My coworker Brooke once said that the mark of a really excellent subway ride is having a mentally unstable member of society personally dedicated to making your commute miserable. Well, today must be my lucky, lucky day. This morning on the 4 train, I had my own personal crazy.
From the get-go, the train was all elbows and handbags (for most of the ride, I wasn’t sure which of the two was jabbing me in the ass). My Personal Crazy saw that this was the case, that there was absolutely no room for her, but damn if she wasn’t eager for the early morning challenge. As the doors were bouncing off her shoulders, she screeched that she was getting on this mother-effing train, and I had better move. Who wouldn’t be persuaded by that kind of charm? I tightened my grip on the cold metal pole and didn’t budge. Taste my pain, bitch!
But she was a wily one and managed to squeeze in while loudly declaring herself “a worm! An old school worm!”
Boring a hole into my forehead with her beady little eyes, my Personal Crazy spent the next twenty-something blocks hollering about how she was “old school” and lecturing me on respecting my “elderlies.” She was maybe fifty-five. Maybe. There was nothing elderly about her. And in my opinion, anyone throwing around the term ‘old school’ is a least a few years short of aged and infirm. I’m just sayin’. But one does not speak back to tough, old school worms from the Bronx. They will cut you.
When the train emptied at Grand Central, I edged further into the car and sank down into one of the vacant seats, pulling my gym bag into my lap. My Personal Crazy followed.
“You not gonna let me sit?”
I looked to my left, where the rest of the bench was empty, except for a crumpled copy of the Post and a blow-pop wrapper. Oh, so this is the game we’re playing. I gave her a blank stare.
“I can’t believe you’re not going to let me sit! I really need to sit!”
“You all worn out from yelling?” I asked, motioning with my hand to the spaces to my left, knowing full-well she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had my seat.
“You need to respect your elderlies!”
I made a show of turning up my iPod and wedging the earphones deeper into my ears. I was done playing nutty; it was just too early and I hadn’t had my coffee. She continued raving until an older Indian woman gestured her toward her own seat, and she sat, finally content. As I was getting off the train at Union Square, I heard my Personal Crazy declare that this train had better hurry up. She was on her way to jury duty.
“Of course you are,” I thought, and then my heart filled with pity for eleven strangers, and a defendant who didn’t stand a chance. She was their personal crazy now.
I actually snorted when I read that.
My favorite thing to do on a crowded bus, back before I became a self-propelled commuter, was to find a teenaged boy who was taking up a lot of room. I’d sit next to them and make sure my knee touched his and voila, suddenly I had lots of room.
Wouldn’t work for you though and theoretically it shouldn’t have worked 10% of the time.
I don’t know how you refrained yourself from slapping her.
Gotta love New York…
I can scarcely go out in public without picking up at least one personal crazy of my own.
Freak magnets of the world, unite!
Only in good ol’ NY will you get that… the crazies here in Oregon ride bikes
Funny post!
Wow. I thought I was the only one that had experience with personal subway crazies. Sheesh.
Had a similar experience on the bus, once. Only my personal crazy was a little person. A homeless little person, who felt the need to challenge the rest of us. He then singled out a very large, very scary looking man and threatened (repeatedly and very loudly) to beat his effing ass. (Apparently, he was a wrestler in his day.) We breathed a collective sigh of relief when the bus driver finally had enough and gave him the boot.
You are funny girl! And I’m so glad I found your blog. You remind me a lot of myself… how lucky for the rest of society that there could be two like us out here. You know though, that we are other peoples personal-crazies right?
You can’t live or work in NY without your very own Personal Crazy story…and if you can?! Well, just wait…it’ll happen sooner or later!
She may claim be old school, but she was totally playa hatin’ instead of playa appreciatin’ on you. That right there, is proof of false old schooling or skiz-ooling, depending on you favored parlance.
Mike, seriously.
I just squirted tea out my nose.
Oh! My! God!! Your Personal Crazy is either funneling my Crazy Cat-Lady Aunt, or my CCLA is out of her cage in Atlanta and gone to New York to pester the good citizens there.
Egads!
Over here in good ole canada (the west coast), we got our share of crazies too. mostly though they’re too out of their minds to bother you. They usually chew inedible things like metal, or talk to themselves or their imaginary friends, or just sit there and smell bad….
I hate the purse thing though….and the elbowing
first time poster, long time reader.
just like to thank you for lending me insight into the crazy minds of women all over(The Fish and Posters alike). This blog is like a Cosmo issue without the TOP 10 NEW LOOKS FOR SPRING and all the other BS.
anyway, about the crazies in NYC, I was in New York a few weeks back and I shared a cab with a lady heading from central to my friend’s place in BFE, turns out she was a prosty and whipped out a titty trying to entice me with the goods, the cabbie laughed his ass off. classy lady in a classy city.
P.S.
Book to Check Out, if you haven’t already: Palestine – by Joe Sacco
Tunes to check out:
Son Volt- The Search
i recently found myself on the subway (B, i believe) wedged against the window between two unhappily married crazies-her to my side, essentially trapping me, him at my knees at the end of the 3-seater. she spent thier whole ride, a good 20 minutes, pulling scented soaps out of her stained tote and invegeling her grumpy and senile husband/boyfreind to “smell my soap!! hey, smell my soap!!!” while darting glances over at me. not so much, i think, out of concern for me, worry that maybe after a hard day of work i don’t want to be bombarded with yelling and the smell of old lady mixed with fake rain scent, but more out of fear that i might mess with her precious, smelly soap.
Wow – you really held back. Good for you. I would have mouthed off to her and gotten my ASS beat!
This is too funny – It reminded me of a few similar experiences I’ve had on public transportation over the years!
this reminded me of my experiences on the subway. I used to just stare and say..’no english…no english…no english’. just like the new bud light…………it used to be so hilarious!!!
This is exactly why I scrimped and saved to get myself a car.
Only in my case, it was less about the crazies and more to get away from pervs groping and “accidentally” pressing against me. Just so tired of the constant harassment.
lol. That is hilarious.
DAH!! YOU’RE BRINGING BACK PAINFUL MEMORIES!! Although if you really want to stick it to Karma, you should try to be someone’s Own Personal Crazy next time. Surely it would brighten your day.
Loved this one Fish, made me laugh. In fact I’m still smiling. Partly because I remember my own personal crazy from just a few days ago. They’re much tamer behind the Orange Curtain though. I don’t think they “cut.”
Ciao bella…hope you have a less crazy week ahead of you.
My car thanks you…as I am going to wash her and possibly kiss her. I already am my *own* personal crazy. God forbid, I would have to share my mornings with another one.
Haven’t posted here in a long time. I enjoy your writing style.
Don’t let the crazies get to you, and remember to respect your elderlies.
Fish, next time just use my time-honored Chicago-style crazy-repellent:
throw your hands up in the air, shake your booty and sing!! Doesn’t matter how crowded the subway car is – trust me people will get the hell out of your way.
Y’all gonna make me lose my mind
up in here up in here
Y’all gonna make me do some time
up in here up in here
Y’all gonna make me act a fool
up in here up in here
Y’all gonna make me lose my cool
up in here up in here
If, after one or two verses of this, your crazy doesn’t either dissolve into hysterical laughter or run off the train, THEN you got problems, girl!
Chris, I love it! Fight crazy with crazy! I’m trying this tomorrow morning. I have yet to learn to deal with the rush hour commute through Times Square (yuk!)
I can totally picture this woman, sad to say.
i love it, she sounds like my great aunt
NOW theres a personal crazy