Jim pwns an annoying woman’s cell phone on the train
Occurred: Spring 2006
It's completely dark. My mouth feels like it has been drinking Heinekens and smoking Dutch masters all night. I hear a strange sound coming from the ceiling, it sounds like my phone vibrating. I look at my alarm clock, its 10:43 a.m. Shit, I’m going to miss my train. I run upstairs immediately to find my cell phone ringing. I miss the call. I pick up my Treo and check the call log. I see one new text message and eight missed calls. 10:01, 10:02, 10:03, 10:04, 10:05, 10:06, 10:07, and 10:08, all from Amber. It's now 10:09. Panic subsides as I realize my alarm clock is set thirty minutes fast, I seem to forget this every morning. As my brain switches from full-blown sleep into mild cognition the night before slowly comes into focus.
After spending three days with virtually no sleep I was planning on spending Friday night at home resting up for Saturday. While lying in bed at 9 p.m. I heard my neighbors having a party next door. I decide to go over, say hi, smoke one blunt, and leave. Four blunts and five Heineken 22's later I wake up late in a confused stupor.
I look back at my phone. I’ve gotten eight calls and one text message within eight minutes. Good job Amber; she's learning.
I've been dating Amber on and off for about two months now. She's 5'1, dark hair, brown eyes, perfect body (skinny in the middle with a nice ass) and a very pretty face. A cup size tits, but hey no one is perfect. We met at a party at a very prestigious all girls’ school in upper Manhattan. She just graduated with a degree in neuroscience and is now studying for her MCATS. She's very intelligent. She's also a virgin, but we don't need to get into that now. She's too busy for a "real" relationship. (READ: She doesn't want to get dumped by yet another dude because she won't have sex.) This however; is not really a problem as she is never too busy for her weekend sabbatical to Brooklyn to give me oral pleasures. Amber is probably the finest piece of ass I've had in about six months so I am not complaining.
I'm pondering why I left my phone upstairs (not anywhere near my room) and on vibrate knowing that I had to wake up at 9 a.m. to do laundry and get a hair cut. I'm also pondering how the hell I heard it going off in the first place.
A few weeks back Amber was fully tanked in Manhattan and ready for a booty call. She was on her way over and I passed out at my apartment. She called from outside my building four or five times and I didn't wake up. She had to go back to Manhattan and wait in Penn station until 5 a.m. and then had her dad pick her up. Like I said, she's learning
I snap out of mild cognition and launch straight in manic mode. I have one hour and thirty-five minutes to buy some fresh white t-shirts, get a hair cut, shower, shave, find my phone charger, get my iPod, and make it to Penn station.
I attend to the first order of business for the day. I spark up a blunt roach and drink a red vitamin water, the one with Taurine in it. Taurine was first isolated from ox bile and is now the fifth main ingredient in Red Bull. It’s the chemical compound that you are just waiting to be banned by the FDA for causing cerebral palsy and cancer.
Now I have one hour and ten minutes to get to Penn station. Time to do a reality check. It takes forty minutes if I catch all the trains right to get to Penn station from my loft. This leaves me with thirty minutes to accomplish everything I need to do.
I call up Amber and tell her I'm up on my way. Amber is slightly concerned because she has already gotten on her train and has to meet me at the platform in Jamaica. If I miss my train she has no choice but to wait nine hours for the next one out east or just go home.
I spark up another roach; it's about half the size of an L. Nice. With fifteen minutes left, I prioritize. Shave? Nope. Get a fresh t-shirt? Nope. Get a haircut? Nope.
Okay Jim; you've put yourself in a B-game situation. No matter what happens tonight your appearance will be taking you down from the A game level. I can live with this because I still know I'm hooking up at the end of the night.
I shower quickly, put on clean jeans and the only clean shirt I have. The shirt is a loner from a friend and it's of Che Guevara. I don't know if you are familiar with this revolutionary, but the most significant thing he has achieved in his life has been creating a whole generation of dumb asses wearing his face on t-shirts. Why don't you five year SUNY liberal arts majors try reading a wikipedia entry sometime ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Che_Guevara ). Unless you are indeed a freedom fighter from South American, if I catch you wearing one of those shirts I'm going to spill my drink all over you. If you ask me why I did I'll say in my snootiest voice, "’Twas gravity, not me my friend". I'll repeat this process over and over again until they leave the bar / party. These kids are all pussies. Did I mention I can't go drinking anywhere near Bedford Ave off the L?
