>Train encounters

8 Sep

>I was just stuck underground for 56 minutes. On a train. Without AC.

Let me repeat, smelly peeps, 20 blocks, 56 minutes. A one-legged turtle could carry me faster — with laptop in bag.

You might think I was ready to kill a kitten, because that’s how us New Yorkers roll.

But alas, handsome man to the rescue.

Killer suit, Don Draper hair, Kindle in hand. (Omgee what Don Draper could have done for the Kindle.)

Dude would read a few lines, look up and flash me the classic I’m annoyed too, but ain’t a thang we can do, honey look.

I would look down and flash the I can think of a few things that would pass the time look.

He would raise and eyebrow that said, My place?

I’d look away, Oh my. I didn’t mean that. I was going to suggest reading over your shoulder…

He would be all, Forgive me. Let me buy you a drink.

I’d be all, I don’t accept drinks from strangers.

He’d be all. Well don’t be a stranger. My place. 8pm.

Unfortunately, the only look dude really flashed was his wedding ring.

And a look that said none too subtly, Why are you staring at me and blogging at the same time?

Next time, I’m cabbing it.


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