Folkz-R-Confuzing

All Aboard the Ho Chi Minh Express!

2012-05-10T00:20:00.001-04:00

"The Possibilities Are Vast, Inc."

Tonight's Tale of terror....

"Not the actual company name"

Actual Chinatown bus photo

I don’t know if any of you have had the pleasure of having to travel long distance by bus, but let me tell you, it is an experience in sub-culture that has to be seen to be believed.

One year, during the Christmas Holiday season, my son and I had been given two buddy passes to fly to Atlanta. After spending several nights sleeping in LaGuardia due to the nor'easter that nearly shut down anything moving, we were informed that all buddy passes had been embargoed due to the weather, until further notice.

Determined to get my son to see Atlanta, and not spend a dismal Christmas at home due to the fact that I had no contingency plan, I checked Greyhound, Amtrak, even the Dominican Van service “Mangu Rapido” or whatever they’re called, everything was booked solid, or was so expensive you had to mortgage the tickets, not buy them.
My brother called and said there was a solution. A bus company in Chinatown that offered low rate bus transportation to Atlanta, and other points south. Let’s just call the company “The Shang Hai Express” or “Ho Chi Min Horse Trail”. We purchase two tickets online and are instructed to print the E-ticket to bring to their Chinatown office 20 minutes prior to the 10pm departure time. One carry-on and one large piece of luggage were allowed per passenger, and valid identification was required upon check in. Seats were pre-assigned at check in.

"We're gonna need a bigger boat!"

We arrive at the address listed on the website, and the curb in front of their ticket office looks as if refugees were escaping Bosnia! Bundles, boxes, chicken wings with French fries, Duane Reade Shopping bags, hand carts with laundry bags tied on with electrical extension cord…all that was missing was live chickens and goats, and I’m almost sure two women went by with stuff balanced on their heads. The ticket office was crowded, filthy, and doubled as an Asian electronics store. The lines extended to the street, and there was only one surly woman checking passengers in at the bullet-resistant glass booth. I gave her the printouts, and our ID, she read them briefly, scribbled something on them with black sharpie marker and replied “B-bus, ow-sigh, teh o’cock.” I asked if seat 49 was a window, and she replied “Maybe.”

There was snow on the ground, and the curb was lined with two foot high snow banks from the sanitation plows pushing away the earlier storm. As the buses arrived, people were running along-side along the snow banks as if this were the last life boat off the Titanic! Kids in one arm, those red-white, and blue burlap sacks I call “The Mexican Tourister” for luggage in the other. It was the Housing Authority Fashion Show, featuring all those famous, high quality brands: Cacawear, Baby Cat, Hot 29, Pumpkin Bottoms, John John, all the favorites from your neighborhood Pay/Half Store.

The buses stop, and the driver can’t even open the door. One of the office staff met the bus at the curb, and helped direct them, and passengers away from each other. I turned to my son, and shrugged in apology.

The door opens and people begin to pour into the bus, as water floods into a sinking ship. There is no regard for sex, age, and no chivalry for women, children, or the elderly. Every savage for himself. The epitome of the ghetto mentality and philosophy; “I’m gonna git mines!” We get to our seats after placing our luggage underside. The driver was a surly Asian with a Chin-fro, glasses, and a painted on sneer his face. After the melee of boarding, the driver walked through, counting in Chinese as he went, cigarette dangling in the corner of his mouth as if glued there.

He yelled something to one of the staff on the curb, and he slammed the door and we were off. We turned off of First Avenue so hard you had to hold on to avoid being dumped into the aisle. We were on Canal Street when the driver’s phone rang, his ring-tone was the song “Sukiyaki”, made famous by the group “A Taste of Honey”, only this was the original version, in Chinese, and it sounded like wet kittens mewing from a wet sack, in a trash can.

The driver made a series of hard turns as he appeared to curse to himself, “magahay!” We came around a corner, and were back in front of Chow Fun Bus’s base office. A woman emerged carrying an overnight bag and a Pullman; “Is this the Atlanta bus?!” The driver continued to roll, screaming at the woman as we went “You kungh now, you mate bus lay!” She approached the bus and said “can I get on?” “Kung NOW, Now, geh on, bus is lay, you mate bus lay!” She had to board the bus while it was moving, throwing her luggage onto the bus ahead of her, and the bus never stopped, even as she maneuvered through the bus to find an open seat. The driver slammed the door closed with a resounding FWOOP, and we were off again.

