I heart the subway

When I first moved here (read: A period of time that started when I put the moving truck in park and ended about a day ago) I thought of the subway system as this city's shiv. Everything seems normal. Nothing going on. WHAM! Hidden blade in your gut. Hand covered in blood. Face torqued in agony. WHY!?! OH, WHY ME!??

Then, I started wrapping my mind around it (read: I started looking at maps and - much more importantly - listening to a certain someone.) Now, I kind of dig the subway. Sure, nothing I can think of is more miserable than realizing you've been sweating on your walk when you are greeted with an inferno of still, warm, thick, immobile air 60 feet below the surface of God's earth. Is it too late for that protective sheath of deodorant? I've even started liking the little rats. I root for them in their battle against the football sized ones. I know they're doomed. Like Colt McCoy. But that's what makes sports fun.

But, my favorite thing about the subway? Never in my life have I been so sure I'm on a hidden camera show. Also? I realize representative democracy works. I never have to wonder why we have so many freaks in Congress. We, the voting public, are just doing our jobs.

“In your country club, your church and business, about 15 percent of the people are screwballs, lightweights and boobs and you would not want those people unrepresented in Congress." -- Former Wyoming Sen. Alan K. Simpson, who - CLEARLY - never rode the subway enough, based on those numbers.