Sorry for the late start this morning, as you may or may not have heard, last night was officially Hell Night for NYC commuters. I was trapped in the bowels of Queens, hundreds of feet below ground on an E Train subway car for hours.
My dinner consisted of a Power Bar and a few sips of Poland Spring as we sweated and waited and sweated some more. One of my fellow riders had to eat his own left foot to survive and I’m fairly certain that a baby was born somewhere in the same train car.
My travels took me from despondency on 8th Avenue as gypsy cab drivers refused to take hundreds of dollars to my father-in-law’s offices at 1 Penn Plaza where I desperately rushed for a rest room to the secret K-Mart entrance into Penn Station to the overcrowded platform of the eastbound E Train to Queens Plaza to Jamaica Station to Valley Stream.
The burned-out remains of cars were strewn along the highways as animals from the Bronx Zoo stalked an unfamiliar territory and the newly-ascendant warlords of the five boroughs sashayed about in sleeveless leather vests and necklaces made of human teeth.
I crossed paths with Snake Plissken and happened upon John Candy and Steve Martin in a train station waiting room.
Got home at midnight, regularly scheduled posting will commence shortly.
Here’s a quick idea about what kind of chaos we’re talking about: