I’ve done a lot of hard time on the commute–a lot I tell you–and I have the battle scars to boot. This is a forum for those too polite to speak up, or too afraid of getting shot at for asking someone to quiet down on a cell phone. Its all in good fun, and strictly for entertainment purposes.
Want to get in touch? Email me your best (or worst) commuting pictures at thecrankycommuter@gmail.com.
One of my all time favorite commutes was when I was riding a rush hour train on the Port Washington line. The 17 year old girl in front of me grabs her blackberry from her huge Louis Vuitton bag (why the heck does a 17 year old need a blackberry and more to the point, an LV bag?) and proceeds to have a conversation at the top of her lungs about absolutely nothing. Of course, she manages to insert the word “like” into that conversation at least 47 times. When the scintillating conversation finally comes to an end (boo hoo), my new buddy decides to bust out a bottle of nail polish and give herself a manicure on the train! I mean, who cares about the 100 other people in the car that have to breathe in those fumes, right? I mean, like, I have plans now and, like, I have to like look fabulous…when called out by myself and other annoyed passengers, she acts as if she’s in shock and didn’t realize what she was doing was inconsiderate. Who raises these people??!! Where do they come from?!