I got on the 7 train out to Queens this afternoon, and things were going OK. Not that crowded, no one seemed annoying. At Grand Central, we picked up a load of people. This 30-something guy sat down, took out an aerosol container of Degree anti-perspirant, and started spot spraying all over his shirt. Powder scent flying everywhere.
"Well," I figured, "at least I'm having a better day than one passenger in this car."
As the train passed into the East River tunnel, my attention wandered to this older gentleman who was standing at the other door, facing me. He was ooooold. You could saw him in half to count the rings, but he'd probably disintigrate. He was still fairly tall, and trying to strike a dignified pose as he stood there. Then my eyes involuntarily jiggled a bit, and I realized I was staring right into the groin of an old man who just pissed himself. He was drenched. I held my composure and quickly jumped off the subway at Hunters Point.
I took the long walk from the Hunters Point subway stop to the coincidentally named Hunterspoint LIRR station. I got on the LIRR train, and awaited departure. As we pulled out, I looked up and Whiz Guy came shambling down the aisle, alighting in a seat across from mine. He sat by the window and crossed his legs.
I couldn't deal with an hour watching him, so I moved three seats down. The train stopped at Jamaica, and for some reason it got jam-packed with people. Not a single seat free. I knew someone would be stuck sitting next to Whiz Guy.
I minded my own business until the train got to Bay Shore. I got up as the train went through West Islip, and walked past my Pee Friend. A woman was sitting next to him, and she appeared to be near tears. I looked over at the guy, and he had found napkins. He was sitting there mopping himself up, clutching a pile of bright yellow towelettes.
So anyway, I am never taking the train again.