Now the driver was trying to make up time, darting in and out of traffic as if he were driving a Toyota Sienna minivan. After crossing Canal Street, another hard right, and we were in the tunnel to New Jersey. After the toll plaza, the driver was cutting lane to lane as if we were a fire truck chasing a call, occasionally, we’d ride the shoulder on the sleeper ridges BRRRRRRP brrrrrrrp brrrrrp…

A passenger seated directly behind the driver apparently had issue with his smoking, and made it clear: “Driver, DRIVER, I gots asthma, you isn’t puposed ta be smoking” on da bus, I’m gonna call the company!” Without even missing a beat or turning his head, the driver smiled: “I dun cayuh, you cah company, is MY COMPANY, MY BUS, YOU CAUH COMPANY!” The passenger murmured something to the guy next to him about this being fucked up, sucked on his inhaler but that was that.

We drove at speeds between 70 and 80 mph, zipping from lane to lane on the NJ Turnpike, it was like a 45 foot roller coaster. FORGET about falling asleep! The snow and sleet pelleting the windshield, the herky-jerky movements of the driver, the potpourri of feet, pink hair relaxer and port-o-john wafting from the back of the bus, ahhhh the bliss.

The bus’ totally dark interior due to the lack of courtesy lighting ensured that someone would use your head for a grab rail feeling their way to the “boom boom room”. We stopped at a rest stop for fuel, and a passenger asked if he could get off to smoke. “Ok you smoke, fi mins, fi mins!” There was an exodus to Pilot Truck Stop! The driver yelling “Hey, you come now, no bake, ony smoke, ony smoke fi min!” Two thirds of the bus emptied out and pranced passed the fuel pumps to the eatery.

The driver yelled behind them and they ignored him and continued. He was on his phone as he stood holding the door to the restaurant open, pleading in Chininglish for them to return, “Herroo, Neu Yok Alana, go to bus, we ah lay, Alana Neu Yok!” some did since they had their munchies and drinks, but the rest continued to stand in huge lines to place their orders. He returned to the bus, and began honking the horn intermittently, then moved the bus in an effort to get the rest to return to the bus, all the while heatedly complaining to someone on the phone in his tongue. When he thought he had collected all of the absconded, we proceeded out of the rest area onto the highway. A woman in the back of the bus yelled “DRIVER! DRIVER! Someone make him stop, the lady next ta me ain’t back yet, she still inna sto!” The driver ignored, and we pulled back onto the road.

Now wer’e flying down the road, in and out of traffic, trying to make up lost time when suddenly….PEEEOOO-PEEEOOOO-PEEEOOOOO-PEEEEOOOO Chit-ZING-TISSSSSsssss….RRRRROOOOOWM BA BA ba ba ba!! The bus stalled out and now the only sound was the tires, and the wind. The driver was on his phone to his base or the other bus (A-bus) seemingly asking for instructions on how to deal with the situation as we coasted to the shoulder, tires humming and grinding on the sleeper ridges as we slowed, and pitched slightly to the right on the embankment. The peeoo peeoo sound continued as the driver tried to start the engine, but only clicks, then the chirp of the low air pressure alarm could be heard. Silence, except for the intermittent whoosh of passing traffic, and passengers sucking their teeth, and murmuring to each other. One guy asked if everything was alright, but the driver ignored him and continued to stare through the steering wheel at the instrument panel.

Wooo woo woo woo wooo CRRRrrrAaaaaaank…..wooo woo woo woo woo woooo CRRRrrAaaaaaank. No dice. Now mind you, through all of this, there has been no announcement from the driver, no “Ladies and Gentlemen, we apologize for the inconvenience, no free spring rolls, no happy ending..NOTHING! After a pause that lasted for an hour, (5 minutes) and a couple more woo-woo cranks, the engine roared to life. The driver revved the motor for awhile to get the low air pressure to release the ICC brake, and after awhile, we were rolling again. Back into traffic, zipping and zooming. Sighs of relief could be heard from the other passengers (one ghetto broad said “shit, he drivin’ crazay, but it’s better than being stuck on the road!”) We were really moving and despite the herky-jerky dodges in and out of the lanes we were moving, we were actually going to get home!

PEEEOOO-PEEEOOOO-PEEEOOOOO-PEEEEOOOO Chit-ZING-TISSSSSsssss….RRRRROOOOOWM BA BA ba ba ba, TRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrroooooowwwwwwl!! Guess what?

We lost 45 minutes between the three stalls, and when we passed a trucker rest area, we stopped. The driver turned the wheel hard as we rounded the pumps and pulled up to the entrance of Big Bob’s, or Jimmy Ray’s or whatever else they’re called. You know, where they sell coffee, slim jims, tractor trailer TV sets, scrapple wraps, skoal, plaid flannel shirts with the built in hoodie, Nascar license plates, Dixie flag baseball caps, cowboy hats with the big feather badge in front, toy trailer trucks, corncob pipes, cb antennas…..Hickmart! You get the idea right? Ok, let’s go on.

