I Got On The Subway A Little Drunk Last Night And Did Something Weird


On Thursdays, cool people get drinks after work. I didn’t invent this, it just is what it is. It’s how the world works. Add it to the commandments, put it on a t-shirt — on Thursdays, cool people get drinks after work. Naturally, being a cool person, and yesterday being Thursday, I got some drinks after work. It was sweet. I won’t reveal who was or wasn’t there, for I’m not in the business of divulging the whens and wheres of others. You might suspect this to be some dubious effort to protect individuals. You would be wrong.

Keith, for example, could really use an acutely detailed description of where he was last night.

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I won’t discuss whether or not Keith was there drinking whiskey and snacking on chips provided free of charge by our waiter, a thanks for the reliable business we deliver each Thursday. Cool people stuff.

I was there. I drank a Jack & Coke, a bit bizarre because I don’t like Jack & Coke. What happened was I arrived a full round late, and just as the waiter was finishing up a new order he looked to me. Still donning my new Christmas coat and Chaps-like purse, I panic-ordered. Once I started down that path there was no veering.

If we’re being totally honest I need a new drink.

Eventually, I left. Drinking after work is cool but what’s even cooler is leaving. It’s the best. Simply put, there are important, invaluable things at home which no bar can provide.


It’s common practice in the city to, after hours, forget the subway exists. Alcohol intake has a direct correlation to number of taxis hailed, but I resist. I’m a committed subway taker and always have been. It’s just who I am.

I scooted down the stairs, through the gate, waited about 7 minutes (around minute 4 the thumb really starts to hover over that Uber app), and eventually hopped on the downtown R train.

R is a nice train. It’s got different colored seats, and I like colors.

I stepped on and decided to stand (sitting is too risky, leaves me too vulnerable to any ill-intentioned riff-raff after hours). I clung to a pole for stability, looked at the kind middle-aged woman next to me and said, “How ya doin?”

It’s a weird fucking move to say hello to somebody on the subway.

Believe it or not it’s hard to find things on the New York subway that are considered “weird.” A homeless man sitting next to you may start vomiting. Not considered weird. A group of men may jump on, play loud music, and start doing backflips. Not weird.

But randomly saying hello to someone? Weird as fuck.

This is what Twitter thought.


The lady, stunned, gave a half-smile then waited until I broke eye contact to turn and face the other direction. Embarrassed, I stared at the floor until the next stop. Then I got off, walked down one car, got back on, put headphones in, and sat down.

I didn’t move a muscle, make a sound, or interact in any way with any other humans until I got home, like a normal person.

I apologize to anyone I may have offended.