BLOBBY'S BLOG

TAKING THE F TRAIN

A post over at Habitat 67 (which I try to read daily - if nothing else for the occasional posted pics of Garkawe....who btw gets a year older today!!!!) reminded me, in a roundabout way, of one of my more memorable subway encounters.

It was my second to last day at Cadwalader, Wickersham & Taft. For being there such a little time, I think people really liked me. On this day, after work they all (well not the entire firm!) took me out to Aye Carumba, up on W. 4th - which I don't think exists anymore (the establishment. The street is still there). No food and many many jumbo margaritas. I think at the time I weighed all of 140 lbs. Imagine what that combo does to a boy of 21 (start doing the math! go ahead!).

I finally told whomever was left that I had to go home - figuring if I was this drunk it had to be 2:00 a.m. Turns out it was 8:30!! P.M. !!! Yes, that's how drunk I got in four hours. I gave a big hug to my new best friend, Fred, as he headed home to Staten Island, and would not be coming to work on my last day. (Fred, if you're out there somewhere, write!) Frank and his wife were headed back to Brooklyn too, so we walked stumbled to the subway together. Before going into the station, Frank insisted we get food in our system. Probably good in some ways. Painfully bad in another.

Back to the train - Frank and spouse boarded whichever line they took to go home. I waited for the F. But standing was sooooo tiring. I thought I'd sit. And sit I did.....on the edge of the platform with my feet dangling in the tracks. I knew what I was doing. Right?? The horrified looks I got from other passengers told me they thought less of my behaviour. I saw the light of the approaching train in plenty of time to get my sorry ass off the ground and my legs weren't even close to being cut off by the front car! Geeeesh.

At that time the F train was one of the few lines that were air conditioned. It felt comfortable against the summer heat. Blobby immediately sat down and passed out. It could have been crappy ride. I could have ended up at the end of the line. To be honest, I didn't know where that was. I never ventured past my stop in Brooklyn (save ONE trip to Kings Highway - don't ask!). But it was my lucky day - as the train pulled into the Carroll Garden station, I awoke. But the second I stood up and proceeded to the doors I knew my luck had run out.

For those who don't know (which I assume would be most of you), Carroll Gardens is a really nice neighborhood-y stop. Not a high traffic hood, few businesses and consisting mostly of residences. A place where if people didn't know you, they'd have no issue stopping and questioning you. So there wasn't a lot of people getting off with me. I knew I was going to be ill, but figured I would hold it until the train departed the station. As it did, I approached the tracks to do the deed. I lean in and what do I see? Another train approaching!!! F@#& !!! So I hold it. I'll wait until this train pulls out, I says to myself, I says.

Or so I thought. Train stops. Doors open. People start to de-train. Blobby HEAVES. All over the platform. Suffice to say - it was not pretty. It was no problem, at least I don't think it was, to walk the two blocks home. But after there, I actually got my contacts out and then promptly dropped the case behind the toilet. I knew enough to leave them there. If I were to attempt to retrieve them, I'd have ended up there too. As it was, I woke up in the morning with every single light on in the apartment. How'd THAT happen?

I only thought I was green around the gills the next morning that is until I arrived at my last day of work (avec glasses) to be greeted w/bunches and bunches of cream filled pastries. UGH. New waves of nausea like I had never experienced before.

....and I (almost) never touched tequila again.