So I'm taking the LIRR home for Thanksgiving. It's the day before (you know, the one informally known as "the biggest party night of the year"); I've got an overstuffed tote bag and a cat with me; and, luckily, I've got an express from Flatbush Ave. straight to Babylon. Because the car's already crowded and I don't want to be one of those people who takes up more seats than they need to, I'm sitting on one of the fold-down, handicapped-reserved benches with my bag on the floor and the cat carrier on the bench across from me. When we stop at Jamaica, a whole new throng of people crowd on. I rearrange myself so 2 more people can squeeze onto the benches with me and Boo, but there are still people standing in the aisle and the little vestibule area by the doors. The conductor attempts to come through and collect tickets.
And then...
A stereotypical entitled princess-type, oblivious to her rolling suitcase smacking into everyone behind her as she pushes her way through the crush of people, stomps up to the conductor and yells, "ExCUSE me! Does this train go to Montauk?"
"Change at Babylon."
"NO," she snaps, and repeats, like one of those people who thinks that just saying it louder will help the foreigner understand, "does THIS TRAIN go to MONTAUK?"
"You have to change at Babylon," the conductor tells her irritably. Can't say I blame the guy.
"You mean I have to transfer TWICE?!?"
The guy across the aisle from me snorts and mumbles, "Well, it is 100 miles away, lady."
Princess gets all huffy, turns back to the conductor and says snottily, "Well, thanks for your HELP! I don't know what's up YOUR ass!"
People are flat-out laughing at her now and I'm thinking, "Up his ass...?"
Princess Pompous storms off, complaining, "I don't know why it doesn't just go straight to Montauk."
Well, sweetheart, maybe it's because the train across the platform that says 'MONTAUK' on the side in big red lights is the one that goes straight to Montauk, and maybe you'd realize that if you tried to figure it out for yourself instead of expecting other people to do it for you...? Just a guess.
She then proceeds to drop her suitcase on the head of her lucky traveling companion while trying to place it on the overhead rack, laugh obnoxiously about it, get sloppy drunk and spill her drink on aforementioned traveling companion, and talk loudly on her cell phone, bitching about her horrid 'ordeal,' for the rest of the ride.
You know, I always think people on the subway are rude and inconsiderate, until I remember that the people taking the Long Island Rail Road are rude, inconsiderate, and Long Islanders.
No sleep 'til Brooklyn, yo.
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