I met my sister in Penn Station after work today to head to Jersey for the weekend. At 5:30, ULTIMATE RUSH HOUR. On FRIDAY. People that don’t live in NYC don’t really understand the insanity that goes on during this time of day in the busiest train hub in America. Actually, scratch that. Reverse it. People that don’t live in NYC absolutely know all too well this kind of insanity. It’s us that do live in NYC that don’t understand it, because we don’t have to do it everyday like the rest of them. And let me tell you, IT IS FUCKING CRAZY.
I would rather have someone give me papercuts in my eyes and pull out my fingernails than have to deal with all that madness. People just literally run at full speed, presumably trying to catch their train. It doesn’t matter if you’re standing still in the middle of an empty space – THEY WILL RUN YOU OVER. And then they’ll snarl back at you over their shoulder because that extra half a second it took to bump into you? Well that’s the one half a second that might matter, and it will be all YOUR fault if they end up missing their ride.
And watch out for all the rolling luggage, JESUS! You’ll lose a toe! In fact, I bet most of these “regular” commuters only have like 3 toes, because they’ve all been CHOPPED off by rolling luggage. It’s a serious health hazard, no one should be allowed to roll their luggage three feet behind them where they can’t fucking see it.
Thank god my sister had the beautiful idea to grab a few beers and drink them out of brown bags on the way home. (We are such classy bitches.) They really helped to calm me down. Now that we’re here I’m drinking vodka straight from the bottle, and hoping that I don’t end up with a case of post traumatic stress disorder.
Thank god it’s Friday.
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