Crosstown Local Video Du Jour: Friday Night

As I have mentioned previously yours truly has been out and about a lot this week. This is in some part due to the fact I have inexplicably accumulated a number of friends whose birthdays fall in one week! On second thought perhaps this isn’t so uncanny. I mean, people have to do something in December to while away the long winter nights. But I digress. The much welcome temperate weather has also ignited my wanderlust. To this end I and a few friends spent the last night in the East Village. Arguably the high point of our evening was when yours truly nearly got slammed into by a rather statuesque woman who seemed to be under the general impression the sidewalk on Second Avenue belonged to her. At the last minute I obliged and in so doing narrowly avoiding having my face firmly ensconced in this woman’s chest. I quickly recovered and quipped:

You wife’s face is in my wife’s tits! No, your wife’s tits are on my wife’s face!

This put us all in fits of sophomoric laughter. It was a fun and eventful evening all the way to the very end. Which brings me to the journey home— and the subject of this post.

After pointing out what I have christened  “The Booger Bench” to my compatriots this gent got up, walked past our party (and in so doing let loose a not-so-silent but deadly) and stationed himself against the wall. Being stalwart G train veterans all we knew nothing good could possibly come of this— and we were right: he promptly started vomiting. Or should I say, stealth vomiting? To his credit this chap was trying to be as discreet as possible. However, electing to utilize the end of the platform where the entrance from the L is located is— how should we say— a fundamentally flawed strategy. And so we watched on as people entered, quickly assessed the situation and put as much distance as possible between his/her person and this gent as possible.

Eventually a young couple with a stroller came on the scene. His gastronomic problem(s) having (as we shortly learned TEMPORARILY) abated, he turned around and stood in front of his creation. We found this attempt at concealment amusing— especially since it worked: the couple, completely unaware of what had transpired, stopped right in front of him. Then the next salvo hit. After recoiling in horror the mother promptly grabbed her stroller and moved. Her husband, not so easily deterred, lingered to take some pictures on his i-phone. All the while a man was strumming a banjo and crooning “You Got a Friend in Me” from Disney’s Toy Story on the opposite platform. Simply put, it was nothing short of magical.

For those of you who are wondering this chap managed to get it together enough to board the G train when it arrived. As we exited at Greenpoint Avenue he elected to stay on board. I suppose he’s Queens’s problem now.

UPDATE, August 28, 2010: As of 6:30 p.m. it’s still there.

What’s more, I observed he doused the wall for good measure.


Miss Heather


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