"Subway Series" *Beauty Edition*

I hate people. I especially hate people who stare.


It’s not particularly crowded on the platform. My “Soul” playlist is playing and I’m feeling quite mellow. Dwele, D’Angelo, Bilal, Jill Scott, etc sing into my ears I don’t even realize I’ve been waiting almost 20 minutes before a train arrives. It finally does and the commuters board. I slide into a seat. I’m not sleepy but the music has wrapped its arms around me and I feel as if I’m floating. There’s just something about soul music that does this to me and it’s a welcomed feeling.

The sounds of drums and bass fill my ears as D’Angelo’s melodious voice sings, “Send it on back to you”. My eyes open slowly as the train comes to a stop and more commuters enter. My mouth opens slightly with surprise as a woman walks on. She is by far one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life. Her skin was like the color of honey and looked as smooth. She wore no make up and her skin was flawless. Atop her head, to the naked eye, sat what appeared a careless hump..but to me it looked like a carefully quaffed crown of her glorious locks. She wasn’t dressed spectacularly. She simply wore a tee shirt and jeans. I couldn’t stop looking at her.

I felt my face flush as I realized three songs had passed and I was still staring. I really had never seen such a natural beauty just riding the train on a weekday afternoon. I was amazed. I looked away but continued to steal glances. She noticed. She didn’t exactly roll her eyes but I could tell she was thinking “What the hell?”

I wanted to express to her what a beauty she was but wondered if she would think I’m trying to hit on her. I wasn’t. I really just thought she was genuinely beautiful.

We approached my stop for transfer and I stood. I walked to her and I said, “I apologize miss, I know your wondering what the hell I’m staring at”, I chuckled, “I just wanted to tell you, you are absolutely beautiful.” There, I said it! I was surprised that her eyes filled with tears and she smiled a sad little smile. “Thank you” she said quietly, “You have no idea how much that means to me”. I was completely taken aback. I smiled uncomfortably as I exited the train wondering what just happened.

A small Hispanic man walked by licking his lips, “Aye mami, lookin’ good!” he yelled. He was wearing large headphones. I rolled my eyes and sneered as I rushed across the platform to catch my connecting train. Lmfao



*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA

Subway Series "Gangsta Edition"

Rap music makes me violent. Especially 50Cent's, "Get Rich or Die trying" album.

"We don't play dat, we don't play dat, we don't play dat, G-Unit, we don't play around" blasted in my ears as I bopped to the beat. Wearing a white fitted tee, green linen pants, eighties shades, and my Giuseppe slippers, hair blowing in the wind, I was anything BUT "gangsta" but that didn't stop me from walking with a bop, hands in pockets, a slight sneer on my face (you know my face) as I mouthed the words to the song.

As usual people are staring but 50 has me thinking I'm tough, so I'm ready to fight. Not caring that he's about 6'4" and 300lbs, I snarl at the man standing to my right. He turns away.

A short hispanic man descends the stairs carrying a wheel chair. A girl about 7 or 8 follows him, and a middle aged woman limps down the stairs behind them. The train arrives. It's ridiculously crowded. It's rush hour. The woman gets on in her wheelchair and parks herself by the door. At the next stop, a young woman gets on with a baby in a carriage, a toddler and a six or seven year old. A middle aged man with a big bushy mustache pushes past her to take the seat beside me. I mutter some curses and roll my eyes at him as he opens up his paper.

The woman stands at the other door with her carriage and children.

So now that's a woman in a wheelchair with a kid, a woman with a baby in a carriage and 2 other kids, both standing at opposite doors, and it's RUSH HOUR! Fml

What do you think happens next? My iPod dies and on walks a panhandler! He sure is talking a lot. He stops beside the woman with her kids and in a voice that is hardly understandable says that he loves children and that hers are beautiful. She smiles a weak smile. Her face flushes slightly with embarrassment. I imagine she's praying he goes away.

I'm sitting between a fat woman and the man with his paper. He is fidgeting way to much. Going into his pockets, opening his paper wide, then closing it. I've already inched as close to the fat woman as I can. With no tunes he is REALLY annoying me. Only a few more stops to go. I can endure it right?

