The Train Trials: A Damsel...Distressed.

During this ride, I noticed a fellow fare, a female, and immediately I said to myself: "That girl looks like Shelley Duvall." Shelley Duvall is as unattractive as they come, especially in The Shining. Only kidding. Her most unappealing moments come during the scenes where she is hysterical. Other than that, she is simply divine.

Anyway, this female fare was sitting directly across from me on the G-Train. [As is always the case, the G-Train likes to spilt the service up between two trains on the weekends, and now even during the week (late night/early morning), in order to save the city a few bucks (conspiracy!). I'm used to it so it doesn't bother me as much as it should. Plus, that isn't even much of an interruption. The G-Train's lack of consistency is its malfunction.] She looked confused from the beginning---Metropolitan. The more stops we made, the more her expression transformed. By the time we hit Myrtle-Willoughby, that poor child was almost in tears. This was when I made the Duvall connection.

She was a bit hysterical and maybe scared for her life. I thought maybe she had lost a loved one recently or just really wasn't enjoying how things were going for her. I've been there. I think I might be there as I write. But this isn't bout me. It is about our distressed Duvall look-alike.

What spelled "s.o.s" to me?  Her gazes across the faces of her fellow passengers. She was a stranger in an unknown burrough, I felt, and she just needed a little direction, a little help.

We hit the Bed-Nostrand stop, which is the last stop when service is interrupted. To continue service further South, one must exit the train and walk across the platform. How was she to know this? The conductors apparently have the option to decide whether or not they want to inform the passengers of what's going on.

I didn't have to walk across the platform. I could've just trekked the few blocks. But for her, I chose to walk across the plat. I entered the train and sat down while she stood directly across from me, looking very nervous, still searching desperately for guidance, but too afraid to engage. I took my headphones off and made eye-contact to let her know that I was very interested in knowing what her f**king deal was...

"I just need to get to Fulton." she said.

"Stay here."

She took a seat and came down a bit. I wanted to tell her to breathe, because that is what I do, but I'd already done enough. I gave her everything she needed. As I made my exit I looked at her and informed her that she had only a few stops to go, and that she would then wake up, and her nightmare would be over. She thanked me and then she was gone.

It is a big city. But it isn't that big. And not too intimidating if I may say so. All you have to do is breathe.

The Good The Bad The Money

The good news is that I got home from work about 45 minutes ahead of schedule. I predicted a 5am arrival time but was fortunate enough to, on this night (early, early morning), be wrong with my guesstimate.

The bad news is that I have to be up in less than forty winks to go back to that place where I am currently annoyed. ( He meant to say employed). No harm, no foul. Besides, I wanted it this way. The lesser of two evils---no doubt.

The money. You sure would like to know about this "money" wouldn't you? Well if you were unawares, I currently reside in the lovely, colorful, loud, obscene, and sometimes way too loud area of New York commonly referred to as BED STUY!

...So I casually exit the train station. And don't even ask me how long I had to wait for that G-Train. (SPOILER: TOO DA** LONG!) So anyway, I crawl up the stairs and exit the subway to begin the short trek home. I always make it a habit to look down when I'm walking. (Because people are dumb. And dumb people like to drop things. Like money.) About two blocks into my trek, I stumble upon what I immediately recognize as tender. It was a small wad of bills, and I was staring directly into the face of a ten-spot. I wanted there to be 100s under that ten-spot but I don't know too many people (other than yours truly) that insist on putting their smallest bills on the outside of the stack. So keep dreaming. But that's just it. It was like a dream. (Actually, I still think I might be dreaming) 

We've all had "the dream". You come across an a**load of cash or something just as valuable, to wake up to absolutely nothing. Demoralizing. Debilitating. And not a very pleasant way to start your day. Forgive the digression, but this was not a dream. I stayed the course and vowed not to count the possible "drug money gone missing" until I got home.

How much could be in this stack? I looked at it once more before I arrived home and quickly deduced that a)  there were at least five bills in my possession and b) none of said bills looked to be the equivalent of the sum of four quarters. My pace increased. Not only because of the obvious but also because I felt strongly that whoever lost this cash was probably retracing their footsteps as I trekked. 

As soon as I got home I counted. No time to even blink. 10, 20, 30 (if you could've seen my face at this moment, you would've tawt that I was a mere child being introduced to real money), 40, 50 (absolutely no way there's more than fif...), 60 Dollars!

Can you believe that? On a Saturday night (early, early, early, Sunday morning)? I can't believe it was there for me. Thanks to the dummy that lost his/her money. And to all the other dummies that failed to look down.

I'm expecting in the next few hours for my doorbell to ring. After spending a few seconds trying to figure out how they even got into my building, and then not answering the door, the money's true owner will then decide to stand outside the building, and just yell:

"Hey, you find some money on the ground not too long ago n*gga?"