Since I moved to the East Village I’ve been forced to take the L train crosstown every morning. It’s only four stops, and less than 10 minutes, but the cost those 600 seconds reap from my soul is immeasurable.
First of all the train is like a who’s who of hipster cliches. Plaid shirts, skinny jeans so tight they require lubricant to get on, terrible peircings, bad hipster hair, gawdy use of the color purple, unattractive tattoos – it’s hipster-overload all designed to enrage the sensibilities and inflame the senses.
Considering the train gets packed so tight that they need a hydraulic press to fit everyone in I’m typically jammed against some chick with pink hair that was obviously not loved properly (or possibly too much) by her father and has rebelled against him and the Ivy League education he paid for by sucking off guitar players from terrible indie bands and living in an apartment he pays for in Williamsburg. I hate that girl. In fact on any given train I hate 75% of the people that get on before Union Square.
But honestly, my hatred for the Hipster will need to wait for another day, because as intolerable a group of human beings they are there’s actually worse things going down on the L that needs to be discussed: the people who are incapable of properly filling space to maximize the amount of people who can get on the train.
I fucking hate these assholes.
It’s simple geometry man! Turn a little to the left, take a step to the right, move forward a little, do anything and you can fit like 7 more people in the car, but these ass clowns either don’t notice or don’t care. They just stand there with a dumb look on their dumb face and act dumb. It’s infuriating. And you’re never close enough to tell them they’re a jerk off because you’re smashed against the door trying to use your finger tip to hold yourself steady enough that you’re not going to fall over when the fuck head driving the train decides to punch it as hard as possible sending the train lurching forward uncontrollably.
When it’s a tourist I almost understand. They’re too busy trying to move their ridiculously oversized camera out of the way so they can stare at a giant unfolded map like they’re Vasco da fucking Gama. They don’t have the time to be courteous. But New Yorkers, guys, lets work a little harder at this so no one has to feel my wrath. Thanks.