He sneezes. I cringe.

Thank God it's my stop!

I stand to get of the train but not before I elbow the fuck out of him. I smile a little smile as I exit the train. Oh the little things that make me happy.



*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA.

Subway Series *Welcome Home Editon*

It's no secret that I hate people. I especially hate overly eager men. *rolls eyes*


After a week of riding up and down VA, MD, and DC highways in luxury cars, the subway is not a welcomed ride.

I stand on the platform, head bopping, lost in my thoughts and my music.

The train arrives and I take a seat, happy that it's relatively empty. I don't scan the car for strange people. I immediately close my eyes and let the music envelope me.

I realize the train has been immobile for quite some time. I open my eyes to see a tiny old woman push her way onto the train, hitting people with her tiny shopping cart, filled with tattered bags and papers. Her long, gray, hair is a tangled mess and it looks as if she has attempted to put it in a ponytail. Her clothes are dirty and the large collar and bell shaped pants give her the look of a 70's sitcom character. She sits down crossing her legs and arms. She purses her lips, looking around, disdainfully as the conductor announces the last stop on the train will be 96th Street. She's trying to make eye contact with anyone so she can strike up a conversation. I avert my eyes but the young man standing near me is not so lucky. She slaps her thigh engaging in one sided dialogue, complaining about the MTA. The guy, a rocker Mexican with large holes in his ears, tattoos and spikes is staring at her, nodding occasionally and looking around as if to say "Help me".

The train still hasn't moved and I'm tempted to get off and take a cab. Of course as soon as I get ready to stand the doors close. I close my eyes again and lean back as it pulls into the next stop. I feel a tap on my arm. I open my eyes slowly to see a guy in a flannel shirt and unshaven beard, smiling waving a party flyer. I smile politely and shake my head no. He's talking. He's not particularly unattractive but definitely not my type. I'm looking at him not hearing and not caring what he's saying. Why is he still trying to shove his flyer at me?

Now I'm annoyed. I'm tempted to snatch the flyer and toss it on the floor. I growl, "I said no thanks".

My iPod chooses to die at this very moment. "..cause I think your beautiful and different.", he's saying. Is he for real? Having a whole conversation with me?

" This is 96th Street. This is the last stop. You can take a shuttle bus, blah blah blah". I jump up and make a mad dash for the door. Flyer boy is yelling after me about my number. I'm not interested in taking the bus. I'm gonna catch a cab.

At the top of the subway stairs, on a crate, sits a man with one leg, sipping coffee. His prosthetic leg, with sock and sneaker sat on the ground beside him.

Only in NY. Welcome home to me!



*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA

"Subway Series" *Heatwave Edition*

This has been one of the hottest summers I can remember and today is no exception. It's sweltering!


Dressed in dark, skinny jeans, a black camisole, a fedora, Hollywood shades, arms full of gold bangles and leather wristband, I strut up the stairs to wait for the train. My make up is flawless and my skin shimmers. I'm heading to perform at a show and I feel fab and don't even care that people are staring, yet.

Bilal's sweet melodic voice sings "I wanna be your one and only" in my ears. The train arrives quickly and I walk on scanning the car for a seat. There's a couple vacancies scattered about. Beside a young girl with a chubby baby in a baby sling, a middle aged woman with glasses and her bag on the seat, a young guy in large headphones and a middle aged woman wearing knee length shorts, a visor and a jean jacket. I sit beside the woman with her bag on the seat. She seems annoyed by this and I ask her if there is a problem. "No", she says quickly and pulls out a magazine.

I settle in and allow myself to be enveloped in the sweet sounds coming from my headphones. The train has stopped for what seems like an extended period so I open my eyes and look around, still rocking to the music.

