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BUT, given my prediliction for tardiness, bad train luck and neurotic nature, it should also come as no surprise that I missed the whole damn show. That's right, instead of sitting at a fashion show with a full bar, I sat on a train* with no power while the conductors muttered to each other, having no idea that they were pressing the intercom button.
"Where the hell are the mechanics?"
"Christ, we'd be better off without them."
THAT, SIR, IS NOT VERY REASSURING. I HOPE YOU GET EATEN FIRST.
At least I looked nice.
|This is me dressing practically, for the weather.**|
Of course, I wasn't psycho killed. In fact, I made friends with the fellows sitting next to me and we had a grand old time reciting Richard Pryor standup bits.
So I guess the moral of the story is:
Brush up on your standup comedians because you never know when you'll be stuck on a train s and need to distract yourself from the psycho killers coming on board.
*A train with NO bar car, by the way.
**I am many things. A sensible dress is not, and will never be, one of them. Sorry, Dad.