Ever since I moved to New York City, people have been asking me whether I have had any good “New York” stories. Here is one.
On my way from another 12 hour workday, still fully suited in business professional I stepped onto my Brooklyn bound “Q” train at the Times Square stop. It was about 9 o’clock at night. The Times Square stop is just the second station on the Brooklyn bound “Q” line, so the train coming down from the 57th Street station is still relatively empty. Surprisingly, that night there were a lot more people out, so I was happy to find a comfortable seat to read my Level II CFA course materials.
The train filled up pretty quickly, but I already was reading up on Purchasing Parity theory. However, moments later, still buried into my book, I scented a stark smell of alcohol. Once I raised my head up and looked to the left, I found myself next to a obviously intoxicated homeless gentleman. The smell of alcohol and staleness filled up the air almost immediately. And for a moment, I considered getting up to find another spot, but then I thought to myself: “That’s probably what everyone is expecting, so I might as well stick around and see what happens.”
Minutes later, just as the train was reaching the Canal Street station, the man next to me, who was undoubtedly extremely drunk at that point, pulled out a flask of something that smelled like whiskey and offered it up to me. At that point, I thought to myself – “Only if this had been a can of Pabst, I would probably have to try it!” So I politely rescinded his offer claiming my year long commitment to Pabst.
After taking a couple of swings of the mystery beverage, the man pulled out a stack of scratch-off lottery tickets and went at it probably hoping for a financial turnaround. Still being drunk and rowdy, the man was animating his consecutive disappointments.
As we were crossing Manhattan Bridge and after finishing up his scratch-off task, the man turned to me and decisively said “I gotta piss!” At that moment, what I didn’t realize is that he was the man of his word. After mumbling something to himself he got off at Dekalb Avenue stop. As I glanced down at the floor and his seat, I found that there was warm yellowish fluid all over. The man just went, literally!! That was my cue!