Distractions (Long-Winded and More Drawn-Out Ridiculous Version)

I don't think it's unreasonable of me to be disgusted by the countless number of disgusting things I've witnessed while being amongst the crowded streets and Subways of New York. There are things that I have seen that would make you cringe, and even more things that would probably make you gag. And the fact is that when you ride the Subway or get crammed into an elevator with a bunch of people, you are forced to get comfortable with discomfort. It's irritating and it's gross.

I'm pretty sure it has never been acceptable to fart in public, and yet, I'll be riding along and, all of a sudden, I'll smell it. Not cool. People seem to think their anonymity will keep them safe from being discovered. Perhaps it does. Perhaps I'm just too tired or angry at the moment to call out a group of people and accuse any one of them of this disgusting act of inconsideration. Sometimes you'll be walking outside, and people think that because they are in an open-air arena, they can just let one fly and continue walking. Not true! People behind them can still smell it!

In the manner of politeness, if you ever feel the need to pass gas in public, do everyone around you a favor and find a corner to submit your deposit into the atmosphere. Or hold it in, if you will not perish by doing so.

I wish that were the worst of the offenses I have seen in this fair city, but unfortunately, bodily fluids left out in public are as commonplace as seeing a candy wrapper or other litter lying around. Puddles of unidentified liquids are everywhere, and you always hope that it's water, but if it hasn't rained recently, chances are it's pee. On St. Patrick's Day, I sat with my cousin and observed a grown man urinate on the back of a van across the street in broad daylight.

A lot of times puddles are from dogs who have been out walking. This is a little more forgiving, as they don't have any other place to go. But the smell of urine hits you like a bag of dirt, and with summer just around the corner, it's only going to get worse before it gets better.

Farting and peeing and dead pigeons aside, I have seen more cases of public vomit in the city of New York than I care to recall. It is unbelievable. A lot of neighborhoods in Manhattan and a few in Brooklyn and Queens are regularly patrolled by custodians who sweep and maintain the sidewalks and entrances to stores and buildings. As part of the public works programs, neighborhoods are divided up into certain partnerships or alliances, and the businesses all take part in these programs to keep their areas cleaned. These areas are all places that tourists go. So even when you visit New York from outside and you think it's dirty, it could be a lot worse.

Needless to say, however, there is far more ground to be covered than could possibly be cleaned up by a finite number of men and women in any given time frame, and there is no way of knowing every time someone's puke hits the pavement. This is evident in every neighborhood, the ones that are patrolled or not. Anybody is capable of puking at any time, and, by God, it does happen.

I've seen puddles of all different breadth and pigment, some chunky, some soupy. In the bitter cold month of February, I've seen one puddle that was frozen to the sidewalk. I've seen people in the act up close and far away. Just tonight I watched a very healthy-looking man stand over a trash can and meticulously vomit, making sure to aim straight down into the hole of the receptacle. He was as aware of his actions and as polite as he possibly could have been, considering his having to throw up in public. It was nice that he did it in a trash can. He had track pants and headphones on. By the looks of it, I would say that he had to vomit as a result of his working out, as opposed to drinking too much, which would typically be the default suggested reasoning behind such a crime; but, for whatever reason, he did it. He puked in public. It was fun to watch, but still disgusting.

The worst incident I have yet encountered happened to me a few weeks ago when I was riding home on the Subway. I was leaning against the door as I typically do when there is not a seat available. The train was making it's usual stops, and a gentleman approached the doors as the train started to slow down upon reaching the station. He was standing just to the left of me facing out, while I was facing in. Before the train was able to stop, though, I heard it, the unmistakable sound of a solid-liquid hybrid slapping against the rubber floor of the Subway car. I instinctively dodged out of the way and hopped across to the other side of the car, where nobody was standing. The car stopped and the doors opened and I simultaneously turned to watch the man exit the car, vomit trailing behind him, as he made his way to the nearest trash can, slipping in his mess once before he reached it.

Thankfully, no residue splashed upon me, and I was left unscathed, except for the fact that I had to remain on the car with the stench of freshly-regurgitated stomach acid milling about until I reached my stop.

I was wondering what it was that could have made this man throw up so suddenly. I realized that perhaps my mere presence standing next to him was enough to bring him to sudden and uncontrollable nausea. Maybe it was the fact that as soon as I realized he was standing there, I asked him if he wanted to look at the open wound I had on the back of my hand.

I turned to him, saying "Hey, buddy, check this out!" while peeling back my bandage to reveal a pussy, oozing sore. I put it right in his face, so naturally, he threw up.

Or maybe it was that I was picking my nose, and I caught a big, slimy, green booger and proceeded to wipe it on the glass of the window right in front of his field of vision.

"Barf!"

Or maybe it was when I took the shoe and sock off my right foot so I could pick the toe jam out between my toes. I was holding my shoe and sock near his nose, and I probably leaned in a couple of times since I was trying to balance on one foot.

"Barf!"

Or maybe it was when I cracking my knuckles or clearing my pleghmy throat or squeaking my squeaky eye.

"Barf!"

Maybe it was that I asked him to hold my dead cat while I tied my shoe.

"Barf!"

It could have been any one of those things. Maybe I just wanted to see how far I could push it before I was able to make a grown man throw up.

The Subway is full of all sorts of distracting things though: advertisements with pictures of gross feet and skin disorders offering painless surgery or treatments that will make you beautiful again.

And speaking of beautiful, there are multitudes of beautiful women, of course. That goes without saying. This is New York, after all.

The other day I counted the number of women in one train car, which came out to around forty (I didn't keep exact count, because, let's face it, that would be creepy). Out of those forty ranging all ages and ethnicities, I would say that at least a third of them were pretty good-looking. I couldn't tell about some of them because they were facing the other way, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt.

That means that at any given moment, the ratio of good-looking women is about 1 in 3. In some areas, it's even higher than that. It's not unusual to see three or four or a dozen beautiful women right in a row. As powerful as women can be in this city, be it as businesswomen, models, actresses, or waitresses, keeping up appearances is very important. And, speaking on behalf of the men of this city, we all appreciate it.

Another distraction that occurs quite frequently is that of people carrying things. Most people have a bag or a purse with them. I am typically with my mammoth book bag that carries everything I might need in the course of a day. I can get it down to a slimmer size, but it is usually pretty bulky. Other people have groceries, books, posters, bicycles, those annoying carts with things in them. When people try to bring these items on the Subway, needless to say, they take up a lot of extra space, and that can get limited, making people cranky.

People frequently carry musical instruments with them as well. There are obviously a lot of musicians in the city, and gigging around requires them to tote their instruments along with them wherever they go. You might think that I would see a lot of guitars or violins or trumpets, but I think the most popular instrument I've seen being taken for rides on the Subway is the string bass. I have seen so many string bass players wheeling their gargantuan instruments around, it really is quite remarkable and ironic. Aside from a piano or a harp, the string bass is probably the most massive instrument that is commonly played. And, of course, it is so necessary in a jazz group or a concert orchestra, that the string bass player needs to get there. But it's not going to fit in a cab, so the bass player is relegated to using the Subway. Or at least that's what it seems like to me.

The distractions in New York are endless. It is necessary to bring a book or an iPod with you most times, so you are able to distract yourself from its endless distractions. Otherwise you might get distracted, and then you would forget where you were going in the first place.