Tuesday is Always Crowded

I'm 8 people back from the front of the line waiting for the bus to go in to NYC. The people in line are so concerned about things being fair. They have little markers that they place in position so they don't lose their spot in line.

On the bus in a right side window seat, ankle is rubbing on the heater duct Mr. Semper Fi is pissed I had to sit next to him, he's already back to snoring. Creepy Rocker Chick in seat in front of me is picking at her lip piercing puss scab. An uptight middle-aged office drone is busily applying her eye make-up, why does the ugly cow bother, she must look hot in her own warped mind. I can only guess she needs to look good for her Mr. Douche in accounting.

Rocker Chick just did the "wake up where am I" full body convulsion, the result is 2 long skanky hairs are stuck to the headrest 6 inches in front of my face, and they are waving like a putrid banner from the AC blowing on them.

Almost in Newark, another 20 minutes to get to Port Authority, the epicenter of hope and opportunity for another Tuesday in the NYC. The heating duct has wore my ankle raw from the 500,000 mile old shock absorbers on my Martz Trailways chariot.