"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