Train Stories, April Edition
This morning was my first venture out into the world after an annoying and altogether gross bout with the bubonic plague. This is a lie, but really, who gets shingles? Me, that's who. For Christ's sake.
Things that were weird on the R train this morning:
1. When the doors opened to the Rector street station, the smell of Swiss Colony came marching in. Why? One wonders how the usual pooponiondogdirt smell, sometimes driven out by hotgarlicoil or sweetsugarnuts, was somehow lost to the opaque memories of years long gone, back to the days when "The Mall" was a new concept and some one's babysitter always had a gum-snapping, feathered-hair friend working at Swiss Colony. Memories of getting dragged past glittery glass brightly lit with spangly bangly things no 7-yr-old could buy...past whiffs of makeup and perfume, the plastic-fantastic neon perversions of Spencer's Gifts, through the soft miles of leather and denim to finally rest like an obedient and (shut UP, Gaaawd!) silent dog next to the babysitter loitering in the back of the Swiss Colony, listening to the friend's gum snap and crack while they gossiped the time away. Swiss Colony smells like summer sausage, cheese, crackers, and the biggest pickles on the planet, floating in a jar of wicked green juice like no pickling agent you've ever known, or ever will know again. A very German pickle, muscular and sweaty.
2. There was a dude that looked like a younger, hotter version of Javier Bardem. Did I stare? Does your mama howl at the moon? Girrrrl.
He got on at Prospect Avenue, which tells me that he is my alternate universe husband. Had I done some dumb thing 1 nanosecond earlier (or later), I'd be married, throwing dishes, and having hot, passionate, what-do-you-call-its with Mr. Javier Bardont right now.
3. This poor woman with a quiet, closed face was bringing a large bouquet of flowers and two mylar balloons to someone in the city. She was pressed up against the pole and just waiting the tides out, people brushing past, pushing, and staring at such a cheery sight so early in the morning. One balloon was a big yellow happy face. The other was red and said "Congratulations." New baby? Graduation? Meh. I was more transfixed by the balloons. As one might guess, I am easily bewitched by all things shhiiiiny.
The balloons moved back and forth and eventually I could not help but think that they were kissing. Then, when a particularly eager crowd pushed through (correlating, unfortunately, with a song change on my Ipod), it was very clear that the balloon couple was also dancing. Kissing. And dancing. To "Baby Come Back." Jesus.
I can't think of anything else...but wasn't that enough? As I conclude, I must say that the weirdest thing on the train this morning was probably me. And scene.
Things that were weird on the R train this morning:
1. When the doors opened to the Rector street station, the smell of Swiss Colony came marching in. Why? One wonders how the usual pooponiondogdirt smell, sometimes driven out by hotgarlicoil or sweetsugarnuts, was somehow lost to the opaque memories of years long gone, back to the days when "The Mall" was a new concept and some one's babysitter always had a gum-snapping, feathered-hair friend working at Swiss Colony. Memories of getting dragged past glittery glass brightly lit with spangly bangly things no 7-yr-old could buy...past whiffs of makeup and perfume, the plastic-fantastic neon perversions of Spencer's Gifts, through the soft miles of leather and denim to finally rest like an obedient and (shut UP, Gaaawd!) silent dog next to the babysitter loitering in the back of the Swiss Colony, listening to the friend's gum snap and crack while they gossiped the time away. Swiss Colony smells like summer sausage, cheese, crackers, and the biggest pickles on the planet, floating in a jar of wicked green juice like no pickling agent you've ever known, or ever will know again. A very German pickle, muscular and sweaty.
2. There was a dude that looked like a younger, hotter version of Javier Bardem. Did I stare? Does your mama howl at the moon? Girrrrl.
He got on at Prospect Avenue, which tells me that he is my alternate universe husband. Had I done some dumb thing 1 nanosecond earlier (or later), I'd be married, throwing dishes, and having hot, passionate, what-do-you-call-its with Mr. Javier Bardont right now.
3. This poor woman with a quiet, closed face was bringing a large bouquet of flowers and two mylar balloons to someone in the city. She was pressed up against the pole and just waiting the tides out, people brushing past, pushing, and staring at such a cheery sight so early in the morning. One balloon was a big yellow happy face. The other was red and said "Congratulations." New baby? Graduation? Meh. I was more transfixed by the balloons. As one might guess, I am easily bewitched by all things shhiiiiny.
The balloons moved back and forth and eventually I could not help but think that they were kissing. Then, when a particularly eager crowd pushed through (correlating, unfortunately, with a song change on my Ipod), it was very clear that the balloon couple was also dancing. Kissing. And dancing. To "Baby Come Back." Jesus.
I can't think of anything else...but wasn't that enough? As I conclude, I must say that the weirdest thing on the train this morning was probably me. And scene.
posted by Shiny at 11:19 AM
4 Comments:
oh honey, don't ride the train on drugs. or do. anything that makes onionarmpitsweatsockcatpee smell like cinnabon-mall-smell has to be good.
Mmmm...I'm sniffing my Swiss Colony Toffee tin right now. (Hey, it's a good place to keep odds and ends after all the candy is gone.)
Now I'm hungry. This sucks!
I want Swiss Colony licorice whips right now.
There was one in Twin Lakes. Remember when Twin Lakes was stone and retro and one-of-a-kind?
Now it looks like every other crappy strip mall. I can't look at it when I drive by or I get depressed.
That was probably the one I was remembering, then. The babysitter's name was Tony...or Debbie...can't remember the regime I was under at the time, but it was one of them. And the friend was a TOTAL AHOLE with blue eyeshadow and fat, pink cheeks.
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