The announcement says something about train traffic. I'm still swaying and singing a little and looking around at the other passengers. I look at the woman in the long shorts. Beneath her visor are a pair of grandma glasses and behind those, a set of crazy eyes. They are darting back and forth as she swings her legs. She has a strange smile on her face, as if she knows a secret that she wants to tell. I almost burst out laughing she looks so insane, but I look over at the man that has taken the seat next to her. He could easily be anywhere from 45 to 75. He is in incredible shape. Dressed in a cowboy hat and a black, fitted, "I <3 NY t-shirt his pecks and muscular arms are on display. I notice many, small, dark spots on his arms and wonder if he is a recovering addict. I look up at a handle bar mustache and eyes behind tinted glasses. He's staring. Oh gosh I hope he doesn't think I'm attracted to him. I quickly look away as I see the corners of his mouth twitch about to form a smile. I turn to my left toward the guy with the headphones. Why did I do this? I realize he too is staring. He's bouncing his head and doing odd motions with his hands and arms. Wtf? Is he throwing up gang signs at me? I frown as I realize he's doing dance moves. His back pack is on the floor between his legs. He's wearing a t-shirt, sneakers and parachute pants. Perhaps he's a dancer or maybe he is just corny. Either way I'm not interested. He is still staring and doing twisted arm movements. I roll my eyes behind my dark shades and concentrate on my music.

He picks up his bag and stands by the door across from me. He's rather tall and not that bad looking but I think of the convo I had with my "Juicy" about men and dancing and I giggle to myself.

I shake my head as I realize he is not getting off the train he just wanted to be in my line of sight. Are you fucking kidding me? He is staring at me and doing his arm movements and now he has incorporated some foot movement. Is he putting on a show for me? Is he trying to do voodoo on me with this fucking rain dance? I avert my gaze and I'm back to the cowboy who's licking his lips.

FML! I want off this train!



*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA

"Subway Series" *Drunk First lady edition*

Remember my disdain for riding the trains on the weekend? Yeah!

It's been a wonderful day of laughter, drinks, and merriment with the girls. Now I'm tired and ready 2 go home. It's not too late so the train is a good, economical choice, right? WRONG!!


The rest of the girls are gone and I look at the sign which reads, "No service at this station. Take downtown train to Brooklyn Bridge.." Blah blah blah. I'll hop in a cab to 14th street because I'm not riding downtown to come back uptown and then take another train.

I get to 14th Street station. A couple trains pass. (Not my train of course) then a local train announces, "No 5 train service at this station. Take this train to grand central". I suck my teeth as I scurry onto the train and am sandwiched between a girlfriend and boyfriend who are talking nonsense and getting on my nerves.

Did I mention I've been drinking? We arrive at Grand central and my train is across the platform. A swarm of commuters run to the train only to have the doors close in our faces.

I'm beyond annoyed now as the effects of my shots and unlimited cocktails start to kick in. A train finally arrives. I push my way past people and snuggle into a seat preparing to nap until I reach my stop.

Not even two stops into a nap my nostrils are accosted by a stench. It was a mixture of hotdog juice and onions wrapped in garbage, sprinkled with gym socks. I turn to my right alarmed that the smell was coming from a woman!! Her mousy brown hair, hung limp at her shoulders. Her thick glasses sat at the bridge of her nose. Her pale skin was pasty with sweat.

I'm breathing heavy trying to swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat. I know you're thinking, "Just move"..Ummm..I've been drinking and my feet hurt from walking around, playing celebrity and posing with strangers in Tribeca and Soho. I'm not moving. *purses lips*

The entire ride this light bright dude, who resembles R&B singer, The Dream, dressed in a flannel shirt, and a visor (yes, really, a visor) has been staring at me, licking his lips. He rolls up his sleeves to display his tattooed arms. I suck my teeth, mumbling, "Fucking cornball. Tattoos can't help your corny ass". I roll my eyes and averted his gaze. He's still staring.

"What the fuck are u looking at!?" I scream. Did I mention I'm dressed in a church hat, blazer and dress. Looking like the first lady? I hear a bunch of gasps and murmurs. I'm sure they think I've just left church. Little do they know, I'm half past drunk.


Way to represent huh? Oh goody, my stop. "Fuck y'all", I mumble as I sashay off the train.



*ding dong*

Thank you for riding the MTA