So I'm out the door and running. I hit the L train and I'm off. I'm not too concerned. The worst-case scenario is that I take the bus out east and ditch Amber. The only reason I’m rushing is that Amber is all about me and I'm about to kick it into overdrive. I hold the trump card that will take any stone prude bitch and transform her into sexual vixen; a weekend trip to "The Hamptons".
Let's be clear here for the vast majority of people not from the area. We don't call it "The Hamptons" There's East Hampton, Southampton, Bridgehampton, Sag Harbor, Montauk, Amagansett, Springs and North Sea. That's about it. "The Hamptons" is what you people call it, not us. Going clubbing in Hampton bays / West Hampton doesn't count as "The Hamptons" in my book. Sorry all you Gotti Boys wannabes, go back to Hempstead.
I suggested to Amber earlier that week that we go out to East Hampton and Sag Harbor on Saturday night. My friend was having a house party and my other friend was DJing at a club. She feigned disinterest at first to which I quickly counteracted.
The aim conversation:
Jim: do you wanna come out to east hampton on sat.
Amber: umm I dunno I have a lot of studying to do
Jim: well you should go out at least for one night, it is saturday
Amber: we will see
Let me translate this to Game Speak:
Jim: I'm offering you something I know you want badly
Amber: I'm very conservative Jim. I should stay at home and study for my MCATS.
Jim: Well you will get drunk and we can hook up, I know you love that
Amber: Okay I'm coming but I'm not going to tell you until the last minute.
Now I don't play that game. She has the control now. I bring out the big guns and take the offensive.
Jim: well you're definitely on the top of the list of people I want to hang out with this weekend, but there is a list.
Jim: im sorry, that was arrogant
(2 minutes of silence)
Amber: okay I definitely want to go
Translated again to Game speak:
Jim: I know you want to come out and party all weekend, but if you play any games I'll open up my Rolodex and replace you in thirty seconds.
Jim: I also know that's a very arrogant statement, but unfortunately for you its true.
Amber: I was just playing with you; of course I'm going
I’m trying to catch the 11:48am train. The big clock at Penn station says 11:46am. I have no cash or credit on me at all. I hit up the ATM in McDonalds and make it to the platform as the final bells are ringing. Damn I'm good.
I buy a train ticket to Speonk. I don't pay full price for train tickets. If they want to kick me off the train for staying on eight more stops than I'm suppose to they sure as hell can try.
I ask the conductor while making my change if I could have ten extra dollars back. He laughs and says if I asked again he would beat me up. I instantly think he's awesome. I turn to the hot girl I sat next to (you always sit down next to the hot girl in any situation where seating is involved) and tell her that this guy was going to beat me up and I needed her help. As she turns towards me I see a cold sore on her lip that could quite possibly be The Lost City of Puss and Mucus. She opened her mouth and started to say something. I instantly fall asleep.
Thirty minutes of beautiful sleep later I hit Jamaica station. Amber is waiting on the platform and she’s looking great. She's wearing her favorite tight jeans, some expensive top from a store I've never been inside and her black thong. Sweet.
We kiss hello and I quickly take her up and down half the train pushing people over until I find an empty double seat. For those of you unfamiliar with the Long Island Rail Road at the front and back of every car there are seats that face each other designed to sit four people. Ideally they fit two people with an uber amount of legroom. I manage to get us a double seat and we sit down. Amber is already starting to rub on my thigh. Nice. I ask her if she minds if I fall asleep (we have a three hour train ride a head of us) and she doesn't care.
Five minutes into REM sleep and it happens. I hear a voice, "Ohh my gawd you and Michael should totally have another baaaaaby. It would be soooo cute"
*Silence*
I hear the voice again, “But you know I can't have babies since the chemo, well I haven't tried but who knows"
I open my eyes and look to my right. I see a woman in her mid fifties. She is wearing….alright I had to avert my eyes from anything but her face. Don't dress like that when you get that old, it's not fair to those of us who still have the majority of our sensory inputs working. I'll leave it to your imagination. She's speaking very loudly on her cell phone.