The driver stops the bus by pulling up the emergency air brake and the bus snaps on a dime, and rocks to a halt; “Teh min bake!” If you stuck your hand into the aisle, you’d be snatched into the tide of cattle stampeding off the bus! But I can assure you, “dem niggas was back onna bus in 9.37 minutes! Jackie Chu, or whatever his name was, wasn’t taking any crap from stragglers!

The total ride was 15 hours, it was like an Indiana Jones movie, the one with Short Round driving the car with the blocks on his feet, but without the opening floor show. My son slept through the entire trip, and I wish I could have. Through the smell of feet, porta-john, pot, cat urine, chicken wangs, motions hair conk, getting his head grabbed by someone who lost his balance looking for the can, through the harrowing and dangerous drive, and the ghetto fashion show that took place each time the savages got on and off the lifeboat. My wife and the other kids were there to get us at the shopping center in Atlanta, and we were glad to be greeted by familiar, friendly faces.

I looked at my son, and shook my head and said “well, I said I’d get you here for Christmas, by hook or crook!” “It’s alright Dad, now I can cross sleeping in an airport, and kamikaze bus trips off of my bucket list, and besides, now you have some new stories to tell!” My son is a trooper!

There is no regulation, package inspection, ID check, customs, red caps, air fresheners, life preservers, flare guns, and I wonder if the drivers even have a CDL. How can you pass the licensing process if you can't speak English??!

It's the underground railroad all over again. I can only IMAGINE how many kilos, AK47's, surface to air missiles, kidnap victims, fugitives, vampires, Bigfoot, illegal aliens, extra terrestrials, hookers, endangered species, and whatever else you can think of are on those buses cause NOBODY'S checking!

The bus stalled due to an air leak, that brought the primary pressure to less than 65 pounds, activating the ICC emergency brake and killing the engine. When was this bus inspected, or cleaned? You want an adventure filled with thrills, chills, danger, drama, bedbugs and action? Can you piss in total darkness in a smelly box that keeps throwing you from left to right, while trying to aim at a hole you can't see? Try a ride on one of Kamikaze Koach Lines to anywhere!

May the force be with you!

Online Dating & Blind Dating Nightmares

2012-04-29T10:19:00.001-04:00

BLIND DATES THAT MADE YOU WISH YOU WERE!

I was a fan of online dating a few years ago, and had profiles everywhere: Lavalife, Plenty of Fish, American Singles, Singles Net, Latino Singles, Latino People Meet, yadda, yadda, yadda.

I assure you, there WERE nightmares. One very promising girl turned out to be my cousin, another was such a hick, I wanted to deport her. But I must say, the worst ones for me are the "bait & switch" dates. You know, like when you go to Auto Land for the Toyota Avalon, and it turns out to be a beat-up, used, rebuilt 1989 Tercel?

Ok, heeeere we go.

This woman responded to my ad, she was drawn in by my witty banter and outrageous sense of humor (her words) and I checked her profile: Caucasian, 42, 5'6", single, artist, hetero... The photo was of a pretty attractive woman, with a mane of curly red hair, very nice figure, and green eyes. She was standing in a garden, a large painting on Canvas was spread across the red tiled garden floor, and she stood barefoot upon it, in a kimono . Sexy, right?

We agreed to meet for coffee or lunch in the Village the following weekend, and I was looking forward to the encounter, and nervous at the prospect that she would be my first Caucasian date in years. After our phone conversation, I resumed work, wrapping up my day of consulting for a New York retail company. The phone rang again, and I recognized the number as "Diana's" (Names Changed To Protect The Innocent...ME!) and thought she had called to cancel our date. "Hi, it's me again, I was thinking, why wait til' the weekend, I am soo looking forward to getting to meet you in person, and I figured, why wait? How about tonight?" I was surprised, flattered, and a little stressed at the rushed meeting, since I had already mentally penciled it in for the weekend, and this meant I would have to rush, and all that crap. I reluctantly agreed, and rushed home to get ready.

I was back in the city by 7:30, and our meeting at a popular Greenwich Village Cafe' was at 8:00. She called once she had crossed the bridge, and was in Manhattan to get directions. As I waited, I became more nervous, wondering what to say; do I kiss her, shake her hand, what if she doesn't like me, am I gonna say some dumb crap or is she gonna hate the restaurant.....She called to say she was three blocks from the cafe', and I advised her to grab any parking due to the scarcity of spots in the area, and I would walk towards her car which she described as a black, late-model Nissan.

