Day 190: I Fucking Hate Saturdays II

The platform’s too fucking crowded

That means the train is going to be too fucking crowded

But nobody seems to mind

Especially the man in a white linen jacket

Damn, I want that linen jacket

He has his headphones on

Carrying a bundle of flowers

No wrapping, just the clutch of his hand

And he dances a mute salsa

Almost too light to even notice

He’s in the zone

He’s the man

I’m not

Because I fucking hate Saturdays

*

The trains too fucking crowded

Can’t even get a seat

I mean, I could

But that would intrude on precious space

They deserve that space

And so do I

I hover next to two gabbing high schoolers

They go on and on about train transfers

The spit slapping off their retainers

Surely dampening their masks

They don’t seem like good friends

They’re scratching and clawing for conversation

But who am I to judge?

I’m just a dude that fucking hates Saturdays

**

A gang of tourists came on the train

A pimply foreheaded family

Complete with a maskless child

They’re presumably from Texas

Because nobody else would rep the Dallas Mavericks

The Dad felt my cold stare and pulled his mask up

The aunt still doesn’t know how to work hers

I stare it the nose, telepathically trying to make it explode

They’re surrounded by the toxic fumes of Monster Energy Drink

They utter “Lexington” over and over

Just so they won’t forget

Linen jacket gives away a flower, headphones still on

High schooler has never been to Brooklyn

And there’s me, just fucking hating Saturdays

***

Broadway’s a disaster as usual

Sun soaked shoppers looking disoriented

The line for Zara stretches a whole block

But it’s allegedly cheaper than Bloomingdales

A girl at the ATM does the Al Bundy

The machine doesn’t even sing it’s signature song

Italian dudes blow smoke in my face

A jackhammer or two, for some reason

Nobody paying attention

Nobody paying any mind

Faces in their phones

And my face in mine

Tapping furiously

About how much I fucking hate Saturdays

****

Behind the counter again

I’m sorry, can you pull up?

Bathroom’s across the street

Howzzit goin’?

It’s Fourteeeen thirty-twoooo

Needuh bag?

Fourteen thirty-seven

Yajus’ gotta hit sumthin’ on the screen

Needuh receipt?

Ariegh, have a goodun’

Over and over with none of my regulars

Just faceless strangers nonstop until I lock the door

[Sigh]

I fucking hate Saturdays.

– TeeCoZee