I slept in this morning and made it to the subway station just in time for the morning crunch, and just in time to see some crazy lady with red hair and gray roots do her sombrero dance on the platform. She was dancing, she was singing, she was a hootin’ and a hollerin’, full of good cheer, until the train actually came and she made her way in. At that point, she changed her mind about everything, pointed her bony finger at us all and screamed, “Fuck you, Communists!”
Uh huh. After living in the city, not much can phase me. But it did remind me that as big a fan as I am of public theatre, it’s really time to get a car.
I’ve avoided that expense in life so far, mostly because I wanted to travel more. When I finally did put together a lump sum and not blow it on plane tickets, it only seemed logical to buy real estate instead. I did get a parking space when I bought my loft but needless to say, it’s got room to spare.
Raj always teases me, says that only twelve year olds take the subway and bus as much as I do. Sure, Raj. I would let my twelve year old within arm’s reach of a bad hair freak claiming we’re all fucking communists.
And it might have a little something to do with the fact that I haven’t been behind the steering wheel of a car for a little over three years.
Abomination.
Well, maybe I am a communist. Of all the communists I know, not many own cars.
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