As I walked, I thought it would be fun to cross the street, and double back and come from the opposite direction than expected, and surprise her. It would also give me the strategic "first look". It started to rain as I got to the street she was parking on, and I ducked into a Dunkin' Donuts to keep dry, and watch her park. When I looked across the street, I could see the car, but no Diane. The rain had slowed to a mist, and I scanned the street for her. Couples passed, traffic, but I didn't see her. Could I have passed her on the way? Yeah, that had to be it. I flipped my phone open and re-dialed her number, it went straight to voice-mail. As I debated going to the cafe', or waiting, a woman approached the car, she was covering her head with her handbag. She was HUGE, and I felt my heart sink, when I saw the red hair. Naw, that couldnt be her, I kinda laughed to myself and thought "THAT would be F---ED UP!" Ah, I'm working myself up over nothing, and when I see her, I'll tell her, and we'll both laugh, that'll be the ice-breaker.

I dialed her number again, and to my horror, "Jabba The Hutt" across the street began digging in her purse for the phone. I almost had a mud puppy! NOW what do I do? I crossed the street at the pace death-row inmates probably walk to "Old Sparky". As I got closer, I could see that the arms protruding from the sleeves of her dress, were thicker than my thighs. As I approached her, she was facing in the opposite direction. As she turned to face me, I started to say: "Hey lady, ya waitin' fer somebody?" but when I saw her, I swallowed that, and went blank. It was like someone hit my ctrl-alt-del, I re-booted.

"THERE YEW AWAR, and yawer GOURGISSSSSS!" The woman could have been my Grandma. She grabbed my arm and headed towards Saint Marks Street. I felt like one of those college kids that walked dogs to pay their tuition. She was almost dragging me. I apologized for not being at the car when she parked, and making her wait. As I did, I studied her, trying not to show my shock and horror...or faint. "Uh...Dianne, ...uh, you said you were 45 in your profile." I had to ask, right? She replied: "Well, I FEEL 45, and age is just a number." "Yeah, but I think you left out a couple of numbers from your profile. Do you mind if I ask how old you REALLY are?" "I'm 67 years young." I thought to myself, "Yeah, but ya ain't gonna get to be "68 years young", cause I'm gonna smother your ass with a pillow!!" Never the less, we went to dinner, and she joked that because it had rained, she would give me a wet t-shirt show. I could taste bile.

We had dinner, she ordered Minestrone soup, and as she ate, I could see, and hear her dentures shifting and clicking! "I want a hot sexy Latin man to make long, passionate love to me, for hours!"

Check Please...CHECK!

Subway: The Incredible Underground Circus

2012-04-28T06:59:00.000-04:00

Ah the sights and sounds of the New York Subway. There is nothing like it in the world! Where else can you go into a hole on the ground and pop out 20 miles away? There are 842 miles of track and 468 stations in the New York subway system. It's a city, under a city, or in this case, a fourth dimension.

There was a time, when you got on, sat or stood, and everyone understood the unspoken rules. I think the city has changed, and we are the ever-changing melting pot. For some of the newcomers, who are not aware of the subtle social nuances necessary for subway survival, it seems to us as if they are oblivious to any rules at all. Plus, these days, you have groups of break dancing acrobats, 57 different mariachi midget bands, crooning winos, battery and bootleg DVD salesman, homeless people "giving out" sandwiches, wacko bible reciters, people who claim to be blind shaking a cup, but avoid objects as if by sonar, and every kind of con in the world. I just want to listen to my iPod until my stop!

Ever board a train on Canal Street after a day of shopping for fresh produce, and seafood? The train pulls into the station, and you position yourself at the door that opens upon the stairway at your home destination station. As the train grinds to a halt, you step aside to allow the alighting passengers egress, and from behind you, you almost get knocked down by passengers boarding from behind you, who run onto the train as if executing a raid! It's as if the music stopped in Musical Chairs!!

There should be a set of subway rules, or etiquette, please chime in if you agree. Maybe something like the "Ten (or so) Subway Commandments":

1. BOARDING AND ALIGHTING THE TRAIN:

Let people get off the train before you push your way on. Collisions are fun in sports, the movies and even on the bumper cars. Other than that, they hurt. When the train's doors open, onto a wall of people whom you have to push through to get off, It makes everyone's commute longer, plus two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time! MOVE AND LET THEM OFF THE @#$*& TRAIN!I Allow all alighting passengers egress prior to you mad, ravenous dash, knocking over pregnant women, senior citizens and the disabled to get to your window seat, don't be an @$$#0l3. If you are riding, and standing at the doors, please move to the left or right to allow people on or off.

