My money was on the delay of the notoriously slow and painful G train, but judging by his two week grizzly growth, keeping a timely appointment didn't seem likely, so I couldn't be sure.
The Slavic mutterings were inaudible between the rank hiccups and shuffling feet, but when he raised his finger and grabbed his crotch, the language was undoubtedly understood.
In true New Yorker fashion, most of the straphangers maintained their stoic faces hoping to seem unfazed by the spectacle bouncing off the tiled wall beside them.
Me? Blatantly amused and appreciative for the commutes comic relief.
As the stubby train gave out its last shrill and stopped.
He gave his final Fuck You...unzipped his pants and pissed on the last car.
Yep, If I were a gambling woman.
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