Having said that, there are some aspects of big city life I could definitely do without, to wit:
- People who talk too loud on the train. This morning's example comes from a girl I presume to be in college. She is talking, nay, screaming with someone about some concert tonight. "I DON'T KNOW THAT BAND. NO! I KNOW, I KNOW THE SONG, I JUST DON'T KNOW THE BAND. I DON'T KNOW IF I WANT TO GO SEE A BAND I DON'T KNOW. YEAH I KNOW....DER DER DER DER (serenades entire train with a half-humming, half-singing, entirely off-key rendering of some completely irrecognizable song) RIGHT, THAT SONG, I KNOW, I'M SAYING I DON'T KNOW THE BAND. WHAT? YEAH I'M ON THE TRAIN. I'M AT FULLERTON. (She's actually fully 5 stops north of Fullerton) I'M ON MY WAY TO SCHOOL. WELL, I DON'T KNOW MAYBE I'LL GO. WELL, I CAN'T TALK THAT LONG BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE THAT MANY MINUTES. YEAH, IT'S PREPAY. I DON'T KNOW I MIGHT. OK. OK. BYE-IE!" Thank God that's over. But no..."HI! OH NOOOO, ARE YOU SLEEEEEPING? I'M SO SORRY, I'M JUST CALLING TO SAY HI. BUT GO BACK TO SLEEP AND I'LL SAY HI LATER. HEHEHEHEHE (High pitched shriek that I think is meant as laughter) AWWW, THAT'S SOOOO CUUUUTE! NO. YEAH. I WAS JUST CALLING TO SAY HI, AND TO FIND OUT WHAT YOUR CLASS SCHEDULE IS? (states this in a voice that sounds like a question, even though it's not) WELL OK, GO BACK TO SLEEP THEN. ALRIGHTY. BYE-BYE!" Shut. The. Fuck. Up. You are on a train, a public train, where people who have just gotten up for work and are not happy about it are trying to commute in peace. If you "don't have that many minutes" why are you making a second call? I'm going to throw your phone into the fucking lake. Also, please don't EVER sing again.
- People trying to hand me stuff. What's the deal with this? I go out for a sandwich at lunch, and 57 people have to try to hand me some kind of pamphlet or flier or menu. I try to get on the el, and some dude is shoving a Red Eye in my face. Hi, do you see the book in my hand? That's what I'm reading today. It is not for hitting people over the head when they try to hand me something. Perhaps it should be. If I wanted to read the Red Eye this morning, I would have grabbed it out of the bin that is literally two feet from where you are standing. I have a book, a backpack, my purse and my el pass all in my hands. I don't have room for your newspaper or your socialist propaganda, or your crummy band's little advertisement or your Chokin' on a Chicken Wing lunch specials. And speaking of menus
- Coming home from work to find 89,000 menus in my mailbox, shoved between the slats on my stairs, rubber-banded to my railing, and taped to my front door. Is everyone else getting this? Or have they somehow figured out that I'm new? I really hope it's the latter, because the bulk of my trash is starting to be made up of menus for Chinese restaurants and pizza parlors. Do I maybe look too skinny? Maybe they're trying to put some meat on my bones. They can't all be new, there's just too many of them. Are they factoring the cost of all this door-to-door advertising into the price of my meal? I bet it's cheaper to eat somewhere where they're not chopping down an entire rain forest just to tell me that General Tso's chicken is $6.95 and comes with a spring roll. STOP IT. That is what the phone book is for. Geesh.