When I was younger my mother would constantly speak in a loud half Jewish, half Long Island, half wasp accent. Yes I know that's 150%, but this is my point. By combining all these voices together a person can speak at volumes that in most countries (at least the cool ones) will get you shot on sight. This shrilly nasally condescending voice will annoy anyone, but being treated with this form of physiological abuse since birth I have developed a certain hatred for it that can only be described as pathological. The woman sitting next me had taken this voice to a whole new level.
Jim, you can deal with this, just go back to sleep. How long can she stay on the phone?
Ten minutes later her conversation about the weather and her infertile womb of doom ends. Peace. Serenity. I place my hand on Amber's leg stroke it a little and begin to fall back asleep.
"Hiiii Sandy hooow are you?"
*Silence*
"Yeah I just got back from Flaaaaaarida, I'm on my cell on the way to the Haaaaaaamptons"
She then begins to reiterate the exact same story she told on her last call. This is the moment in the story where I lose it. I immediately sit straight up and begin to ponder how I am going to make this woman stop talking.
My friends and I have an ongoing joke whenever we are out east. Every year you see the same thing. Tourists either from NYC or Jersey walking around with their bags full of eighty dollar t-shirts and six hundred dollar sun dresses (thanks for keeping us rich) talking on their cell phones. They always have the same voice like they are direct descendants of the May Flower but have vibrating dildos stuck up their asses. They always say the same thing, "I'm on my cell phone, yeah in the Haaaaamppptons (that's where the dildo really starts buzzing)". I wish I could describe the sound better, its just one of those things you have to witness for yourself.
I'm only half way down Long Island and I realize that I'm stuck sitting next to this woman for at least another hour half. Action needs to be taken. I could move seats but there is no way I am going to pussy out in front of this girl who I'm currently running some serious B minus game on.
The first thought that goes into my mind is throwing her purse and carry on bag off at the next stop. Logic kicks in; bad move Jim. What happens if the conductor sees? I'd be kicked off the train and stranded in butt fuck nowhere Long Island.
Another thought comes. Take her purse and throw it down the isle. She'll get the idea. If she complains I can just deny it. Wait no, a passenger could rat on me.
I decide on a mild offense. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she doesn't know how annoying she is.
Amber senses I am agitated and asks if we should move cars. I tell her its fine and that I just need to make a call. I take out my cell phone and put it up to my ear. In my loudest most pompous voice I begin, "HIIIIII yeah I'm on my CELL PHONE on the TRAIN! I'm going to the HAAAAMPPPTONS. I like taking about PERSONAL things on my phone REAL LOUD so I can annoy EVERYONE on the train!"
The woman doesn't break her stride and continues to talk. At this point most of the other passengers near us have turned around and start paying attention to the situation. I now have an audience.
Amber, even though not knowing me for too long, knows that something bad is going to happen. She suggests we immediately move and actually stands up. I sit her back down and tell her that I'm fine.
I shift slightly to my right to face this woman. She is also in a double seat across the isle facing me, but turned towards the window. I decide it's time for a staring contest. I settle myself in my seat and stare directly at her.
I should probably give you a few details about myself. I'm 6'1 and about 200 lbs. Today I'm wearing polo jeans, 35th anniversary edition Adidas superstars, the Che Guevara t-shirt (which was thrown away later that night after much drinking), a brown corduroy blazer and a pair of Burberry Aviators. I am also extremely unshaven and my hair is not brushed. I looked like a cross between a white Kayne West and a serial killer.
Five minutes into the staring contest she glances quickly at me and then back to the window. I smell fear. She's talking on the phone about how she's having a hard time getting disability because she didn't make enough money when she worked. I'm thinking to myself about various methods of suicide that would be more fun then listening to her. I tell Amber (rather loudly), "I'd rather mainline Drano then listen to her voice for one more second."
