Jeremy's Weblog

I recently graduated from Harvard Law School. This is my weblog. It tries to be funny. E-mail me if you like it. For an index of what's lurking in the archives, sorted by category, click here.

Thursday, May 29, 2003

Grotesque Tales From the New York City Public Transportation System

Virtually verbatim, from this morning on the bus:

Man: So how's your nephew?
Driver: Good, good. They grow up so fast.
Man: So I have this friend who was 400 pounds.
Driver: Is that so?
Man: She was having trouble walking, breathing, moving. So she went to the doctor, and they said she had some circulatory problems. So she went into the hospital, and the blood wasn't flowing right, so they cut off a toe.
Driver: Wow.
Man: Yeah, and that didn't really help, so they cut off another, and then another, and one by one until all 5 were gone.
Driver: And then they removed the foot?
Man: No. Then they thought she has gall stones, so they cut her open and looked inside. And you know what they found?
Driver: No, what did they find?
Man: Her gall bladder was all gangrene. Like totally black and rotted.
Driver: So is she all better now?
Man: No, no, she died.

Followed by this morning on the subway:

A couple comes on the train. The man has a box of tic-tacs. He offers his girlfriend, or wife, or whoever she is. She says no, and gestures to the bottle of water she's got. As if drinking water means no tic-tac. But whatever. So she opens her water and takes a sip and makes an awful face, like she's just swallowed a rat. The man looks at her. Asks if the water's bad. She says she thinks so. He looks at. Says it looks ok. He smells it. Makes a face. Says it smells like something's wrong with it. She looks at it. Says it looks ok. She smells it. Makes a face. And then... And then... And then... And then she takes another sip. Really.

If you're also subjected to the New York City public transportation system (motto: "Did you get there? Isn't that enough?"), you may be able to recognize me -- I'm the guy constantly shifting his weight and trying to steady myself with my feet because I'm too frightened to touch any of the exposed metal surfaces.

Also funny -- heard a radio ad at some point today. I'm sure I just heard wrong, but it sounded like the commercial said: "St. Vincent's hospital. Taking good care of patients, whether it's your first visit, or your last." Lovely thoughts.