I’m on the number 6 train that’s turtling down Lex, packed in like a sardine.
Feeling lucky at first, getting a seat, till a woman, the width of a warehouse, decides to plop herself down, pushing me against a man playing Tic-Tac-Toe on his iPhone.
I felt like thinly sliced cheese between two hamburger buns.
“Lady, you’re squashin me.”
“Yeah well, talk to her,” I said, trying not as hard as I could, not to be insulting.
And it wasn’t as if I could get up to stand either, because there was no room, especially when a girl with tits like torpedoes, stood in front of me.
I hear, “Hey, your briefcase is diggin in my leg.”
“And where do ya suggest I put it?”
“I can think of a place.”
How bout I trade you one briefcase for two torpedoes? No, I didn’t say that, knowing, once we hit Grand Central, the car would empty out, which it did.
Whew. I can breathe again, everyone, accept Tic-Tac-Toe man, getting off.
Suddenly, and no…I did not make this up, I see what looks like a mouse, careening down the car with a young boy chasing it.
“What did I tell ya?” a woman says, right behind him. “You should have brought the space center to Show-And-Tell, not Mighty.”
Could I be dreaming? Was it that falafel I knew I shouldn’t have had at midnight?
Mighty, turns out, was a hamster who had gotten out of his cage now charging to freedom. The poor kid was so upset, because his pet seemed headed for Yonkers.
A warm-hearted conductor who could have easily fined mom and son for having a rodent on the train, caught him in flight.
“Ma son, he too have hamstas, so I unda-stand,” he said, addressing the car as if we were jurors.