Oh, the Big Apple.
Last night, in this grand 'lil town we like to call New York City, I had the privilege of seeing my favorite band, Wilco, open for Neil Young, who could impregnate you if you drank from the same cup that he did 25 years ago.
After this once-in-a-lifetime show, I boarded the trusty A train to head home. It wasn't long into my trip before my travel partner and I noticed a large, possibly homeless (I don't want to be judgemental, but he didn't look like he had any place to keep a set of keys. Oh, except maybe in his open sores.) man had taken his pants down and was urinating/defecating on the other end of the train.
Deciding that Neil Young was the only person who I would have allowed to defecate on me that evening, we decided to move to another car at the next stop.
And we did. And upon entering and moving to an available seat, I stepped right in something a previous passenger must have forgotten on the train. Their vomit.
Only In New York, right?!?!?! Oh, probably also in prison. I bet this type of stuff happens there all the time.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
hit counter Hits and self esteem are positively correlated, so please click "reload." My neighbors, who will benefit from a significant increase in the number of Haagen-Dazs pints available to them at our corner deli, thank you. And I do, too.
0 comments:
Post a Comment