Photo dedication: Lori Harfenist, The Resident

If you board, and someone is already occupying door spot 1. or 2., (Thank you Lori Harfenist) don't try to stand behind them to push them into the car, and out of their spot.

PLEASE just don't stand in front of the doors. Especially if your fat and your entire body takes up 1/2 of the train door entrance. (YES - I'm talking to you Shaniqua! Loose a few!) Move to the center of the car instead of cramming together on top of the door. We know it’s a crazy idea, but you might not be felt up from all sides if you were willing to take a few steps into the middle of the car. As cool as it might be to feel like 40 clowns crammed into a Volkswagen, suffocation is not a fun way to die.

Photo: Metropolitan Transportation Authority

Above: What the signs actually say.

Below: What the signs actually should say.

2. Holding Doors:

It’s the perfect illustration of Dr. Spock’s famous tenet: Sometimes the needs of the many (people already on the train) outweigh the needs of the few (person rushing to catch the train). It's unfair to those of us whom got up on time to make our morning commute, to have to wait for you latecomers. Don’t try to squeeze through the doors as they’re closing. We enjoy the occasional horror movie, but watching you get dragged into the tunnel, or your body getting chopped in half, is not an ideal way to start the day.

3. Stairwells, Escalators and Elevators:

When using the stairwells in stations, basic U.S. traffic rules apply; always use the right side of a stairwell, unless you are on an escalator, where Easy-Pass traffic rules apply; ride the escalator on the right, and allow the people walking up the escalator to use the left or "H.O.V." of the escalator, no you cow, you don't need a driver's license to understand this!

Do not sit on stairwells, and read, or play with your phone, especially at stations such as 14TH STREET UNION SQUARE, people trying to get to work, transferring from the numbered lines to the lettered lines, and vice-versa. They will trample you. Also, people spit, vomit, urinate, and even defecate on stairwells and platforms, not to mention the huge rat population that prances across the stations during the wee hours.
Elevators are available in some stations, and are sometimes called "The Slide box Urinal". Well, that's what they smell like, and brings us to Number 4....

4. Wonderful Wafting Aromas: The Potpourri of the Underground Railroad

Our subways are home to a huge homeless population, needless to say, most of which don't make it to Bath & Body Works too often. (tourists, this one's for you) The train pulls into the station, and it's pretty full, except for that one car.. GREAT, you think you'll get a seat, right? You blindly rush in, Ahh, your choice of seats, "BING BONG", the doors close, you settle into your seat, and begin reading you newspaper, or play solitaire on your iPhone, then it hits you. Your nose burns, and your eyes begin to tear. You can actually taste what you smell.
You spin around to survey the car for the first time, and there, on the seat behind you is a homeless person, deeply engaged in an intense conversation with his Willy Wonka, while closely examining the underside of his exposed scrotum. If you're on the D, R, F, or A trains, (R-46 (Pullman-Standard, 1974-75) Interior Subway cars), you should now attempt to perfect the art of holding your breath like a skin diver, because, unlike the "Talking" subway cars on the N, Q, and 1 lines...YOU ARE LOCKED IN!!
The D train pulls out of 125th Street...the next stop, 59th STREET, COLUMBUS CIRCLE! After what feels like HOURS, the train pulls into the station and slows to a halt. You have broken your fingernails from clawing at the doors to pry them open for air. As the doors sing that long awaited "BING BONG" again, you clamor out of the car and drop to your knees, gasping for air, behind you, at the opposite end of the car, another "winner" rushes into the car as you hear "STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS".
The train pulls out of the station and you see your replacement's face pressed against the glass of the window mouthing the words "HELP ME"... Lesson: Watch what the natives do, you might live longer.

5. Personal Hygiene:

Important for everyone and it should be part of your daily routine. If you must wear your favorite, sweat-stained wife-beater, it would be nice if you bathed, and/or invested in Right Guard, or Speed Stick Deodorant, or at least a Happy Tree Air Freshener. Instead of standing over me for your pits to air out, go stand by the subway car's doors with your arms down, in either spot one or spot two (as defined in Subway Circus Blog Sect.1, Line 13 Credit: Lori Harfenist) Don't YOU SMELL YOURSELF?

You should not trim your fingernails or toenails, pick and flick scabs, engage in nose-gold mining, flossing, or zit popping on the Lexington Avenue Express during the morning rush. Because a civilized society is measured by the delineations between its public transit vehicles and its bathrooms. Have you ever had a toenail clipping or a flicked nose-goblin land on your iPad while you're trying to play Angry Birds? And by the way, if you have discovered something that fascinating in your nostril, is it possible for you to refrain from examining it, and rolling it until you get home...or until I get home?