The woman ignores me, "Yeah I just got back from Flaaaaaahrida, I'm going to my friends birthday in the Haaaamptons"
That's it. You are not leaving here un-flamed bitch. How can you do this? How can you be so inconsiderate? Some of us have been up all night drinking and doing drugs. Have you no decency?
I remain silent and don't break my stare. Five minutes later she gets off the phone. The first thing she does is turn directly to me and begins to say, "I'm sorry". She makes it to "I'm sor" before I cut her off, "Listen alright, I'd rather rip out my ear drums and sell them on eBay then listen to your voice for one more minute"
I feel the whole train shift its attention towards me. All right Jim, decent but not a great punch line, you got to roll with it.
She retorts with a half huff and manages to get out "What did you . . ." before I interrupt her again. Speaking very slowly and loud I put emphasis on each syllable like I was a sixty year old white woman telling a migrant working how to weed her Azaleas, "I WOULD RATHER RIP OUT MY EAR DRUMS AND SELL THEM ON EBAY THEN LISTEN TO YOUR VOICE FOR ONE MORE MINUTE."
She’s flabbergasted. She was ready to slowly march the Phalanx forward with an apology knowing that if charged in I would get impaled on her pikes. Unfortunately for her, my cavalry flanked her defenses and destroyed any retort she had left.
Before she has the chance to respond I pick up my cell phone. Speaking very loudly I let loose, "I'M ON THE TRAIN AND I'M GOING TO THE HAMPTONS AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
I've decided the battle is won. I sit down and close my eyes.
She finally manages a response, "ASSHOLE!" She realizes everyone within earshot is staring at her. She tries to defend herself, "Asshole I live in ____ Hampton."
I think to myself, bitch I'm ____ Hampton High School class of ****. I've lived here for years and have never seen you once.
She starts in on something else when a passenger behind her interrupts, "Excuse me Miss. He could have said it a little better (acknowledging me), but he's right. Half the train can hear your conversation and it's very annoying." The annoying woman now gets quiet.
All is well and I start to fall back asleep. The annoying woman decides that my victory is indeed short lived and she can still win the war. She gets out her phone and starts going down her contact list while staring at me. I'm half awake with my eyes half closed. She must have run out of friends that didn't want to hear about her problems for the 1000 th time because it takes her a while to find someone to call. She finally makes a call and gets someone’s voicemail, "Hi Jack, just seeing how the kids are, I'm on my phone on the train, on my way to the Haaaaaamptons call me back at 917-555-5555". This of course, is a huge tactical error on her part.
My brain snaps on to full capacity for the first time that day. I immediately get out my Treo and add her number into my contacts as "Annoying woman".
You want to play bitch. We can play. You thought the cavalry was bad, I'm sending in the artillery to take you off the map.
She starts looking for another number to in her phone to dial. My hands began to shake from the shear amount of joy I'm about to experience. Using my custom AIM (AOL Instant Massager) client I sign into the AIM network with an anonymous screen name. I add +19175555555 to my buddy list. I send her one IM to see if her provider has setup an SMS gateway.
Fifteen seconds later her phone beeps. At this point I have won. There is nothing she can do short of breaking my thumbs in the next thirty seconds that will prevent what is going to happen. She checks the first text message and looks slightly confused but she continues to look for people to call. She is staring at me the whole time this is going on. I am very discreetly typing into my phone that is hidden in my jacket sleeve.
I prep the attack. One thousand text messages are about to be sent to her phone. I fill the content as "…………………". It’s not very amusing but it will do the job. My heart is pumping at a ridiculous rate and I can feel pure pleasure pulsing through my veins. I click send. Her phone beeps. Her phone beeps again. Her phone beeps a third time. Her phone stops beeping. She looks at her phone puzzled and mashes the keypad a few times before putting it into her purse. I assume the closest tower has temporarily kicked her off the network. Who knows, who cares? No more phone calls.
Amber sits in awe of my masterful tactics. All is well. I sleep soundly until we get to ____ Hampton. I dream of french toast and all the debauchery that will transpire over the next twenty hours. Maybe I'll even drunk dial someone later tonight, if her phone decides to turn back on.