Wednesday woes: the MTA saga continues

I've realized that this blog has become some sort of chronicling of how the MTA fucks me on a regular basis. I mean, I know they're not doing dumb things just to upset me, but sometimes I feel like the whole damn MTA is out to get me. Yesterday was no exception to this conspiracy theory.

After being painfully bored at work all day, I managed to make it to 5pm and broke out of this office like a bat out of hell. Went with the Mexican to H&M to return some stuff, and I ended up buying 4 pairs of tights that I didn't need, in anticipation of short dresses for the summer and the need to cover-up my laziness and genetically induced cellulite ridden thunder thighs. (Phew, run-on sentence much?) I unnecessarily spent $50 and had to wait on line for far too long for it to be worth it. Oh well, I now am the not-so-proud owner of royal blue micro-fishnet stockings.

Because of the shit weather we took the bus up to the Stumble Inn, where we go every Wednesday. I was supposed to go to dinner with this guy, Dwight. Another goddamn Jamaican. I've known him for a few months. Met him in person once because he lives about 15 minutes from my best friend and I was in the mood for a drive. We hung out in my car. He wants in my pants. I haven't seen him in months. Anyway, he invited me out to Red Lobster (which I don't understand why people go to when we live in NYC and there are a million amazing non-chain restaurants, but whatever who doesn't enjoy a nice cheddar biscuit sometimes...). Since it was his plan, I went with it. 8pm at Red Lobster in Times Square. This gave me 45 mins to an hour to drink at the Stumble Inn with my coworkers and friends and get down to meet him.

Needless to say, this did not happen. And no it's not because I got so sloshed and was having such a BRILLIANT time at the Stumble Inn that I couldn't possibly leave to go to meet Dwight for dinner. No, it was because Dwight decided to each lunch at 4pm and was not going to be hungry for dinner - so could we go to the movies. Sure, whatever, I had suppressed my eating in anticipation of cheddary carby goodness, but you obviously do not have that type of self control...

Now since Dwight suggested the movie, he even chose WHICH movie (which I had no complaints about), one would assume that he had looked at movie times or come up with an alternate plan, correct? WRONG. Not only did he have no idea what time the movie was playing, he didn't know where, or how to get to any of the locations that I Flixtered on my phone. I'm sorry, I am NOT the MTA (because I'm not truly evil on a regular basis) and I am not mapquest or googlemaps, why are you asking me how to get from where YOU life (not anywhere near me, mind you) to a location that I have not been to before (but will use my resources to find).

So now I'm frustrated. When I'm frustrated and haven't eaten because I had plans to go to goddamn dinner with someone and didn't want to ruin my appetite, I get a little...attitude-y. I'm sitting at the bar in the Stumble Inn, on the phone with Dwight and his heavy-ish Jamaican accent, getting irritated because the next showtime we can possibly make is at 9:45pm and I wanted to be home before midnight, which will not happen with a movie that late. At first I begrudgingly agree to still meet with him at 8pm and I will eat and he will watch and then we will go to the movies, but then he says a key phrase that will get under my skin EVERY TIME.

"Calm down, there's no need for the attitude."

Any combination of these words will send me flying off handle and will result in deep anger and the reddening of my face so much so that I might look like I was going to pop and steam was going to burst forth from my ears.

My response was "I have every right to be frustrated...etc" We still try to plan to go to 84th street now at 8pm, but I'm really not interested at this point and then...

I hung up the phone and he sent me the following text "Attitude!!!!"

To which my response was " Forget it Dwight. I don't really want to see you tonight. Maybe we'll get together another time."

His response? "Whatever. Ur attitude is a big turn off already. Ur not easy to talk to at all."

HI-FUCKING-LARIOUS...there was a bit more back and forth about how I was frustrated because it was his plan that he fucked up and him telling me I was bitching and giving me excuses as to why he ate so late...blah blah blah. He tells me he still wants to see me though and proceeds to send....

"Still mad at me? *kissyface*"

I haven't responded yet, and honestly I deleted him out of my phone when he said I wasn't easy to talk to.

I stayed at the Stumble Inn for a while, not getting to play beer pong again, for the third week in a row. I saw a beautiful man at the end of the bar there but I had stopped drinking too early and my inhibitions were at an all time high. I finally dragged myself out of there at 10pm into the rain and to the train.

LET THE MTA SAGA BEGIN:

I take the 6 to 59th/Lex to get the Q. I wait, let the R train pass because that's not the train I need.

Then the announcer comes over the speaker. "Due to signal malfunction the Q train is not running *long pause* between Ditmars and 57th Street. As an alternative take the N."

Ok, dick, you couldn't have said that before I let the R pass? FINE. I get on the next R, thankfully not too far behind.

I get off at 57th thinking, "Oh, this is where the Q is supposed to be starting now - there's the Q pulling into the station on the opposite platform now."

I walk to the Queens bound side and wait for everyone to get off the train and search for the conductor so I can ask if this train is in fact, going back to Brooklyn.

Wait...wait...wait.

Two Asian guys are stuck on the train because they said the message that it was the last stop so late (surprise, surprise). I walk to the middle of the train to locate the conductor because he/she hasn't gotten to the front of the train yet and I see one MTA employee who has the door keys walking down the platform. "Yay!" I think to myself. "Surely she will be able to answer my question."

THE BITCH COMPLETELY IGNORED ME. When I say ignored, I mean...she didn't even ACKNOWLEDGE my obvious presence when I politely said "Excuse me miss, could you tell me if this train is going to Brooklyn."

I gritted my teeth and walked back towards the front of the train because I saw the actual conductor finally walking through the cars. I caught up with him at the front door.

"Sir, can you tell me if this is going back to Brooklyn?"

"Yes, it's going back to Brooklyn but service won't pick up passengers until 34th Street. You'll have to get a local train on the opposite platform. Sorry." and he closed the door.

So I go back over to the other platform, pissed off because I've let two N's and an R pass at this point on the downtown platform. And guess what, now no trains are coming. Not only does it take another 15 minutes for an N to come...but the Q train DEPARTS. That's correct, not only does it depart, but it opens its doors for passengers first. I can't make it to the other platform in time, so I'm fuming, knowing I'm going to miss that Q at 34th.

I finally get to 34th and the next Q finally come and lo and behold, the train allowed passengers to get on at 57th and 42nd.

A trip that should've taken me less than an hour, took almost 2. Thank you once again MTA.

I was kindly greeted by torrential downpour upon exiting the train.

Steel Pans came over just after midnight though and that was fun as usual. I actually really enjoy his company and other things he has to offer. It's just getting better and better.