Thursday, January 31, 2008

Sips: "I bet it tastes like compromise."; Me: "I don't find that very funny." (originally posted March 29, 2006)

The title of this entry really has nothing to do with the entry itself. That small exerpt is from a conversation I was having about Snapple. Apparently, the British are not schooled on the most Jewish drink in the world, so I was giving a lesson plan. Don't worry Sips, you'll get to try it properly upon your arrival.

So onto the rest of it:

I always considered myself an observant person. Actually, that is only half true. I discovered that human resource hiring managers love to hear a potential job candidate say that, so I would always toss that little gem out during my job interviews, with the end result being H.R. smiling enthusiastically and offering me the job at some point down the road. However, I learned two days ago that I am somewhat observant, but only when it comes to noticing extremely gross things about strangers and people I know.

On Monday, I was sitting on the V train on my way home. I had gotten on at 53rd and Madison, so my journey had just begun. At 47th Street, a very attractive gentleman entered my train car, and I was immediately drawn to his excellent choice of suit and tie combo. But within seconds, I noticed something odd. He kept scratching his nose.

Now I'm not talking about the type of scratching you get from a tiny itch or the type of incessant nose knocking you get with a coke addict. I'm talking about the type of scratching you see when someone sticks their entire index finger up their nostril and proceeds to move said finger around. At first I thought I must be hallucinating. No man wearing that suit and that particular tie could possibly be displaying this horrible habit in such a public place. I looked around at other passengers hoping to match a set of eyes that saw what I was seeing, but alas, everyone was oblivious.

This man kept his finger in his nose all the way from West 47th Street to West 4th Street, and I shit you not, not one person took notice except for me. At some point, my mouth must have been hanging open out of the sheer ridiculousness of the whole scene, so for all I know, I was the weirdo on the train, as far as the other passengers were concerned.

I'm still baffled by the events, obviously since this happened on Monday and it is now Wednesday and I'm still thinking about it. This man was well dressed: nice camel colored wool coat, tailored pin stripe suit, silk tie, very proper and VERY British. His hair was slightly messy, but in that way that only British men can perfect. And then he had to ruin the whole image by sticking his fucking finger up his nose. I'd like to write him off as a sociopath, but frankly, I think he either knew that no one but me was noticing and was willing to take the risk, or he simply just really enjoys picking his nose. I've also batted around the idea of it being part of some hidden camera show, so if any of my friends abroad see me on BBC 1, BBC 2, or Channel 4 looking like a typical New York asshole, my apologies.

It was after this train ride that I realized what a dirty city New York can be. The train itself covered in spit and loogies, coffee cups and unidentified liquid, and now there is a good chance that some of you might find boogers hastily stuck on the seats and handle bars of the 2nd Avenue-bound V train.

Happy riding.

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