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NYC SUBWAY CHRISTMAS FAIL

empty-subway-car

via secretnyc.com

Overheard in the mall. “One Christmas fail made me frightened to ride the subway.”

I borrowed a suit from a friend, sky blue, for the office Christmas party that turned into the biggest Christmas fail.

The only reason it doesn’t count is I wasn’t married or had kids or lived at home. It was me and I was a mess.

It started early when the boys from the 7th Floor walked to the Wall Street Club. We got a buzz on feeling like downtown big shots.

Once we cleared the security we started tossing back shots and beers. Like an old fashioned Christmas, except you need practice doing shots and beers if you don’t want a Christmas fail.

The band started playing and the guys found the data entry girls and danced the night away. My balance was shot from the shots.

I needed a place to rest and opened a door to find a room full of passed out people. They looked dead, like they’d been gassed.

They were my people, so I found a place and took my position.

Someone on staff said I couldn’t stay there.

I said I was leaving with the rest of the crowd and took a nap.

Around three in the morning something was bumping my foot. It was the vacuum. A cleaning crew was in the room and I was in the way.

I stood up, got woozy, and walked across the hall to the bathroom. Still wrecked.

One big hurl later I felt better but couldn’t find my glassed. Probably dropped them on the way in? I looked everywhere in the place I’d been and the bathroom.

Finally I looked in the toilet. Oh, there they were. I rinsed them and wore them. Hurl Vision.

When you hear of people attacked on the subway you don’t always hear the whole story. I should have attacked myself.

Instead, I drug down the stairs to the station, bought a token, and waited. My stomach started churning again.

The train showed up just as I was about to find another bathroom. Instead I got on the train, an empty car for an empty stomach. Or so I thought.

I should have found the bathroom first. Before the next stop I hurled on the subway trail floor. It was awful. A Christmas fail in technicolor.

Now the mess drifted back and forth as the train took off and stopped, a tide of Christmas booze running back and forth.

The only problem was one string of it pointed to me in my seat like a cartoon voice bubble.

When others got on, they noticed. I should have moved. I was ‘that guy.’

No one answered back when I wished them a Merry Christmas. A sky blue suit and murky shoes didn’t add to the Christmas spirit for anyone.

Since then I’ve stopped doing a few things. One of them is drinking and train riding.

It’s a bad combination when you’re stuck between stops and you need to go.

That Christmas fail didn’t ruin Christmas, but it didn’t add anything either.

About David Gillaspie
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