Street Etiquette.
I know I promised less ranting in 2007 (which is off to a great start BTW) but I just can't help it.
What's with people these days? Even with my worthless Eastern European pedigree I know better than to do certain things when I'm out in public. When you occupy space with other strangers, and especially in New York when the you to stranger ratio is about 1:23000, there are just certain rules of conduct to be followed. If not for the sake of propriety, at least for the sake of maintaining order. Here's the rundown.
RULES OF THE STREET
1) When it rains in New York, it fucking pours. And since the island is on an incline, all of the water and sewage and debris seems to run into Lower Manhattan, where I live. Circumnavigating the puddles and streams of grey water is task enough, but carrying an umbrella is also necessary since it literally comes down in quarter sized dollops by the million. Now, remember that you've also got 23000 strangers on the street who are also carrying umbrellas... And the little Asian girls who are like a foot and a half tall just lo-ho-houve carrying those gigantic golf caddie ones. So here's the deal: if you're walking with a shield, when you walk by someone else, you raise it or lower it in order to prevent it from shredding your fellow commuters. And if you're carrying one of those the size of a football field, guess what. You're walking in the street, by your God damn self. If I had a dime for every time I've been scraped by the eye or jabbed in the waist by a wayward brolly... I could buy a Slurpee.
2) Teenaged girls love nothing more than linking arms and attacking the sidewalk six to a daisy chain, blocking essentially the enire thing. That would be enough, but on top of that.... They're teenage girls. Who grew up in New York. Meaning they giggle too much, scream over one another, wear jeans so tight and camel-toeing that it makes me wonder where their mothers are, and collectively walk at the pace of the slowest one, relegating anyone behind them to slow down in tow. They make me want to put about twenty feet of space between us and then Red Rover right through the middle of that shit, smearing their little faces on the pavement. (Bitches.)
3) Speaking of people taking up the entire sidewalk..... Oh my God, these women and their fucking babies. An infant is roughly the size of a football. Does your little bundle of sunshine really need a stroller that's as big as the Pentagon? Why must I be punished because you were drunk and therefore horny and let your absentee husband pork you without your diaphragm? Is it my fault that the one time he has a twinkle in his eye and finally a boner, that twinkle turns into a little shit machine nine months later, and now here we are and you and your brat and his flying goddamn saucer of a crib on wheels are taking up the whole sidewalk? Is it fair that I have to be late to brunch because your careless ass got knocked the fuck up? I don't think so. Either get a stroller that is no wider than Little Lord Fauntleroy over there or teach him to walk a year early. Jesus Christ.
4) I've never really understood why men take it upon themselves to hock loogies, but I understand it to be one of those simple facts that I just have to live with. However, is it necessary to dispose of them in plain view of others, and right on the sidewalk no less? I generally like to avoid eye contact with passerby, so I tend to look at my feet as they make their way along the streets. And there's just nothing quite like seeing a nice big pile of vomit-inducing green phlegm surrounded by a tiny pool of bubbling spit, sitting there like a little mucuous sunny-side-up egg. If you must loog, gentlemen, and if you must insist on making that sound where you dredge snot from your bowels, then please look around to the left and right to make sure no one is watching. And when you evacuate it, do so in a proper receptacle; a trashcan, a subway grate, a flower planter or that lady's yappy dog will all do nicely.
RULES OF THE UNDERGROUND
1) This one drives me crazy. When a subway makes a stop, doors open; travellers departing get off the train, arriving passengers then board the train. Common sense. Right? Wrong. On the NYC Metro, people routinely barrel into the train, wildly looking for a seat, before the people in the back have even had a chance to approach the doors. It is so fucking rude and it drives me absolutely bananas. It also causes people to sometimes miss their stop because the operators automatically close the doors as soon as the influx has entered. The biggest offenders are a) elderly Chinese women, b) old white dudes in suits, and c) trannies. It makes me wish for Bruce Banner powers. Just wait. Okay? Just keep your fucking pants on until everyone has gotten off, making room for you and your disco boots.
2) And speaking of common sense.... Walking in stairwells. You stick to the right side. That way people are neatly organized into one-directional queues. Common sense. Right?!?!? Not here, friends. Here's it's a fight for survival. I love nothing more than to get off the C just as the F downstairs has ejaculated it's enormous load of passengers, and they are now making a mass exodus to the upstairs platform. I stand at the top of the stairs like Noah at the gates of the Arc, helpless until the last creature has concluded the vestibule-consuming stampede. Only then can I politely make my way to the downstairs trains, on the right side of the stairwell. Dreadful.
3) I'll keep this one short. When the train is full, that's it. Doors close, you wait for the next one. If you try to shove your way in when there's clearly no room, and I happen to be right at the entrance, guess what? You're getting punched right in the babymaker.
4) And what's with people bringing enormous objects on the train with them? So you found a crappy couch on a sidewalk on the Upper West Side, congratulations. Must you bring it home with you (to the East Village, no less) in the middle of rush hour? How about you, Bike Messenger Dude, all geared out with your giant retard helmet and your grippy gloves and your Under Armour? If you're such a ride head with your giant fancy two wheeler there shouldn't you be riding your bike instead of taking the subway? And what about you, lady? It wasn't enough to dominate the sidewalk with your baby car, now you have to stuff that giant thing into a train too? I'm sorry, those kinds of endeavors should be the sole provenance of the lonely ass 6 train on the weekends. Selfish.
