a tale of two spills

Number One

Monday was a pretty average day, until I witnessed a tragedy of miniscule proportion. Not one of those moments that scars for life like falling in a vat of razor blades, just one of those regular everyday tragedies. My day started like many others, with a short trek to the subway station. After waiting ever so patiently, I got on the subway and was surprised the train wasn’t very packed for the rush hour, a lot of people standing, but not crowded.

That morning I rode on the N train, which until just after the Queensboro station, is above ground. As it approaches this particular station, there is a curve to the right. When the trains make these turns, one may often find themselves shifting their feet to keep their balance. Well on Monday as the train was making this curve many people moved to keep their balance, but one lady wasn’t so lucky. You see, her drink from Starbucks didn’t have any feet to shift, so it tipped over, and the whole cup of coffee spilled out and started flowing all over.

She had this shocked look and I kinda of thought it odd the way some people were shooting these looks of disdain in her direction. I can understand people in sandals or open-toed shoes, but really, I just felt sorry for this poor woman. It was monday morning, and her coffee spilled, she probably had a horrible day if that was how her week was. She probably could have used a hug, (not from me), but from someone... Besides, it actually smelled really nice...

Number Two

Wednesday was a nice change of pace. I had been looking for the opportunity to donate blood, which I did regularly in OK, but hadn’t yet here. The company I work for had a blood drive at another location where I got to go today. I went in for my shift, but left for a couple hours to go to the location with the blood drive. The ride uptown was a short 15 minutes on the F train. When I got on the car going up, it was oddly crowded for the time of day and there was this weird acting guy gripping the center pole tighthly.

I began to get whiffs of the guy. It was 9 a.m. and the guy smelled like a liquor cabinet. I noticed a bottle of vitamin water in his free hand, I and I’m pretty sure, he was “recycling” the bottle. After a couple of stops he took a seat that had freed up and the few feet of space helped dissipate the odor. Then, just before 14th street, he started spilling his guts, or to be more precise, the contents of said guts. The splash came inches from me, as in two-inches-closer-and-it-would-have-been-on-my-leg inches from me.

On the subway, there is not really any where to go, and I had to look to make sure it didn’t touch me as it started it’s outward flow. I caught a glimpse of the guy who had this deer-in-headlights look as if asking “what happened?” Now, I’m a not a drinker whatsoever, but even I know, you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, but I think the contents of his recycled bottle were his breakfast.

I didn’t have time to feel bad for the guy because... well... I have a tendency to get nauseous when I smell vomit. Gum and coffee are one story, bile and booze are a completely different work of fiction. I had to make a concentrated effort to not smell, otherwise, my breakfast and his might have become close friends. At the next station, I joined the migration of people moving to the next car.

P.S. Regarding donating blood, a friend of mine has some good things to say on the subject, so check this out once you finish here.

http://pennysworthofthoughts.blogspot.com/2011/07/you-just-might-save-life.html