Good day, Sunshine!

Some days you just want to sock a person right in the kisser (One of these days, Alice...)

But let me back up.

Every morning that I am late to work (most mornings) I encounter a stampede of smartly dressed New Yorkers entering the subway station turnstiles that I need to exit. These people, with their perfectly styled or still wet hair, carry their coffees, their purses, their newspapers and their brief cases, and none of them, not a single one, smiles. (Truthfully, I don't smile either. What New Yorker smiles on the way to work in the morning??)

Over the years confronting the daily stampede has taught me a couple of tricks about how to get out of the subway station when you're one of the salmon swimming upstream (that is two, count em, TWO animal references in one sentence folks). One trick when you're trudging up the stairs is to square your shoulders, stay by the rail on the right, and most importantly, LOOK UP. When you look ahead and stare at the people coming down the stairs 98% of the time they try to step aside and make room. I don't know why this works but it does.

The other trick is that if you see an open turnstile, RUN to it. I have stood staring for what felt like an eternity (but was probably more like 3-4 seconds) walking up and down the turnstiles, waiting for someone to let me out. But they don't. No person in seven and a half years has ever been just about to swipe their card when they saw me standing there, waiting with my sad face trying to get out, and stepped aside to let me out. Not one person.

Every now and then I exit a turnstile that I think is open when it really isn't. It is only half open. Meaning someone is preparing to swipe their card and enter but they're a little slow and I exit before they swipe. To put it not so nicely: I'm cutting in line. But I'm cutting in a line that no one would let me get into (out of?) otherwise. So it's justified. Isn't it?

Because I consider myself a nice person most of the time, I don't enjoy exiting this way. I do feel like I'm cutting. And if I were the person trying to get in, I'd be mad at the other me that was cutting to get out. Some days I even whimper a, 'sorry' when I cut. But then I get angry and think that I shouldn't have to apologize...someone should be nice and let me out!

Today was a typically crowded day. I walked past one... two... three turnstiles with a constant flow of people entering, each with a long line behind. No chance of getting out. Then I saw a turnstile that had an opening and I thought, "I can get out of that one...she's still pulling out her MetroCard!" and I quickly walked through. And all of a sudden I thought I heard something and then I tripped. I caught myself so that I didn't fall down all the way. Which would have been embarrassing because there were a LOT of people around me. A little confused, I turned to look around, and I saw that the woman who I passed still had her foot cocked out, deliberately, to trip me. She swiped her card, entered through the turnstile, turned back to stare at me, and gave me a snotty sneer. I ran at her but started laughing, because I was shocked, and then yelled, "Bitch!" (I realize this was neither nice nor Christianly of me). It was an odd sensation. I was confused, laughing, and wanting to grab her and hurt her and yet knowing this was wrong and that I couldn't...all at the same time.

Reeling from what had just happened, I started walking towards the crowded exit. I glanced to the side and through the gate I saw the awful dragon lady snarky bitch that tripped me. She was walking down another set of stairs to the express train. I noticed she was probably around my age and that she was attractive and that she didn't look like an awful dragon lady snarky bitch. Then I noticed that she was staring back and me and saying something.

Still shocked and angry and laughing, I raised my arms up in the air and shrugged my shoulders and gave my best, "What the...?" expression because I was speechless and that was the best I could come up with in the moment. I leaned in closer and realized that she was saying, repeatedly, "You're ugly! You're ugly!" Then she said, "Nice nose! Your nose is ugly!" And then she disappeared down the stairs.

She WAS an awful dragon lady snarky bitch.

As I turned, squared my shoulders, and started walking up the last set of stairs, I noticed that I was still shocked, still laughing, still angry, but now also a little insecure about my nose.

Then I remembered something that made me feel better. Several years ago an actor friend of mine who may or may not be named David Douglass had surgery on his nose to fix a deviated septum. However, in the process of this surgery the appearance of his nose changed slightly (on purpose). When I spoke with him about his surgery I told him I'd often thought about whether the same surgery would be good for me. I meant the surgery to fix a deviated septum, not the other thing he had done. However, I think he misunderstood and said, "No! You have a perfect nose! You should never change it!"

True story. All of it. So take that you sad, mean, snarky lady who needs a good kick in the kiester! David Douglass thinks my nose is perfect. And my wife doesn't think I'm ugly. So there.

And also, peace be with you.