I hate them. The smell of urine and minority when I get on the train in the morning is just a great start to a very long day. I would walk all the down to Wall Street from my Murray Hill apartment if I had the time, and taking a taxi is out of the question. The only private ride I'll ever take is the company car with a "professional," legal driver.
The dirty NYC subway system is full of hipsters and thugs, two types of people I would never associate with. The only relief I get is seeing the banker with the Goldman Sachs mini-duffel that has a disappointed and disgusted look on his face, just like me. I usually try to fight for a seat to avoid holding onto the contaminated bars, but never succeed as the orient always seem to snatch them up. Last week this girl got sick and threw up all over the floor. Relief washed over me in an awesome wave as my $400 Ferragamo loafers and $2,000 Armani suit were just missed by this woman's vile puke. If she were a company I would threaten a hostile takeover in the hopes that she would take a poison pill and die.
I am dreading tomorrow's subway ride, the only thing that gets me through it is my 80GB iPod and Brickbreaker on my crackberry. I am on level 32, there better not be any distractions on the train from hell so I can fucking beat this thing.
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