104:60) Eric A. Hochman
Date: 19-MAR-94   2:22

 So tonight, I thought all the yellow trains would be off somewhere
 recovering from yesterday, but I was wrong.  I didn't get into the
 subway until about 11:45, and nothing happened for about 15 minutes,
 except for some deranged resident of the subways walking up to a
 transit cop and saying:

 "You only got that job because you're President Bush's son! You're not
 qualified."

 The cop (very politely, I might add) suggested that she behave herself,
 because it was a lot colder upstairs, and she wandered off.  The cop and
 I looked at each other, and we both rolled our eyes.  Just about then,
 two identical yellow trains went by, about two minutes apart.  They
 were the ones I saw last night, with the weird square objects that I
 couldn't identify.  Tonight I got a closer look at them, and realized they

 were some new variety of crane.  The weird thing was they did not have the
 normal air horn, but something that sounded more or less like a duck being
 slowly strangled.

 Soon afterwards, a real train showed up.  Now last night, I expected everyone
 on the train to be drunk, and even bought beer as a defensive measure.  A
 good general rule of life is that if everyone else in a room (or train) is
 drinking, you should be too.  As much as I hate blending into the crowd
 sometimes it's the right thing to do.  Of course, nobody on the train last
 night was drunk, but everyone on tonight's train was (and, of course, I
 was not prepared for it).

 Down on the other end of the car, four people were passing a bottle of
 something around.  Across from me, someone was hiding a can of Bud inside
 a New York Post (a futile gesture if there ever was one), and off to one
 side, one of the subway's permanent residents was having an intimate
 discussion with a bottle of Olde English 800.  I was feeling very left
 out.

 Hi Lisa! I think Janet resigned from this conference, so there's no point
 in talking to her anymore.

 At that point, another drunk wandered into the car.  He carried a Bic
 lighter, and a black pen, one in each hand.  He dropped the lighter.  He
 picked it up.  Dropped it again.  Picked it up again.  Dropped it; picked
 it up.  Now, to be different, he dropped the pen, and picked that up.
 For his grand finale, he dropped both of them, picked them up, looked at
 everyone in the car, said "Fuck all of you!" and disappeared out the side
 door.  As soon as he was gone, the other drunk put down his bottle of
 malt liquor, looked at me, and said "It's people like that who keep
 people like me from making an honest dollar."  I nodded in agreement -
 who am I to question the hierarchy of the homeless?  He wished me a good
 evening and disappeared into the next car.

 We all had to change trains at Chambers St., but this time there was a
 train to Brooklyn waiting for us, which was fortunate - I didn't have
 my laptop with me tonight, and wouldn't have been able to post this if I
 had gotten stuck there again.  A few minutes later, the drunk reappeared,
 bowed, and said "We meet again."  Two stops later, he left the train by
 opening one of the side doors, and jumping off from between cars.  I'll
 have to try that sometime, just for a change of pace.
- - - - -
.