PATH Train: Judgements

Some of my best material is sparked by a simple PATH train ride from good ol' Hoboken to 23rd Street. Mind you, I didn't feel well this morning and took the train during the NON-PEAK hour of 10:30am.

Today, I had the pleasure of sitting next a girl wearing a pink shirt, who pulled out of her pink bag, a smaller pink bag that contained pink ballet slippers. Now, these ballet shoes were the real deal. As I sat there, watching her take a sewing kit out to repair a strap, I couldn't help but be envious of this girl who is living out my dream!!! Obviously, I'm totally kidding and have absolutely no desire to be a ballerina, but you know when you're little, it's the only thing on your mind. "When I grow up, I'm gonna be a ballerina princess!" you'd say. Meanwhile, you grow up to join the rest of the monkeys who live a routine life of waking up early, dressing to impress absolutely no one in your office, walking to a train, subway, bus to make it in by 9am. Work until 6pm. Repeat daily.
Anyway, yea - I was just really in awe at the fact that this girl could answer the question of "What do you do for a living?" with "Well, I'm a ballerina."



So, I took the liberty of doing that thing I do on a daily basis - you know, judging. Yea, that's right - judging. I spotted this guy getting up out of his seat to get out at the 14th Street stop. Based on his horrific ensemble of baggy black cargo pants and stained white linen top, I figured [insert judgment here - I'm leaving mine out]. The turnaround on all this was the following: When he stood up, I saw a newspaper under his arm in that familiar shade of orange. That's right, The Financial Times. Suddenly, my judgment shifted...all because of a newspaper. I began thinking that this dude's job is semi-important because he's reading a highly respected financial paper and that I thought the complete opposite simply because he was adorned in rags. That'll teach me. Shame on you, Z.
I will however say that if this WASN'T the PATH and it was New York City, I probably would have thought about all of that a whole lot differently.



There was also this girl on the PATH train who kept raising up her arm and smelling herself to see if she was foul. I mean, if you're going to try to inconspicuously smell yourself every 5-10 minutes, you may as well GO FOR IT ALL THE WAY because by the time you've smelled yourself for the 6th instance, everyone on the train has already caught you in the act at least once.



Random Thought: I've realized that as I got older, I started checking out guys (and girls) for rings. Mostly, the men to see if they're single and women to see what their engagement ring looks like. But back to the men: I wonder at what age I started doing this! I know I'm not alone, because my girlfriends have admitted to similar glances. I guess at 17-years-old, if Johnny Meatpacker wants to ask you out, you're only concern is if he passed his driver's exam. But at 25-26-years-old, you want to know if Johnny Meatpacker is on the market. The meat market.