(Editor’s Note: It’s been a long time since Fudge’s last Commute Diary, and this post won’t be NEARLY the same… But I will do my best!)
Every morning I wake up knowing I have at least an hour-long commute to a place that smells of trash and hatred… it’s magical.
In the past few months, my trains have been late, delayed, cancelled, you name it (shout-out NJ Transit)!! It’s been… well, a REAL TREAT!!
But today seemed different. Today, I caught my train ON TIME, things were lining up nicely to get to work early, and then this happened…
Some guy on the train just started puking. I didn’t get a good look at the chucker, so I can’t describe that part to you, though I imagine this is what the star of the show looked like…
But it brought this question to the forefront of my mind… What would you do in that situation?
Now, I myself have been hungover AS BALLS on the train before, but I’ve done it enough that I eventually drew a line in the sand… If I’m hungover, I am NOT going into work. No exceptions because that’s too dangerous a move. What if I end up doing what this guy did this morning?! No way Jose…
But the question is, what if I absolutely HAD to go in… Like, “if I didn’t show up I’d lose my job” HAD to go in?
Well, let’s see… What would I do in that situation?
Number 1, I’m looking for the trash or bathroom, most NJ Transit train-cars have bathrooms but sometimes there’s only one and if I’m puking on a train, I don’t think I’ll have time to find that bad boy. The shitty trash cans they do have are in the handicap areas which are basically in every train car, maybe I’ll let a rip in there.
Number 2, I’m aiming for the vestibule between cars (where the cars connect). For me, there’s a walkway in there that’s basically “outside” and you could totally justify puking in there. It’s away from most people, so you’re not bothering anyone else too badly. You’re just making a fucking mess that someone, somewhere along the line has to clean up.
Number 3, let’s assume I have my backpack with me (containing basically just my work laptop) AND let’s assume I have no room to move… And lez-bi-honest, these days exist, when you’re packed in like a Goddamn sardine with 7,000 other miserable commuters who don’t want to be bothered by shit, ESPECIALLY someone making them scoot over an inch to let them go to the bathroom. They’d probably rather you soil yourself and just not be bothered… Which brings me to my last resort (shout-out Papa Roach).
That backpack is your only way out, right?
At that point, you can’t move. You are stuck in your spot. You can either puke on the ground, splatter, cause complete chaos (which I witnessed this morning)… OR, get a new backpack and tell work your laptop exploded.
It seems simple at that point. This way you save face to the strangers you commute with daily and not become known as “that guy” PLUS you get a new backpack and maybe a new laptop!!
Either way, this morning’s wonderful commute re-affirmed a tradition I’ve long held near and dear regarding hangovers… “When in doubt, call in sick.”
The conclusion to this whole “guy puking on the train” thing was that I think the engineers called an ambulance after we arrived in NY. I swear if I puked because I was hungover and someone called an ambulance, I might give up drinking forever… So maybe he was actually fucked up.
Anyway, a wild day in the commuter world. I hate it more and more every day! TRA-LA-LA!!!
I am the Definition of Insanity,