Chapter: The Greatest City in the World My Ass

Some form of this post will eventually be included in Living with People I Want to Punch in the Throat. It is unedited and in rough draft form.

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I was in my early 20s when I met the (future) Hubs on the internet and moved to New York City. [Not sure what I’m talking about? Read that story here.] I knew living in New York would be harder than I was used to and most days I was up for the challenge. Sure, I had to thread an obstacle course every morning to get to work starting with a brisk walk to the subway station, a perilous journey down crumbling stairs into the moldy caverns beneath the city, and finally pushing my way through a literal wall of asses to get on the train and carve out the tiniest space to call my own. I endured men touching me, rubbing against me, flashing me, and just plain old staring at me. During my daily commute, I saw people clip their fingernails, apply their makeup, fix their hair, and on more than one occasion, pee in the doorway. I arrived at my subway stop overheated, exhausted, and convinced humanity was doomed. But then I’d ride the escalator (when it wasn’t broken) out of the dank tunnels and I’d emerge from the bowels of the city to be greeted with a beautiful day. The sun would shine, the buildings would gleam, and the energy of the city would hit me and I’d be restored.

Most days. Some days were just fucking rough. This was the roughest day.