This also goes for those of you whom enjoy extracting ear wax with a bobby pin, Bic© pen cap, house key, or that long cocaine pinky nail, and then smelling it before wiping it on the adjacent seat. Nice, thanks for that. Is it your absolute last chance to freshen up before a job interview, funeral, or proposal of marriage? We didn’t think so.

6. Seating :

You board a crowded train, and you spot a seat between two people, if you know your buffarilla butt normally takes two seats, don't try to shoehorn your bovine buttocks into the seat, thus displacing the two passengers who were there before you. You heifers know what we're talking about. Its basic physics, you simply cannot fit 30 pounds of potatoes into a 10 pound bag, it's just not possible! That's why you wear Pumpkin Barrels, instead of Apple Bottoms!

Hook & His Parrot

If an elderly, disabled, or pregnant woman boards, give them your seat. Your spontaneous affliction with narcolepsy is highly unconvincing. Don't be a douche. If there’s one thing we can all agree on, it’s the continued propagation of the species (within reason). And if you don’t give your seat to an elderly person, when you grow old you can expect to be cast out and set upon by wild dogs. It’s called karma.
When It’s Appropriate: Maybe if you have a serious, demonstrable impediment, like a wooden leg. Although even then, she’s pregnant dude! On your feet, Captain Hook!

One SEAT per fare!

Don't take two seats, or put your feet up on the adjoining seats. People don't like going to work, or school with somebody else's footprint on their asses. And unless you paid $5.00 for your ride, you are only entitled to one seat. If you want to lie down, do it at home, or on the tracks for that matter. Please do it after my train has left the station, and I am at my destination.

WARNING: Not an actual Subway sign!

If you're sitting on the train, and your junk is not the size of a cantaloupe, CLOSE your LEGS! And if you're a lady, do we really have to tell you not to air out your stuff on the train? Especially with that creepy guy directly across from you, scooted down in his seat, playing possum, with his ball cap brim down low...

Photo Credit: New York Magazine

Rules of the Subway:

(1) Knees may be no more than six inches apart, ladies, you too. (2) If you can't control your offspring, watch as a stranger does it for you. (3) What did we say about perverts checking out the girls? (4) The New York Post is only 75 cents, buy your own. (5) Holding the subway door makes everyone on the train love you...NOT! (6) As does loud music. (7) Lie down on subway only if you’ve been shot, stabbed, fainted, are giving birth, or have dropped dead.

Photo: Trainpigs.com

7. The Dining Car:

Due to the absence of a dining car on the subway, we expect you would exercise basic social graces and eat at home before boarding the train, or when you reach your destination. The subway is not the place to eat messy, smelly food or consuming a perilously sloshing drink, and boogers are not food, nor is the loose skin in the webbing between your fingers.

Why it’s Inappropriate:

Because subways were practically invented to send your sloppy foods onto the shirts and laps of other passengers.

When it’s Appropriate:

Only if your drink container has a cap and you’re eating a type of food; say, the vacuum-packed chicken NASA prepares for astronauts. That, in the event of a sudden subway lurch, won’t leave a barbecue sauce splatter pattern on the people around you.

Why do the rest of us have to watch you suck and smack on spaghetti & meatballs, Indian food, chika wangs & fin fahs wit lotsa hot sauce, durian fruit, sausage & peppers, tongue tacos, cuchifritos, pigs’ feet, or any of that other smelly medical waste. We don't enjoy watching you chuck chicken bones onto the floor under your seat, or cleaning your teeth with a matchbook cover. It is rude, and unsanitary. Have you washed your hands? The seat you are having your feast in was probably urinated on by the homeless guy that was having a moist-mare there before you began your banquet.

And you little piglets spitting pumpkin seeds, and David's Sunflower Seed shells everywhere...THAT IS BIRD FOOD, YOU IDIOT!! What are you a parrot or a gerbil? If you are a gerbil, please accept my apologies...but aren't you traveling in the wrong tunnel?

If you're going to have a Mocha Frap, or a Venti Caramel Macchiato on the subway and read a book, or your Kindle, don't put the coffee on the seat next to you, it might fall during a quick stop and burn the crap out of your neighbor with no health insurance. You should put it on the floor and hold it between your feet if you insist on reading and having coffee on your morning commute.

8. Poles and Stanchions:

If the train is crowded, move into the car, and do not lean on the upright poles, others have to hold on too and nobody wants their knuckles crushed by your back. Don’t wrap your arms around the pole and embrace it. While I’m sure it makes you feel safer, it’s not fair to the man who falls on the floor because he has nothing to hold onto, or the woman who unwillingly has her hand in your cleavage. Hug your friends, not a germ infested pole, unless your practicing for your night job at Wiggles.

No Pole Dancing Please!

