+ Hickies, Port Authority style.

In line for the 9pm ACF to Jersey. The entire line waiting to climb on the bus watching a teenage couple give each other hickies. They look like refugees from a Dayton Ohio Hot Topic store, chasing their dream of just getting to the big city. Ahh the hickey, a long forgotten badge of honor.

+ M. Jackson

Up on the wheel this morning, fingerless leather gloves and a lot of gold showing.

He drives with focused determination, his 7 maybe more gold chains on his right wrist jingle and jangle. When my eyes are squinting into the Jersey sunrise I can't escape the sounds of the spurs deliberate march of the town sheriff.

M. Jackson is the man.

+ Monologue, Dialogue, Yammering.

"This the spot to go to New York?"

"OK I'll get it, is that all?"

"Cold enough."

"I got it, thought I lost it."

"It's full today."

"Excuse me."

"No problem."

"Let me move this, ok."

"I"ll be on time today, no traffic, just like yesterday, roads are empty. Oh I spoke too soon. We'll see, it is what it is. Ok, later."

"One person can keep an entire bus awake, just want a little peace and quiet."

"Why?"

"Another day."

"Have a good one."

"It's stuck, there I got it."

"Wish I was anywhere but here."

"Heard that."

"You can reach it."

"See ya on the way home."

"Ok."

+ Traitor to the ACF

I'm on the Academy bus leaving Port Authority with the terminus being Atlantic City. Nicer seats but a very volatile ridership. Driver just came over the PA system hollering how he has the right to drop anyone off at anytime for "foolish behavior" the state troopers will pick you up and you find your own way home with no ticket refund. Hidden cameras on the bus to document aforementioned foolish behavior and or smoking.

Welcome to Jersey Bitches.

+ Ordinary, Run of the Mill, Average

This morning's roll towards the big city is incredibly unremarkable. The dull droning of rubber rolling on road, clicking off mile after mile, whittling down the beginning sum of 50. The ACF mental odometer counts backwards from fifty to zero miles twice daily. Distance is the constant, time is the big variable you learn to despise.

An amazing burning orange and purple sunrise is the only thing of note. Today is one of those rides that stack up and blur into the cumulative of the year and a half I've been doing this.

Staring down the barrel of a three day weekend, that is the big payoff of this mornings ride. Viva dia de presidente.

+ New Sherrif of the ACF

The new man at the helm of the morning Chariot's ride is M. Jackson. Have no verification as of yet if the "M" stands for Michael or not. He is only the 2nd driver to proudly display his engraved nameplate above his throne of control. MJ is all business, no small talk with passengers, just straight ahead driving. He drives with an intense sense of purpose and duty to "keep to schedule" and he does. MJ has avoided a few major traffic jams with his clairvoyant hwy reading skills.

Only down side is MJ is so by the book that he called me out on trying to pass him an out of date ticket, no Driver ever cared in the past, but I got popped and denied entry to the ACF, and had to go buy another ticket and take the next bus half an hour later. I was pissed, but his schedule keeping skills far out weigh my infraction.

One day I must ask him to moon-walk.

- ACF Warriors Attack & Loot.

We are three heavily armed assault vehicles each carrying a payload of 55 highly trained money looting warriors. As the three Ass Chariots approach the New fortress of York, the warriors each ready themselves in their own quiet way. Some silently contemplate the early morning assault while others review the days objective on laptops, some joke and nervously play off the official directive, but most of us listen to our own soundtrack on our iPods to distract our thoughts from the inevitable.

This convoy of warriors never has the element of surprise on it's side, just the ruthless cunning of each individuals mission. Go in spend as little time as possible use our razor sharp skills to extract as much loot from the NYC, and get back to our base of operation as quick as possible, only to repeat the mission 5 times a week.

Our underwater assault is drawing closer, the warriors all double check their various specialized weaponry. The sounds of sharp clicks and rustling of the final check of arms before we disembark for the daily mission.

Semper Fi, loot or die my brave ass chariot warriors.

- Re-connects

Jumping on the 9pm ACF with a belly full of quality pork chop, fried oysters and a few or more stella artois in me. Ah that be gastrointestinal bliss. Met two of my best compadre's Billy D & Jimmy Mc in the LES at Schillers for some old time lie swapping.

Need to make more of a habit of the above. It was a rude wake up call this evening of how unstable the world is today. Tales of close friends getting pink slips for NOT the regular reasons.

Knock wood. Rolling home westward to the land of Jersey. Feeling a wee bit sappy and missing my LIW & EWR. They are both what makes humping back and forth to the big city all worth it.

Good night, keep the few that matter close. Adios, Be Are Why.

+ Thank You WPA & FDR.

Every day the Ass Chariot of Fire slinks down it's slithery hole under the Hudson river, to and from NYC. The Lincoln tunnel was an unnecessary public works luxury when FDR OK'd it being built. The down and out dudes of depressionville kept food on the table by digging a twisting tunnel under a river.

Thanks.

I wonder what perceived luxuries will be built, invented this go round?

+ Front Row Seat

This morning I'm sitting in the front seat of the chariot. Never really thought about it but no seat belt up high, no front hood. This thing really does feel like a rolling coffin. When I ride my motorcycle on a major interstate at 70+ mph I feel very much more in control of my safety. If we were ever to have an accident where we hit anything with the front end of the bus, the first two passengers would be flying superman style out the windshield.

I"ll try and relax now and close my eyes and dream how amazing the 61 points Kobe scored last night to take the record of most points scored by anyone in a game at the garden, go Lakers.

+ Out of Context.

