1. Love Found on the Subway
That there are 8,000,00 stories in the Naked City of course doesn't mean one, like, needs to become familiar with each. Some are just, you know, too yucky....
So I'm subwaying up to Grand Central from work Tues. evening. Get to grab a seat on one of them two-person seats next to a 20-something woman reading an esoteric-looking novel -- very collegiate, grad student looking....
Train takes a curve a little fast so that the girl slides into me with a little bump: absolute nothing, you know, nothing to freak over.
And that's followed by a little girly punch, I realized to get my attention, so she could apologise for the bump.
I go back to what I'm doing...
And all of sudden, there's her hand on my bag. Ithink: "WTF?!?"
One of the primo rules in the Big City for dealing with this kind of mishugas is to ignore it so that maybe it goes a away.
"Hold it," she says. I do, it seems benign enough.
Soon, we're approaching GCT. I get up a little early, in part to get a little distance.
In fact, it's just a little but not enough.
As the train makes the curve towards the Grand Central platform, I feel a little kick in my foot.
I look at her, she's looking at me.
The kick was her little way of saying bye-bye.
And P.S .: this incident was nowhere near the worst part of the afternoon and evening -- but that's another story (and having lived it, it is of absolutely no entertainment value).
And P.-P.S.: There's a reason this happened: C.P. had clearly put a New Orleans Southern swamp girl hex on me that morning....
So I'm subwaying up to Grand Central from work Tues. evening. Get to grab a seat on one of them two-person seats next to a 20-something woman reading an esoteric-looking novel -- very collegiate, grad student looking....
Train takes a curve a little fast so that the girl slides into me with a little bump: absolute nothing, you know, nothing to freak over.
And that's followed by a little girly punch, I realized to get my attention, so she could apologise for the bump.
I go back to what I'm doing...
And all of sudden, there's her hand on my bag. Ithink: "WTF?!?"
One of the primo rules in the Big City for dealing with this kind of mishugas is to ignore it so that maybe it goes a away.
"Hold it," she says. I do, it seems benign enough.
Soon, we're approaching GCT. I get up a little early, in part to get a little distance.
In fact, it's just a little but not enough.
As the train makes the curve towards the Grand Central platform, I feel a little kick in my foot.
I look at her, she's looking at me.
The kick was her little way of saying bye-bye.
And P.S .: this incident was nowhere near the worst part of the afternoon and evening -- but that's another story (and having lived it, it is of absolutely no entertainment value).
And P.-P.S.: There's a reason this happened: C.P. had clearly put a New Orleans Southern swamp girl hex on me that morning....
posted by The Seditionist at 8:29 AM
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