7:35am Crowded Manhattan bound F Train, 4th Avenue Park Slope
It's a crowded platform morning and I enter the train and spot an empty seat. The empty seat is situated between an overweight middle-aged woman and a man. The woman is slightly spilling into the empty seat. I make an instant evaluation to determine if being crushed is worth the rest. As my jeans touch the seat I see why this seat is empty but it's too late. I stuff myself, sweatshirt and purse, into the small space.
Sprawled out adjacent to the large lady is another woman. She's about 40 years old and white. She's dressed like she is going to a job interview at a nail salon in Sarasota, Florida. Sweatier than a yogi in a Bikram class, she is fanning herself with the morning paper.
I'm less than a minute into my ride and things get worse. Slumping over slightly, she spreads her floral skirted legs. Violently shaking the newspaper now she looks as if she is giving birth. I look at the face of the strap-hangers across the train but they just look back at me for my response. I look back at her. She doesn't look pregnant. Sweat is pouring down her face. And I think, IS SHE GOING TO HURL?
My brain begins to reel. Do I offer help? Any compassionate person would. Should I alert a train crew-member? Call 911? an ambulance? Scream-out "ANYONE A DOCTOR?"
I look at the face of the strap-hangers across the train once again, but they just look back at me for my response. I look back at her.
And then it occurs to me, she might be sick, in the head. I look over at her again, this time trying to evaluate with a more compassionate look. Her eyes roll towards the back of her head. She looks as is she is going to faint. Just then she lets out an orgasmic sigh, "OOOOOOHHH!" then silence... followed by a whisper, "oh that was intense."
You're telling me! I look at the face of the strap-hangers across the train once again, but they just look back at me for my response. I look back at her.
She stands up a new person. Free of the demon that possessed her, renewed. Wiping the sweat from her forehead she takes a deep breathe.
I look at the face of the strap-hangers across the train once again, but they just look back at me for my response. I look back at her.
The train stops. She walks off the train as normal as can be, as if nothing every happened.
I look at the face of the strap-hangers across the train once again, but they just look back at me for my response. I look back expressionless.
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4 comments:
whoa! that's a lot for 7:30 in the morning!!!
sounds to me like an orgasm or a baptist-gasm.
now, if you were Benny Hinn, or some other north florida minister, you could easily have helped this lady! I am sure they sell something online that would give you the powers to heal in this sort of situation.
My little brother spent 3 years in Tampa learning this art, and is now prepared for any sort of sickness: by land and sea. its pretty amazing. Ive seen him pull a sponge from the inside of a persons tricep via meditation and a small incision. He has also done numerous miracles to various sea creatures across the gulf of mexico.
He also can pat his head and rub his belly at the same time.
drugs, man. drugs.
Did you ever see "The O in Ohio"? Maybe she was inspired by it? Between the thought of that & the description ofher that you gave, I am a little grossed out.
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