Bush Hour

Yesterday I found myself on the 4 train at the height of rush hour.

i don't take the 4 train for a number of reasons. Too crowded, TOO crowded, TOO FUCKING CROWDED. Especially before the 9am hour. Unfortunately for me, that is the hand that was dealt to me that day, so I sucked it up, put my ipod on full blast and jammed out to some Les Savy Fav to tune everyone out around me.

When I got off at my stop, 4 bajillion people got off with me. I tried to dart around all the assholes who were in absolutely NO hurry to get to work on a Monday morning, preferring to shuffle through the subway station like a bunch of zombies. I'm guessing nobody had had a chance to get their coffee yet or else everyone was feeling more than slightly shitty at the financial downturn and disaster we are about to experience. But I digress.

I found myself behind an older gentleman who was carrying a few plastic bags. I was hot on his trail as he moseyed through the turnstile. Right behind him, I pushed through, and then found myself stuck.

Somehow, the old dude's plastic bag handle had wrapped itself around the turnstile while I started to go through it, and after he extricated the bag...the turnstile wouldn't move. I was trapped inside of it, and realized that the only way I was getting out was to do a high kick over the offending piece of metal that had me in its grasp.

As I am known to do, I was wearing the miniest of minis, with the tiniest of thongs underneath, so my high kick was basically a free show to the old man, and basically the entirety of the subway station.

Throw in the fact that I have given up all but the bare minimum of grooming essentials, and well...I'll just let you use your imagination there.

And another case of the Mondays was born..