If you are standing at door spot 1. Or 2. (as defined in Subway Circus Blog Sect. 1, Line 13). Try not to rub your butt on the person sitting in the seats immediately next to the door, in the corner seats, or put a buttock onto their shoulder. If you have to reach across someone's face, to hold on to a pole, have the courtesy to say excuse me, or when possible, re-position yourself so that someone shorter than you, is not staring into the crook of your arm, or that hairy boil in your armpit, through the sleeve of your t-shirt.

If you’re standing facing seated passengers, please refrain from stepping on their toes, staring at them too long, or licking your chops while you try to look as if you're not trying to look down the busty ladies low-cut blouse. Let’s face it; this is a city full of beautiful people who sometimes wear noticeably revealing clothing. But always observe the two-second rule: Never let your eyes linger longer than a two-count, and don't duck down in your seat with your hat's brim pulled way down, as if sleeping to peek up a skirt. It’s a fine line between flirt and creep.

8. Bags, Backpacks, Mountain Bikes, and Baby Carriages:

If you have packages, or groceries, you cannot use the adjoining seat as a package shelf, especially during the crowded rush hour. If you are wearing a backpack, be aware that every time you turn left, or right, your bag strikes someone. If you do, APOLOGIZE, don't suck your teeth and give THEM a dirty look! Such balls.
Backpacks should be kept on the floor between your legs. The smooth operation of the subway requires that people be able to (a) board the car, (b) disembark the car, and (c) ride and not get smacked in the face by the travel mug hanging off the back of your bag as you traverse the continent. Take it off your back so you don't clobber someone with it.

You ladies with the big shoulder bags, containing all that crap that you carry, and never use; Toilet paper, Marie Claire, 3 pairs of pumps, your iPad & iPhone, A/C adapters, your wallet, passport, 2 Harlequin novels, a light sweater, light-saber, light bulbs, light beer, hand sanitizer, 25 tampons & 16 extra absorbent super-flow maxi pads, rouge, 12 lipsticks, keys, pens, pencils, oil paints, 2 umbrellas, bottled water, 8 granola bars, Chap-stick, lip-gloss, combs, hairbrushes, emery boards, nail polish, acetone, nail clippers, eyelash curlers, extra extensions, hair glue, hairspray, Tic Tacs, Bondo Fiberglass Filler, sunglasses, a blow dryer, 3 different perfumes, Summer's Eve, airbrush & compressor, and your vibrator. YOU'RE GOING TO WORK BITCH, NOT TO ACAPULCO FOR A WEEK!!!

Your daily carry-on luggage can be deadly! When you're squeezing through the crowd, carry the bag in front of you, otherwise you're banging someone seated in the head as you go by.

If you board with your mountain bike, be wary that if you take a seat, you will effectively take three seats. Stand with your bike, and let someone sit. You'll have time to sit on your bike when you get where you're going. Strollers are granted extra leeway, though people with extra-large models that include cup holders, seating for four, ABS, 4-wheel drive, and a V6, should consider a more crowd-friendly mode of transporting their young, like a shoulder harness, or a leash.

These Crooning Winos usually seen on the R train between Union Square, and City Hall

9. Subway Mariachis, Crooning Winos, Con Artists and Panhandlers:

The subways have become overrun with every kind of solicitor, con artist, and amateur holy men preaching Armageddon, or selling anything from gum to incense. There are about 15 mariachi bands, and the guys I like to call "The Thunderbird Quartet" (aptly named for their favorite desert wine), who either sing gospel hymns, or Otis Redding. You will usually see them on days when you forgot to bring/charge your iPod. Or the guy with the accordion who with his wife and child go car to car playing the Lambada song, or the hook to Usher's "Yeah". What is this, the Lawrence Welk Show? As his wife works the crowd, the child passes the hat, and they try to look as pitiful as possible. I'm sure the proceeds of an accordion sale would be quite profitable, then he could purchase a Casio Keyboard, and some lessons from The Learning Annex. Then, as the accordionist exits the car, stage left, in come the "Selling Candy For My School Basketball Team" scammers, from stage right. If you notice, they are too old to be in school, and they are on the train at all hours. WHEN DO THEY PLAY BASKETBALL?

Individuals who claim to be from some homeless outreach organization, handing out sandwiches, and chips to anyone on the train who is hungry. If you want to make him crazy(ier), order a Reuben Sandwich, with some kosher garlic dills, or an Italian combo, with lots of sweet peppers! Always accept moldy food from displaced wackos. It looks so appetizing! We haven't forgotten the Flying Crush-Groove Knuckleheads! Where are the cops, when 10 guys with boom boxes blasting gangsta rap, are flipping and flying all over the car like Ringling Bros. & Barnum and Bailey's Circus? It was bad enough when everybody with an empty 5 gallon joint compound bucket, wanted to be funky drummer. Now, they are no longer solely on the platforms and mezzanines, but on the train with us, while we are a captive audience. I think we enjoyed them more when they were surfing the outside of the train.