What's with people these days? Even with my worthless Eastern European pedigree I know better than to do certain things when I'm out in public. When you occupy space with other strangers, and especially in New York when the you to stranger ratio is about 1:23000, there are just certain rules of conduct to be followed. If not for the sake of propriety, at least for the sake of maintaining order. Here's the rundown.
RULES OF THE STREET
1) When it rains in New York, it fucking pours. And since the island is on an incline, all of the water and sewage and debris seems to run into Lower Manhattan, where I live. Circumnavigating the puddles and streams of grey water is task enough, but carrying an umbrella is also necessary since it literally comes down in quarter sized dollops by the million. Now, remember that you've also got 23000 strangers on the street who are also carrying umbrellas... And the little Asian girls who are like a foot and a half tall just lo-ho-houve carrying those gigantic golf caddie ones. So here's the deal: if you're walking with a shield, when you walk by someone else, you raise it or lower it in order to prevent it from shredding your fellow commuters. And if you're carrying one of those the size of a football field, guess what. You're walking in the street, by your God damn self. If I had a dime for every time I've been scraped by the eye or jabbed in the waist by a wayward brolly... I could buy a Slurpee.
2) Teenaged girls love nothing more than linking arms and attacking the sidewalk six to a daisy chain, blocking essentially the enire thing. That would be enough, but on top of that.... They're teenage girls. Who grew up in New York. Meaning they giggle too much, scream over one another, wear jeans so tight and camel-toeing that it makes me wonder where their mothers are, and collectively walk at the pace of the slowest one, relegating anyone behind them to slow down in tow. They make me want to put about twenty feet of space between us and then Red Rover right through the middle of that shit, smearing their little faces on the pavement. (Bitches.)
3) Speaking of people taking up the entire sidewalk..... Oh my God, these women and their fucking babies. An infant is roughly the size of a football. Does your little bundle of sunshine really need a stroller that's as big as the Pentagon? Why must I be punished because you were drunk and therefore horny and let your absentee husband pork you without your diaphragm? Is it my fault that the one time he has a twinkle in his eye and finally a boner, that twinkle turns into a little shit machine nine months later, and now here we are and you and your brat and his flying goddamn saucer of a crib on wheels are taking up the whole sidewalk? Is it fair that I have to be late to brunch because your careless ass got knocked the fuck up? I don't think so. Either get a stroller that is no wider than Little Lord Fauntleroy over there or teach him to walk a year early. Jesus Christ.
4) I've never really understood why men take it upon themselves to hock loogies, but I understand it to be one of those simple facts that I just have to live with. However, is it necessary to dispose of them in plain view of others, and right on the sidewalk no less? I generally like to avoid eye contact with passerby, so I tend to look at my feet as they make their way along the streets. And there's just nothing quite like seeing a nice big pile of vomit-inducing green phlegm surrounded by a tiny pool of bubbling spit, sitting there like a little mucuous sunny-side-up egg. If you must loog, gentlemen, and if you must insist on making that sound where you dredge snot from your bowels, then please look around to the left and right to make sure no one is watching. And when you evacuate it, do so in a proper receptacle; a trashcan, a subway grate, a flower planter or that lady's yappy dog will all do nicely.
RULES OF THE UNDERGROUND
1) This one drives me crazy. When a subway makes a stop, doors open; travellers departing get off the train, arriving passengers then board the train. Common sense. Right? Wrong. On the NYC Metro, people routinely barrel into the train, wildly looking for a seat, before the people in the back have even had a chance to approach the doors. It is so fucking rude and it drives me absolutely bananas. It also causes people to sometimes miss their stop because the operators automatically close the doors as soon as the influx has entered. The biggest offenders are a) elderly Chinese women, b) old white dudes in suits, and c) trannies. It makes me wish for Bruce Banner powers. Just wait. Okay? Just keep your fucking pants on until everyone has gotten off, making room for you and your disco boots.
2) And speaking of common sense.... Walking in stairwells. You stick to the right side. That way people are neatly organized into one-directional queues. Common sense. Right?!?!? Not here, friends. Here's it's a fight for survival. I love nothing more than to get off the C just as the F downstairs has ejaculated it's enormous load of passengers, and they are now making a mass exodus to the upstairs platform. I stand at the top of the stairs like Noah at the gates of the Arc, helpless until the last creature has concluded the vestibule-consuming stampede. Only then can I politely make my way to the downstairs trains, on the right side of the stairwell. Dreadful.
3) I'll keep this one short. When the train is full, that's it. Doors close, you wait for the next one. If you try to shove your way in when there's clearly no room, and I happen to be right at the entrance, guess what? You're getting punched right in the babymaker.
4) And what's with people bringing enormous objects on the train with them? So you found a crappy couch on a sidewalk on the Upper West Side, congratulations. Must you bring it home with you (to the East Village, no less) in the middle of rush hour? How about you, Bike Messenger Dude, all geared out with your giant retard helmet and your grippy gloves and your Under Armour? If you're such a ride head with your giant fancy two wheeler there shouldn't you be riding your bike instead of taking the subway? And what about you, lady? It wasn't enough to dominate the sidewalk with your baby car, now you have to stuff that giant thing into a train too? I'm sorry, those kinds of endeavors should be the sole provenance of the lonely ass 6 train on the weekends. Selfish.
posted by Attica Wolfcastle, Esq. at 8:18 PM
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