Something to Hold Onto
I ran up the stairs in the Newark Railroad station, taking two at a time to get to the PATH train platform before the next train to mid town pulled out, which would have caused me to wait about fifteen minutes for my next chance to get to 9th St. where I would continue running to campus so as not to arrive too late for class.
I rammed my hard plastic Samsonite briefcase into the subway’s shutting doors and heard someone yell at me, “What are you? A fucking retard?” I didn’t waste my time with a response and started looking for something to hold onto.
The train lurched forward and I hadn’t taken my subway surfing stance yet. I bumped into an attractive young woman who immediately called me, “Fucking pervert!”
The train took a hard turn and I crashed through someone’s Wall Street Journal. “Fucking asshole punk!” He said to me and I tried to right myself again. I didn’t get my legs entirely until flying around, crashing and thrashing into other commuters.
When the train stopped at
Of course, planning my revenge distracted me from finding a strap to hang on and I didn’t get into my surfing stance before the train leapt forward and, this time, I didn’t land on a relatively soft human but, rather, hit the floor pretty hard causing a lot of amusement for my fellow commuters.
When we pulled into
This is another entry for the daily exercises on the BSO writing club. I banged it out pretty fast yesterday but hope you find it amusing. To be upfront about everything, I stole the “Good luck on beating the rape charge…” line from David Sedaris, one of my very favorite writers who attributed it to his sister Amy.