The weekend. Usually your time, reminders of the weekly grind are rarely welcomed, especially your commuting drudgery.

Saturday night doing the classic american dinner and movie date night, unimaginative yes, but always relaxing and satisfying. Just after we pay for our movie ticket and trying to figure out how I'm going to spend my $20 bucks on popcorn and fizzy drinks I see it. The visual trigger that takes me back to the lumpy-assed seat I am currently occupying. A smiling fellow commuter waves and says "hey" I am on my time, not ass chariot time. The duration of the movie Milk I have friendly commuter guy on Saturday night starring at the back of my head.

The movie was excellent at capturing that crazy portion of history in california.

@ Two Wheeled Ass Chariots

This is a shameless personal fantasy of mine. I have always wanted to ride this race on two wheels since I was in grade school.

@ Auto Asphyxiation.

The diesel fumes leaking from my beloved chariot is the perfect aid in catching up on a little extra sleep. I inhale a few extra deep cleansing breaths and I fall effortlessly into snoozeville. A better sleep remedy than any of the other NJ legally manufactured pharmaceuticals, like lunesta or ambien.

It makes your eyes burn a little, but once you're asleep the watery eyes side effect is no problem. Other passengers have been complaining to the driver but the sleepy smoke still fills the interior just enough to keep all us natives from attempting any sort of rolling coup de te. Yup, the classic power struggle in the tiny microcosm of the citizen's of the ass chariot of fire.

Back to visit the sandman from Newark to Port Authority. Clutching my pillow tight exit light, enter night.

@ Siamese Commuter Day.

Shoulder, elbow, hip and knee making enough friction between me and my seatmate to start a fire. My ankle is the only point on my right side that is not rubbing my new friend. When I wiggle my toes on my right foot it triggers movement and re-adjustments from my Siamese twin, it' kinda fun having the remote control of a complete stranger with the wiggling of a big toe. Oh the immense power I wield, I must make sure I do not become corrupted with such power.

I am Smitten.

@ 1969/1970 NYC Sports

I learned tonight while standing in line for my 9pm Chariot of Ass Fire that 69/70 was NYC's year. This only validated by two very drunk gentlemen and one deaf mute, good enough sources for me.

The two drunk dudes were going on and on how that was THE season for the NYC. The Deaf Mute Dude was scribbling like a mad man on pizza napkins in agreement with said aforementioned drunkards.

-Jets won the Superbowl with Bdwy Joe Namath at the helm.
- The Mets won the world series.
-The Knicks won the NBA Championship with Clyde the Glide Frazier (the best shoe Puma ever made)

The Scribbler scrawls out " what about hockey" the two drunk guys yell at the deaf guy " Hockey is for white fags". Deaf guy looks puzzled. He's not quite understanding the yelling.

As not much of a sports fan I learned a heap this evening.

Oh yeah and Jimi played The Garden.

@ Apnea Man

2nd day in a row of riding the morning chariot to work with Apnea Man two rows behind me. He's has to be on the north side of 300lbs, he's dressed like a 1950's business man and snores louder than any human I have ever heard. Guttural throat chortelings like something prehistoric. It's very wet sounding and has no particular rhythm would allow you to ignore it. Yesterday he snored all the way into Port Authority and when we stopped and the other 54 passenger got up and left the bus, Apnea Man had not budged an inch, still making those sloppy wet sounding gurgles.

@ Cold

Waiting for less than 5 minutes for the morning bus in the Panther Valley 7-Eleven parking lot in 1 degree weather. One, uno this a record for me so far. We have the remainder of January and all of February to possibly dip into the negative numbers. My toes are still tingling with cold.

@ Blue Collar Express

On the 3pm bus heading to Jersey. First time riding this early bus, a very different crowd 80% union crowd, just finished hearing a story of what it's like hanging drywall on the 30th floor with no outside walls or windows in 20 degree weather with it snowing.

I can't complain when all I do is bang on a keyboard and mouse.

Oh yeah. the Plane that crashed into the Hudson happened as I was going through the tunnel, 110 feet of water between me and the belly flopping airliner.

@ It's Over.

For the past two months the going to work morning chariot has been half full. I never had to share a seat and sit next to anyone, it was commuter's nirvana. Well I guess the bean counters at Martz Bus Lines finally caught wind and re-jiggered the routes.

The morning Chariot now arrives 5 minutes earlier and packed to the gills with eager, snoring slobs trying to to make a buck in NYC. Now I have my original reason to whine and winge about my current seat mate with his legs spread so wide he keeps rubbing my thigh non stop with his knee, as I only have one butt cheek on the wore out cushion of a seat and the other levitating in the aisle. This must be some sort of retarded yoga pose people pay good money to endure. "Ass Chariot Warrior" I could just see some self righteous yogi wannabe instructing the class of lemmings, "now just get in touch with your inner douchiness" and you will achieve inner peace for $20 dollars per 45 minute class of kundillini, ashatanga bikram, bullsh*t.

@ A Tidy Warm Bed for the Disheveled.

9pm Ass Chariot of Fire. Eating a slice in the deli and watching the church homeless group scooping up the the stankiest dudes they can find in Port Authority. What must be the visual criteria that they choose to determine if you need a warm free bed in Manhattan for the night? What if you were a tidy homeless person? Would you be passed over and have to sleep on the street and risk never waking up for being frozen solid.

I guess you need to be outfitted in the correct wardrobe to score the free bed. I'm just being a whiney commuter, cuz I'm tired and sleepy. Sleep tight my un-hygenic compadres.

painting credit: Dan Gheno