It’s easy to let yourself get stuck into a daze when you’re on a set schedule. Sometimes my days will blend together and it is often hard to keep track of whether something happened two hours earlier or three days before. That being said, you have to appreciate the little quirky things in life that spice up the day and keep you in touch with this crazy calamity of a world.
Last Monday was just like any other. I woke up, took a shower, yadda yadda, walked to work, settled into my desk, got some coffee, blah blah blah, did some busy work, left work, took the walk to Port Authority, and waited on line to buy a week’s worth of bus tickets.
How does one describe Port Authority? It’s not nearly as fast paced and crazy like Penn Station. I would say it is either commuters who frantically try to make it home early, leisurely day trippers who walk slowly because they don’t know where they are going or where their Broadway show is, or super tourists who desperately freak out trying to find Times Square.
Me. I’m a commuter. But I don’t live far away or ever have any crazy reasons to be home as quickly as possible, so while I walk briskly, rarely will you see the panic of “I NEED TO GET HOME NOW” in my eyes.
If you plan on taking the bus to Hoboken, try to get there as early as possible. Arriving there anytime past 5:30, be prepared on waiting on the longest line EVER. You can usually predict how long the wait will by where you are positioned on the line. Once looped around the corner by the men’s bathroom, you know might as well get comfortable.
Anyway, I was waiting on the ticket line, bopping along to my ipod, when all of a sudden, I see this weird old hairy, possible homeless man heckling the people in front of the line. I immediately lowered my ipod and saw this drunk old crazy man gibbering about how slow everyone was taking buying tickets and how he should be allowed to sneak in front because he would take, while motioning his hand around and around, “ah-one, ah-two, ah-three”.
A note about the commuters. Yes they are in suits. And yes, they may be courteous and outbursts are typically not within their character. But. They DO not allow cutters when they have been waiting online for 20 minutes. This nice probably accountant Asian man said, “Well sorry sir, but the line is back there”. The faux-hobo replied with, “But uhh donnta wanna waita all the wayyhhh on that there line. ceemmone. Let me slip on in”.
At this point the Asian accountant said , “come on man. we are all waiting here. you just can’t come in here and get to the front”. While he was saying this, the faux-hobo was pushing buttons for his ticket and trying to put his crumbled dollars into the machine.
The Asian accountant was not having this, so he pushed the faux-hobo gently out of the way, and faux-hobo freaked out screaming, “What man! What. don’t you touch me! I’ll kick yo ass! GO ahead! Touch me again”.
Picture this scene. A nice little respectable well dressed Asian versus a weird old possible homeless man probably around 65-70. This is when I began to laugh.
Up until then, no one was doing anything on the line but look at each other and laugh. Another suit behind me walked up and was like, “aright buddy. it’s time for you to leave this guy alone. Do you want us to call the cops?”
Faux-hobo replied with a gibber-gabber –drunky “what bitch! you want some of this too! I’ll take both of you. Well FUCK YOU. I’m goiiing leave”, all the while shaking his finger and walking like he’s was this big tough guy, instead of a grandpa.
As he swayed away, the suit behind me yelled, “That’s right bitch! Keep on walking”.
Ha. No. Oh there’s more.
So I bought my tickets and race to the Hoboken line, which because I had the weirdo homeless man fight, had to go alllll the way to the back, wayyyy past the men’s bathroom.
While waiting, I continued to bop along, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little man (not like a midget. I mean like a very short man, about 5’1 or so) in a puff jacket leaning back and forth, obviously drunk, arguing with this older man who I guess worked at the Port Authority, mopping in front of the bathroom.
Are you kidding? Another fight? Again, I turned down my ipod and went in for a listen.
Little Puff: Come on man! Let me use the bathroom! Come on!
Mop Man: Charlie, I told you last time, you can’t go in there when your drunk! What? You want me to call the cops again on you! Go downstairs or find somewhere else to pee.
Little Puff: But..but….
So Little Puff did a little lap and then tried to sneak in behind a much taller gentleman. Again, Mop Man saw him and said, “Charlie. WHAT DID I TELL YOU. Your drunk. You can’t pee here. That’s it. I’m calling security. I’ve had enough of you!”
Just like that, my day was amazingly re-invented. So sure, they can freak us out and make us feel uncomfortable, but come on! I seriously live for this stuff. What else would my day consist of? Ho hum. I ran out of ink today. No thanks. I prefer the crazy inappropriate drunks and tough grandpas.