They can't all be funny...

I REALLY thought I was in the clear tonight. I took a later than normal train home after enjoying a great dinner with a dear friend.... The MTA god has no mercy. I made it all the way past 125th st without a seat buddy.

Slid my butt down in the seat, put my knees up, iPod was in.... There were plenty of open seats around me. So I shut my eyes.... I really think “Lurch” was just watching and waiting. Two seconds after shutting my eyes I felt an awkward tap on the shoulder.... Ooo what could it be? Joy... A seatmate!

Now I swear I never do this but I nearly said "no". He stood well over six feet tall, ripped jeans, ratty old undershirt on, flannel shirt balled up under his arm and an old backpack at his side. Long black hair, menacing face... Drug head eyes... Freaked the crap out of me. He grunted and pointed.... (Politely)...so I let him in. I was about two seconds from offering him my leftovers, as he looked hungry, when wouldn’t you know it, he pulls out a brand new iphone. Needless to say, I didn't attempt to fall back to sleep, but my mind was set at ease knowing he wasn't going to try to chop my head off or attempt steal my iPod as his was... much nicer.

BUT WAIT!! There’s always some twisted humor in the nightly MTA freak showings… "Lurch" was… how could I put this lightly… a master at the SBD… an expert stink bomb dropper… a repeat gas passer… Clearly he went to school and obtained his MBA in the art of farting. I spent the rest of my ride home with my face buried deep in my scarf, yet could still smell his little gifts through my perfume-covered shield. When my eyes started to water… I had to get up and move. I think the MTA should partner with Oust and just place two in each car…Tonight, we could have used five.