I am not angry. I am not frustrated. I am calm. ZEN. I left the house at 8:30 (I was already late) and I JUST GOT TO WORK.
What I am is sweaty and wet. Really sweaty. My dress is clinging to my body and my face is sticky. Perfect work appearance.

So here is my commute:

I walked to 59th and Lexington to catch my morning 4/5. Much to my surprise, it was closed! The station manager told me to take the M101 to City Hall. Umm, that would take 3 hours, but okay.

The M101 was overflowing with people. I could have stayed on, but I couldn’t breathe. So I got off at 50th street.

Then i walked to 7th AVENUE because i thought the west side trains would be running normally. I was terribly, terribly WRONG.

I waited for 20 mins for the 1, all the while knowing that I would have to get off at 42nd street to transfer to the 2.
When I got off at 42nd street, I got on the 2. I sat down and everything. I sat for 5, 10, 15 minutes. I failed to miss the announcement that said that the last stop on the 2 would be 34th street. That doesn’t do me any good, since I need to go to Park Place.

I walked upstairs to transfer to the NQRW. There were so many people on the platform that the people on the stairs were not walking, but waiting for the platform to clear.

As the N approached, I was already melting. The doors opened and a mad house started. Forget Maslow’s heirarchy of needs… the need to get on that train was far more important than eating, peeing, or fucking.

everyone was pushing. everyone yelled. everyone cried.

I rode the N all the way to Canal Street.

I will never complain about my normal commute again.