“Miss, this ain’t a tea party.”

Subway cars a not luxurious…they stink more often than not and are only slightly cleaner than a public toilet. During rush hour, millions of people fight, claw and wedge themselves in for a ride to their soulless jobs. There is usually at least one woman who feels like she’s riding the Orient Express, on her way to a life to intrigue and mystery. She got her legs crossed elegantly on a train where inches are everything. Her size 9 heels usually give my shins a nice bruise. But hey, what are my bruises in comparison to her comfort?

“Sir, do I Really need to hear this?”

I love cell phones. My first cell phone looked like a brick and required its own carrying case. Each new bill was a surprise because every minute of talking was a roaming charge. Ah, the memories! Today, everyone has a cell phone (don’t leave a comment that you don’t have one, weirdo!). My twelve year old has a cell phone. My cousin’s 9 year old son has a cell phone. Is it necessary? Sure. Is it necessary to hear your over-loud conversation about the girl you met at the club the other night and you suspect she gave you crabs? Not so sure.

“Must you Stand Right here?”

This is a free country and you have the right to stand where you want. Except, of course, when you are hitting my knees with your laptop case while your “package” dangles a mere inch from my face. Sir, save that for your wife!

“Please, I need to get off this Crazy Thing!”

Oh, subway passenger, standing at the door. No amount of pushing will dislodge you from your coveted spot. You stand there to have an easier egress…except you don’t get off until the end of the line. All of New York streams past your shoulders and you don’t care that you’re blocking the exit. This is the same person who will be standing by the door in hell.

“Gee, I Love that song from Megadeth!”

I love my iPod. It’s the only way to travel on the train. I sit back in the morning, listening to music instead of your endless whining. To save my ears for later use, I keep the volume under concert level. But you don’t, do you? You listen at ultra high-volumes so that anyone even remotely close to you can appreciate Fergalicious for the pop music classic that it is.

“That a Remarkable Stroller! Does it come in a size other than Enormous?”

I like children. I love babies. I don’t like strollers. They’re big on an open avenue. They seem gi-normous on a packed subway car. If you must travel with your hellion, may I make a suggestion? Either take a cab or strapped little Susie to your back. Your double-wide Grecko special is not welcome on my trains, thank you very much! Also, if your child is old enough to walk, do you really need the stroller? I swear I’ve seen a ten year old in a stroller. Ten! What’s the chance that in 8 years that kid will be asking his girlfriend to diaper his butt and spank him? 100%!

“No, I Wouldn’t Like to hear how God has Changed your life.”

Just because you pay $2 doesn’t give you the right to preach about whatever you want to preach about. I don’t want to be saved; why else would I be willing to call New York City home?

“Is Your Child Possessed?”

I’ve said it before, I like kids…well-behaved kids. Not your snot-nosed, no-necked, spastic monster who likes to spit at random strangers. I look at your child and think about the mayor’s free condom program and why you didn’t go. I look in your face and see you thinking the same thing.

If you live in the city and have a Subway gripe, feel free to use the comment section. Like any good New Yorker, I’ll steal the good ideas and write another article about it!