Finally, our personal favorite: "Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to bother you"... It's the same old story; I got burned out, help me get something to eat, Bernie Madoff stole my millions, I just need enough money for my sex change operation. Not sorry enough to stop. We want to be sympathetic for some of the less fortunate, but it's hard to tell which need help, and which are simply lazy and dishonest.

Some of these supposedly pitiful beggars, actually do quite well; You do the math: There are between 8 and 10 cars on a subway train. There are between 10 and 15 minutes between trains. The average total donation per car is about $1.00 . Let's say 4 trains per hour, $9.00 per train =$36.00 x 8 hours = $288 per day x 5 days = $1,440.00 per week. WOW, let me get off this computer, and get out my dirtiest hoodie, some old shoes, and my paper cup, I need to update my home theater system!

Photo Credit: Rukgrafx NYC

10. False Friars, Mendacious Ministers, Railroad Reverends & Subterranean Sisters:

Yes, we have freedom of religion, but it's not fair to the rest of us, who may not share your faith, to be yelled at about Yahweh, badgered with the Bible, abused over Adonai, jumped on about Jehova, or rattled about repenting!!

Jeee-SUS CHRIST (no pun or blasphemy intended)!! If you want to believe, or have faith, go to it, have at it, knock yourselves out, for the sake of all that is good, pure and holy (yes, that time a pun was intended), have respect for the choices, and decisions of others whom just want to go home and watch DANCING WITH THE STARS!! If you love your deities, its cool, but we don't need to hear about it, and just as you have the right to go gaga for Gilgamesh, We have the right to listen to Gaga! Besides, if it works for you, great, you're not going to convert us during our $2.50 commute, or trip to Staples. It's just annoying, and imposing. If you are really "God-fearing", have consideration for the rest of us...even if we decide to be sinners, and burn in hell, thank you.

Stay tuned, more to come.....The Underground MENACE!

Photo Credit: Rukgrafx NYC

11. Littering And The Consequences

We will delve into this next...

Also, job opportunities...
Click on the test sections to enlarge...

Credit: Spy Magazine / Rukgrafx NYC

12. Consideration of your fellow man:

For many of us, this comes naturally, it's common sense. As we all know, common sense is not-so-common. Sadly, there are many whom do not possess the basic social graces the rest of us were blessed with at birth, thus prompting us to include this section.

Resist the urge to sing along with your iPod. Your voice may just be ruining Lady Gaga for the rest of us. When the sleeping homeless man is plugging his ears, that should be your cue to stop. Also, busting a move, while seated between two other passengers trying to nap, or read their Kindles, is out of the question. iPods are great for ignoring other passengers, but not great when others can hear them. I really don't want to have to hear your 50 cent or Rhianna playing.. so turn it down, or get rid of those $4.99 headphones you bought at Duane Reade, or CVS.

Shut the @#$%& up, please!

Your Cellphone ringtone, is clever to you, but annoying to the rest of us, although not as annoying as your mundane, and personal ghetto cellular chat: "Yeah, hello, HELLO? Nah, I'm in da train...Nah, I said I'M IN DA TRAIN, yeah...wassup, how you doin' sexy...yeah...nah she gon be at huh mama house...yeah...nah..we coo chill..."

Speak quietly. No yelling please. We don't need to hear about your baby daddy/mama nor do we need to hear you scream at him/her on your cell phone. If you and your friends, want to discuss work, why not sit in adjoining seats, that way you're not YELLING ABOUT YOUR BOSS AT EACH OTHER FROM ACROSS THE CAR? We don't care about your boss, we have our own problems!

No Boob sampling, unless they are yours, under penalty of flogging!

You creeps that get off peeping up skirts, down blouses, and rubbing against the lady trying to read her kindle, well you dirt-bags, this section is for you.

More to come, choosing choice words for this sensitive subject matter....

If your child is popping the person behind you on the head, stop them from doing so. If your foot touches someone else's pants leg, apologize, and move your foot. If you squeeze between two people for the vacant seat, and you are seated on their coat or jacket, politely move it.

Just for fun, here's more stupid S#1T people do on the Subway...Someone PLEASE PULL THE EMERGENCY BRAKE!!

Stay tuned, more to come....

Thanks to: Trainpigs.com, New York Magazine, Lori Harfenist / The Resident, Spy Magazine, YouTube