The two highly coveted "lean-against-the-doors" spots |
On page 4 of my Metro, I read an article on Latina teens and suicide rates. Then I read a shorter piece on a "several hundred" person pillow fight that took place on Saturday in Union Square. Did you know that the Union Square Pillow Fight Saturday is part of an international event -- International Pillow Fight Day? Well, neither did I, but this past Saturday marked it's sixth anniversary. Cool beans. Next page.
I took a cursory glance at page 5 of my Metro, fully intending to move on to page 6 (because I could care less about "Eco-conscious kids' clothing", or whatever anyone has to say about it.), when something big, rectangular, red, and bordered in yellow caught my attention:
I quickly flipped my paper back around to page 4 again and looked, with a touch of manic amusement, at the pillow fight piece, my disbelief growing with every passing second I processed the information. Seriously?! Had everyone forgotten that NYC was Camelot for these indomitable, armor clad blood suckers a.k.a BED BUGS?! I guess they had, since even I, with my past experience with these creatures, had failed to notice how this pillow fight was a HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE idea (unless the goal was to help spread Bugger* love...) until this brilliantly placed ad. Good job Metro.
For the remaining two stops to my final destination, I felt my skin crawl and itch. I suffered in silence because I am morally against scratching in public... unless you're sure you're on a deserted street, and sure no one (a hot girl/guy?) will walk around the corner the exact moment you decide to scratch certain part (don't act like you don't get an inopportune itch every now and again!). I wondered how many of my fellow commuters had been given a good dusting of bed bug eggs this past Saturday. Was that annoying fellow rubbing himself all over me, a walking Bugger hive? Ugh!
"G'morning pretty! Here's a love bite for ya!" |
The train arrived at 34th St., and I spilled out. I walked briskly to work, into the restroom and washed my hands. Absurd, since washing my hands has no effect on buggers, I know. But seeing as how I couldn't fumigate myself (because I don't have easy access to Bugger fumigants, and because I'd probably die in the fumigation process), I figured I'd do the next best thing and cleanse myself of NYC/NJ subway grime.
Happy Monday....
*Since our experience with them, my ex-roommates and I have called these delightful little darlings, Buggers.
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This is awesome and so very, very New York (slash Jersey City). It also reminds me of how some d-bag recently left an unbagged mattress leaning against the fence to my building. I don't think it was anybody who lives in my building, nevertheless, the garbage cops left a ticket for $100 for my landlord! And the mattress is still there. Needless to say, I give it a wide berth. Icky.
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