The Flight

I was the next victim. In a foolish act of recklessness, I decided to go to the washroom on the aircraft. We had reached (so I though) a nice cruising altitude, and the waitress was up and about. Well, blaring on the P.A.
WOULD THE MAN WHO JUST GOT UP TO GO TO THE RESTROOM RETURN TO HIS SEAT NOW! YOU ARE A DANGER TO YOUR OWN SAFETY AS WELL AS THE SAFETY OF OTHERS!!!
Yes, there is NO question mark, although technically in the form of a question, it was NOT verbalized as a question, rather a command... one that I decided against following, due to a bladder that was about to blow.
Anyway, that was NOTHING compared to the next threat. As we were about to land, the dude across the aisle from us was daydreaming with his bag on his lap... (she had announced that ALL CARRY ON BAGGAGE MUST NOW BE STOWED)... can you see where this is going? P.A. time:
I REPEAT, ALL CARRY ON BAGGAGE MUST BE STOWED FOR LANDING
He was in a dreamland... didn't hear. Well, she marched right up to him, and tore a HUGE strip off...(sans P.A. this time)
IF YOU DO NOT PUT THAT AWAY, I WILL TELL THE CAPTAIN NOT TO LAND THE PLANE!
He was very sorry... to have gotten on that flight I'm sure.
So, to recap, in a nutshell: 1 Flight, many threats.
The Bus

We were so kind as to start the next tirade. Being from out of town, we asked the bus driver when we should get off the bus to head down to our hotel near Central Park. He told us ‘Lexington Ave’. Then a line up of people approached, asking “Is this where I get off to go to
DID I SAY THIS WAS YOUR STOP? LISTEN TO THE ANNOUNCEMENTS!!
Snap… Lose it!
We quietly got off at the next stop.
The Subway

Anyway, to make a short story long…
(note from author: I’m skipping many details of the New Yak trip in this blog entry to keep this one to the ‘travel’ itself… I’ll put ‘vacation’ part in another entry).
So, we are sitting on the subway platform near Staten Island (we just missed the ferry), when we hear a drunken sounding person at the far end shuffling along asking people how to get to the hospital, he needs to get his broken leg (the one he’s walking on) fixed.
DON’T MAKE EYE CONTACT – DON’T MAKE EYE CONTACT – DON’T…
So, he continues the shuffle… RIGHT TO US and sits down next to me, breathing his foul, putrid breath onto me.
Hi shere… I needsh yor hep gettin to sha hoshpital. I broke mie leg, I need it ficksin. I got it fickzd, but not so good. Whersh the hoshpital?
(note the ‘drunken’ dialect).
MVG (kindly while I pretended not to notice the dank humid person next to me), explained that we were from out of town and did not know where the hospital was. She then tried to help him, asking if he knew in what general direction it was. He then told his life story (in slurrish drunken dialect)… then swung wildly around at the person on the other side and started all over… we made a break for it to the far end of the platform…
Shortly after this, we wore our legs to mere stumps as we completed our 256 blocks of walking around looking for somewhere to eat...
Later. VG
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