Not If You Were the Last Junkie on Earth

i guess this gray's papaya dog wasn't quite gray enough for her....never fear, a little subway grime should help with that!

thank you to Natalie for sending this in.

Spit shine

Oh, I just love crazies on the subway and the people that ignore them as though nothing is happening.  This guy forgot to visit the cobbler that morning so thought he would do a little spit shine himself.

Um...

My friend James took this, so I'm not entirely sure what's going on here.  I really hope there is a kid under there, otherwise this guy is just a grown man who really likes cartoons of little girls riding the subway.

A week in subway riding

This week, the following bizarre occurrences happened to me on the subway:

1) My L train car smelled like a skunk. Having grown up on the edge of a forest in Northern California, this is a smell that I am all too familiar with. I've smelled some terrible things on the subway (using having to do with crazies who do not bath or late-night vomit) but where on earth could this skunk odor come from?

2) I sat next to a guy who burped the entire way from Union Square to my stop at Graham Ave on the L. He kept trying to cover it up with a napkin but in a way that just made it more gross. It was that special kind of burp like when your mom has had too much diet coke.

3) Heather and I ran into the infamous "Free Bouncy Rides" dolphin/perv late on a Friday night at the 1st Avenue L train platform.



Neither blog editor opted for a ride.

Full-on Eardrum Assault

Ah, busking in the subway... a time honored tradition that in New York takes place both in stations and on the trains themselves. Unfortunately, the subway is like one big open mic night. If you're lucky, you get someone great, like those dudes who sing gospel in four part harmony or some off-duty Symphony violinist. Slightly less fortunate, you might get a mariachi band serenade your car. Still tolerable, occasionally entertaining. Further down the gamut, a guitarist who only plays cheesy Beatles covers (my least favorite of which inhabits the tunnel between the 6th Avenue F/V and the 7th Avenue 1/2/3, he's too damn happy and changes most of the minor chords in the songs to major chords cause he's JUST SO FUCKING HAPPY), or some dude who likes to drum on buckets. But if you are as unfortunate as me, this is the full on eardrum assault you are subjected to after work on a near-daily basis:

Drunk Polish Accordion player is busking on the Union Square L train platform nearly every day in the evening rush hour. I don't really have anything against the accordion per se... it has its time and place and makes you feel like you're in a French film... but this dude can't even actually play. He is all over the place with wrong notes, changing tunes midway through, stopping and starting and speeding up and slowing down. And yet, somehow he's decided this is his calling and somehow he snags that prime Union Square L platform spot nearly EVERY FUCKING NIGHT. More often than not I have a headache at this time of day and am likely irate from 8 hours of my life sucked away sitting in front of a computer. And then... accordion man, out to further irritate me.

So on the particular night that I took this video, I endured more than ten minutes of this guy waiting for the delayed L. Finally, relief for my eardrums... Oh wait, NOPE. It's schizophrenic free-jazz saxophone dude in my car... WHY ME GOD????

Dude continues to play all the way to Bedford... the horror. The injustice. Just as I was about to yell out "I'll pay you to stop!" he offers, "if you pay me I'll stop!" Well played, schizophrenic free-jazz saxophone dude. Well played.

Ugh, I keep running into my ex boyfriend on the L train, its so awkward

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Burrrrning Rubber

Obviously, there are a lot of things wrong with the subway. tons. we have more stuff on file to bitch about than we have time to actually get up on this blog. However, as much as we complain about the subway, having a car in the city just ain't worth it, as evidenced by this picture we found today on Gothamist:

It's called Zip Car; get with the program people.


(Thanks to Jess for sending this one in.)