This morning I watched a woman lift her skirt and urinate on the subway platform. I backed away, trying to be discreet about the distance, but thinking back, that probably wasn’t necessary. I only say that because I’m pretty sure if you’re peeing on the subway, then chances are manners aren’t a top priority.
However, fast forward to this afternoon. After I had downed a whole bottle of water and a smoothie from the Juice Press.
And then had to ride on the subway for seven stops.
Seven excruciating stops.
Let’s just say that, though, I wasn’t about to lift my skirt in public (well, I wasn’t wearing a skirt, either), I understood that feeling of JUST NEEDING TO GO. Acutely.
Maybe the people who we perceive as unbalanced have actually just stopped caring. Maybe they’re happily not having to pee while the rest of us are praying and pinching ourselves in an effort to distract from the miserable truth.
Or maybe I just need to be careful about not guzzling down all of New York’s beverage selection before boarding the subway.
Anyway, sorry about all that.
I woke up early this morning to a city wrapped up in fog. So much so, that I think the person behind me on the train forgot we were in America and not, in fact, London, when he said, “I can’t see a bloody thing outside.”
And no, he didn’t say it with a British accent.
But the fog.
It was enough to think you might just see Big Ben, were it to part even a little.
So I really couldn’t blame him for the British colloquialism.
Besides, it was true; you really couldn’t see a bloody thing outside.
But it didn’t keep me from trying, all the same.