Well as everyone knows I'm assisting Eduardo with his blog management while he's at McDowell (Congrats, by the way).
A few notes about me. Diana Marie Delgado. 5 feet with a 1. Chicana poet who lives & loves NYC.
But one thing I don't love is Subway Drama.
Yesterday, my loyal 1 train was late by 30 minutes. It was gross outside. The rain was frilling around, messing up everything, including my hair. So it takes what feels like 5 hours (NY time) for the train to come. By then, people are milling around the platform like roaches: lots of them & skittish.
So I get on the train, lugging my backpack and sit down, when this random woman taps me on the shoulder (hard) to tell me:
"Excuse me but your backpack (a very cute black Gravis bag) bumped me really hard"
Dude. What part of the subway is crowded don't New Yorkers or Visitors understand? I mean sometimes it's so crowded, the train will lurch and you'll have someone's boob in your mouth (I'm short) or if you're lucky the thigh of some hot guy leaning into you. If I had a cherry popsicle for every time someone crunched my toe or hung their armpit in my face I wouldn't have to wear red lipstick. Not ever.
So I guess this first post of mine is a complaint. If you live in NYC the subway is crowded. Deal with it.