Two things from last night that I just can’t seem to wrap my head around.
1. Was walking toward Madison Square Park from the east when I stumbled upon a sleek white Ford sedan, like the old Crown Victoria undercover cop cars that would sneak up on you when you were a teenager up to no good. The car was virginal white, except for a blue MTA logo and the word “Bus.”
Bus. That concerned me. What does it mean when our city’s transit authority thinks its car is a bus? (Gratuitous Steven Wright reference: If the door is ajar, is the window a spoon?)
2. On the 11:08 night train last night, a rotund guy with white stubble had a bag of popcorn from Zaro’s. With the regularity of a metronome, the guy shoveled handfuls of popcorn into his mouth all the way from Grand Central to points past Hawthorne.
Only his shoveling mechanism was out of whack, because three square feet of floor below him was covered with kernels that missed his mouth. They clung to his chest, his train pass holder, his stubble. And all the while, he just kept shoveling popcorn in the general direction of his mouth.
What does this guy’s freakin’ house look like?