Monday, November 08, 2004

My Pathetic Morning

I left the apartment a little early today. At my current temp position, I have to be at work at 8:30 a.m., and I need to budget an hour to get there. Every morning last week, except for Election Day, I ended up waiting on the platform and riding with this cute guy...who I think I met once at Monkey Room over the summer. Anyway. Over the weekend I decided if I saw him again, I would at least say "hello."

Feeling resolved, I left earlier than usual and waited on the platform, just to be sure I wouldn't miss him. (I know, it's pathetic already.) I actually let four trains go by. (Isn't that the way? When you're not getting on the A, there's one every 2 minutes...when you're running late and in a hurry, you have to wait for 20.) The one good thing is that I passed up an "opportunity" to ride with an old colleague from school who incessantly talks my ear off about his singing career and other bullshit. He thought it was odd that I said I was "waiting for someone" but I'd rather that he thinks I'm a weirdo than suffer through a 25 minute monologue on subjects I have to feign interest in. (Hey, I never said I wasn't a bitch, okay?) I also saw that guy I met during the Olympics, aka Connecticut Guy, but I don't think he saw me.

And then there he was, just like clockwork. But there was no eye contact. Today -- perhaps I'm neurotic (ya think?) -- I felt like I was being ignored. Then the train came, and we got on. He got the last seat, lucky s.o.g. Unfortunately, there was a crazy person in our car. He was yellin' and screamin' and crying...he touched on just about every subject under the sun in the time it takes to go from 181st to 59th. He yelled about everything from Ray Charles to safe sex. Actually he stayed on safe sex quite a while. The morning commute on the A train is usually quiet and respectful. It's crowded, but almost everyone is reading. Rarely is there anyone talking. So it was a little jarring to hear this raspy voice shouting, "Safe sex! Safe sex!" over and over again.

"Safe sex!" he continued. "But ladies and gentlemen, the British Medical Association," he said, giving extra weight to the word British, as if it lent more credibility to his rant -- see my footnotes! -- "has proved that latex causes cancer!" Naturally we went from there to the topic of the flu vaccine. He predicted 30 million will die this year.

"George Bush. What a hero. He is putting his life at risk for you people, you know that? He is voluntarily not being vaccinated against the flu this year to save more for you and me. What a fuckin' hero. Like if the President gets the flu he has to worry about getting medical treatment." That was the only coherent thing he said all morning.

I tried to tune him out and read my new book, but it was impossible to concentrate. I didn't know if discussing Mr. Crazy might be a way to break the ice and talk to the guy...he seemed like he was doing just fine with his book, though he may have just been staring at the page. Really, it's hard to focus when someone is yelling, "George Bush! All white people like that! You can't trust them." I am not, thank you kindly, in any way shape or form, like George Bush. Can I sue the President for damaging my reputation? (Actually, I have fantasized about suing him for emotional distress.)

Speaking of fantasizing, we finally got to Columbus Circle. At this point we both transfer to the B/D line...but I only go one stop, because I need to catch the E. So there's this period where, once again, we're both standing around waiting on the platform. (Cue chicken noises.) Train comes. We both get on. I'm next to him. It's like Groundhog Day, really. This is the fifth time in a row my commute has proceeded exactly like this (um...except for the crazy guy). But I didn't seize my opportunity.

As I'm heading out of the D train toward the stairs down to the Queens-bound E on the lower level, a cute blond guy catches my eye and gives a little smile. Hello! Alas, the E is already in the station, and I'm trapped on the stairs by slow-moving fat people...I can't make it. He dashes on the train, the doors close, and off he goes.

You straight people, I swear to G-d. You never, EVER show any consideration for single gay guys. La la la, let me lumber down the stairs like an elephant with stiff knees, hoo ha, clueless me. More than once I've wanted to ask some breeder on the train if they can shift because they're blocking my view of a hottie.

Oh, you try to make up for it, the liberals among you, by setting us up with your other gay friends, but you're all so clueless. Gay guys are not like a sweater and a pair of shoes. You can't take your two favorites and say, "They'd be so cute together!" It doesn't work like that. But, I love you all anyway. Just remember next time you're on the subway to keep a low profile, literally. You might be blocking someone's view!

So despite all of that -- passing up 4 A trains and then missing the E -- I got to work 5 minutes early. Yup. Pretty pathetic.

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