Thursday, December 13, 2012


There's nothing like a good cry on the subway. I personally have had my fair share of public cries. I cry at the sight of a three-legged dog, a child sitting at a lunch table alone (this has occurred far too often than I would like to admit) or an especially touching extreme home makeover commercial, so it really should come as no surprise. I've teared up walking down Eighth Avenue, in the Duane Reade on 14th St, definitely in the middle of Times Square more than a few times, and once I even had a temper tantrum in Chelsea market (my apologies to the man working at Chelsea Thai who unfortunately suffered my wrath). **During the Chelsea market incident of 2011 my parents made me call the university wellness exchange, where the doctor told me it was not in fact my birth control that was making me feel weird but instead that I just needed to speak to someone because I was CRAZY. I suppose we will never know the truth.  I REFUSE to believe the doctors at the NYU student health center are even real doctors.  PROVE IT.  SHOW ME YOUR CERTIFICATE.  And don’t tell me I have “allergies” when I have pneumonia.  I digress. 

I feel no shame letting out a few audible sobs out on the 6 train. You know, there's no sadder feeling than someone telling you they hooked up with another girl and leaving you on the platform to think about what they just said DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF OPEN TRAIN TRACKS.  LET IT OUT.  JUST LET IT OUT.  Who cares if the rest of the passengers scoff at your actual emotion?  THEY ARE ROBOTS. And the people who aren’t robots, the human people, will look at you sadly and you’ll feel both embarrassed and important.  I’m probably crying because I saw a baby with an eye patch (SO SCARY), but how could anyone know that?  PROVE IT.  I love to keep the public guessing! 

**Just tried to google image "baby with eye patch" but couldn't look at the photos long enough to choose one.  Add that to my list of fears.  Right under pen in the neck tracheotomy. 

I get a secret sort of satisfaction seeing other people crying on the street. Not the OMG SHE SAID SHE WAS MY FRIEND BUT LIKE LOOK AT HER IN THERE I'VE HAD SOOO MUCH SWEET TEA VODKA I WANNA KISS ANYONE kind of midnight crying but the midday silent tears streaming down your face while juggling a phone in one hand and a hot tea in the other and spilling it down the front of your sweater which only makes you cry harder and scream REALLY?? REALLY?? and shake your fists in the air as if you are in some sort of Tennessee Williams play (wait…I’m simply describing myself here). 

I just want to say, people of New York city, I am here for you.  Let your emotions run rampant.  Walk through the Union Square Holiday market alone and bawl your eyes out.  I know I will be.  You can find me taking a second sample from those people handing out fudge. 

P.S. Currently writing the Craigslist Sandy: Part 2 post. THAT is something to cry about.