Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Crying in Public

Sitting on the subway, I noticed a man sitting across from me. As he seemed relatively attractive, I did the one thing I always do when I see something interesting: I stare at it.

So I stared him for awhile. I stared at his dapper clothes. I stared at his expensive watch. I stared at his "I'm not trying too hard hair", trying to figure out how much of a lie that really was.


Then all of a sudden, his shoulders started shaking. I thought to myself, "Maybe he has the hiccups".


But then they started shaking more, so I thought to myself, "Maybe he's that guy who was on The Today Show who had the hiccups FOREVER!" But then I remembered that that was a 12-year-old girl. 

So then I thought, "Maybe his shoulders are shaking because he has Tourette's!" It was at that moment that I noticed the tears coming down his face, and I realized the truth of his shaking shoulders. 
"You poor thing," I thought to myself. "You don't have to be sad that you have Tourette's."

Surprisingly, People Crying in Public, or PCP, is not such a rare occurrence in the big apple. I see approximately 2 PCPs per week--and I rarely go outside.

But as the wise sage Rihanna once said, "You're so ugly when you cry. Please, just cut it out."

Yes, Rihanna, I couldn't have said it better myself.

So, to help the population, I've compiled a list of things you could be doing instead of crying in public.

1. Stop crying in public.


2. Ride the subway without crying in public.


3. Take the elevator without crying public.


4. Eat a hamburger without crying public.


5. Buy a sweater vest without crying in public.


As you can see, there are a plethora of activities you could be doing instead of crying in public.


Because just as the wise sage Rihanna once said, "I'mma make you my bitch cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake cake." 

I couldn't have said it better myself.


Editors note from 2016: Uhmmmmmmmm what? I totally cry in public like everyday. 2012 me was so emotionally immature.

On Birthdays


            “Today’s my birthday!”

            “Happy birthday!” Rick, the guy behind the cash register at the concession stand, said. I felt like we had made a connection. A deep, meaningful bond. I smiled.

            “Thank you,” I said, as I realized that telling anyone it’s your birthday basically requires them to respond with a “happy birthday”, regardless of if they actually give a damn about your happiness.

            “Hmmm so… how much is the candy?” I asked.

            “It’s different prices,” Rick said.

            “Like what?” I asked.

            “Well this one is like four dollars, I think. Let me check. It’s four dollars. This other one is… four dollars. I think that this one is four-fifty, but I’ll have to look. No—it’s four dollars.”

            “Ok, let me figure out the average cost and get back to you.”

            As I mulled over my candy purchase, I turned and saw the line of people behind me, staring at me. Was it because I had already spent ten minutes too long at the register trying to figure out what I wanted? Was it because I had been flirting with a gay cash register man? I didn’t know for certain, but I was pretty sure it was because I had nice hair.

            I looked at the woman behind me. She looked happy to see me, even though she was frowning. I was glad I had skimmed through a body language book that told me how to read beyond obvious facial expressions.

            “All right,” I said to Rick. “I’ll take your overpriced candy, and your sexy cheekbones too.”

            Rick looked confused. Or maybe he was turned on.

             “Or just the candy. The candy is good.”

            “That’ll be five dollars,” Rick said.