public transportation. Open to all. I think that NJ Transit should have her pay for a special placard for that seat. You know, how when Theaters are looking to raise money for their venue they go out and ask donors to pay big bucks so that they can “have” a seat. Even those people don’t own that seat, they just get to lay claim to it. NJ Transit should really let The Argentinian have a nice shiny silver plack. THIS HERE SEAT BELONGS TO THE BITCHY ARGENTINIAN

She may have a disability and prefer that seat because it provides her with enough leg room or some bullshit like that, fine, I have no problem with her sitting there. She is older and deserves some respect, but it is the way she asks. She doesn’t ask! She demands.

I remember the first time I had an encounter with her. There were no seats left on the bus except for the one that her bag was occupying near the window. I asked her if I could have the seat, since I am pretty sure her purse didn’t pay a fare to sit there. She looked at me like I was a lingering fart, then she glanced at her purse almost as if she was asking it if it was alright for me to sit there. Then she rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse and placed it on her lap. She did not shift her legs so that I could slide in and she did not speak or acknowledge my presence, so I sat down. I made a point to step on her toe. Petty? Yes, but fuck it, she was rude.

I have witnessed her time and again taking over “her seat”, invading it like the Soviets invaded Afghanistan. Time and again helpless people have been irked out of their comfort. The other day, enough was enough.

A young mother with a teething toddler was getting on the bus. You already knew what kind of day she had. It was another one of those famous NYC summer days. 98 degrees with 50% humidity, her cloths sticking to her skin, the baby’s little wasps of hair slick and sticking to his forehead. Mom was relieved to be on the air-conditioned bus and heading home to comfort and stability. She just wants to get her, her baby and the caravan of crap that comes with a baby onto that bus and into a cool seat. This was going to be her nirvana for a few short minutes.

She goes to the first seat that she sees, but she does not notice the invisible plack that says this seat belongs to The Argentinian. She settles into the chair with a sigh, even the baby gives a little sigh of relief.  The Argentinian gets on and walks over to the mother and as always demands her seat. The mother looked around the all but empty bus in confusion, “I’m sorry, it is really difficult for me to move everything. There is a seat right there if that is alright.” The Argentinian doesn’t even look at any of the other seats, she is deadlocked in on the mothers eyes. “D’at iz my seet. You can mooovee, much eazier than I can.” The mother had a look on her face like ‘are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ I had seen enough.

I walked over to the mother and I said ” Don’t mind her (The Argentinian) She’s a bitch to everyone.” I turned to The Argentinian and said, “There is a perfectly fine seat right here and you are much more capable of moving then she is. ” The mother turned to me and said thank you as if I had saved her the energy of doing the exact same thing. The Argentinian just huffed and did the tango over to the next seat.

This is my Lariat of Hestia. Take is or leave it.

Have no fear, The Transit Avenger is here!

 

So I was riding the bus the other day and The Rat was there. The Rat, is a guy who lives in my neighborhood who rides the NJ transit bus with me. He is The Rat because he scurries around and does sneaky rat like things. Not to mention that he actually looks sort of like a rat. 

I know in the grand scheme of things what he is doing is not really hurting anyone, but that is not the point. 

What is it that he does you may ask? Well he cuts. That is he cuts in line. He is a cheater and he cuts in line! 

Its Thursday  night and myself and my fellow commuters are all in line waiting for our bus to carry us home. The line at Port Authority is stretching several feet behind me. We are tired and weary. A two year old boy stands patiently behind me playing a game of peek-a-boo with his Grandfather to pass the time. We all just want to get on the bus, close our eyes and go home. 

Then there he is. The Rat. I see him and motion to Raul to have a look. Raul knows who this guy is. This is the guy who always cuts in line for the bus. Tonight, we are not having it. 

Raul says ” Do you think we should say something?” “What are we going to say?” I ask.  “I think that we should make an announcement or something, to the rest of the line, you know?” Raul says. This is very uncharacteristic of Raul. I’m usually the one crying foul play, but The Rat brings out the furry in us all. 

There is no time to think because our chariot has just pulled up. The line starts to roll and sure enough The Rat starts to creep up to just in front of us, and so it begins. 

Raul starts to yell to the rest of the passengers ” Don’t let this guy in folks, he Always cuts in line. He’s a creep!” I turn to The Rat and start scolding him, “You’re going to do it again? Really? You are going to cut in line? There is a toddler behind me that has more patience. You’re going to cut in front of a toddler? You disgust me!” And so on and so on…. 

The Rat gets on the bus and cowers. He is quite embarrassed by our tactics but still does not back down. What an asshole. 

Then the bus is packed and a little ol’ lady with a cane gets on. Does The Rat get up and offer her his seat, fuck no! Why would he do that, Rats thrive on shit. Someone else quickly offers her a seat. I yell at The Rat again, “Wow…how do you feel now? You are such a gentleman.” 

The Rat gets off at my stop. I almost felt sorry for him because he had this look of fear like a school boy about to get thrown in the garbage can by a pack of bullies. I don’t care though, he should be scared. Why? Because I am THE TRANSIT AVENGER! Here to fight the injustices of the little people. Those social rules that are unwritten but still known and must be obeyed, I am here to defend them. Even if it means dealing with a rat or two. 

Have no fear folks, The Transit Avenger is here.

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