Tonight I was standing on a severely slow-moving train, lugging the
two freaking tons twenty-pound mini step-machine that I'd ordered from Amazon, when two pimply-faced teenagers got on and immediately started making out. Unfortunately, it wasn't making out of the French kind - which is mostly silent (if also completely inappropriate for a train during rush hour). No, it was gross smacking. Every five seconds the boy would kiss the girl and their lips would make the loudest, most obnoxious noise. I tried to ignore it, but on a train full of silent and cranky people each smack was a disgusting, blood-curdling, sonic boom.
I have no patience for that sort of thing. Which is why I'm thankful that we have actual laws against knocking the ever-loving shit out of people. Because if there were no such laws I would have cracked their heads together like the Kerbangers I adored as a kid while shouting, "Do your parents know what you're doing? Do they? Huh?
Do they?!"
Sigh. I appreciate love. I
love love. But people should really keep their foul love at home, the backseats of cars or in bars full of drunk people where it belongs.
4 comments:
"Kerbangers I adored as a kid"
We called them "Klackers" and I always say "hell yeah," to PDA, but I'm preverted (sic) like that.
We have a bench across the street on the parkway we call the "make out bench". I don't know what it is about that location, but teens and the old will make out there at all times of day.
It's pretty disgusting.
Lately, I've been finding myself on trains with assholes who like to crack and snap their gum every 5 seconds. I've actually had long, drawn-out fantasies about killing them in various, grisly ways, which is the only thing that even slightly tunes their annoying noise out.
WP, I say no to PDA unless it's me because I'm bitchy like that. :)
Cat, I love how you wrote "the old". For some reason that totally tickled me. And yes, it's disgusting. Someone should leave a sign on that bench that says "get a room".
Beckeye, you can pretty much find every disgusting habit present and accounted for on a New York subway. But at least we have our malevolent fantasies to keep us company.
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