Meth is bad. MmmKuey?

Public transit used to terrify me. When I first moved to NYC, I was terrified to ride the subways after dark. And the busses? I was afraid to ride those during the day. In Los Angeles public transit is scary. It's filthy, it's unpredictable, it's full of barefooted people with vomit down their shirts who foam at the mouth while they talk to the empty seat next to them. I thought it would be that way in Manhattan too.

I'd only been in the city for about a week when I found myself needing to ride the subway after dark. It was ten p.m., pouring rain and there were no cabs anywhere, so I held my breath and prayed to God that I would make it home alive. I laugh when I think of that now because riding the subway and the busses has become so commonplace. They are clean (generally), they are reliable (usually) and the crazies keep to themselves (mostly).

A few weeks ago I left Adam's apartment a little later than usual. I usually leave his place around eleven or eleven-thirty, but this particular Sunday I didn't make it out his door until midnight. I didn't think anything of it - I've taken the train home after midnight a hundred times. Though, when I got to the train platform, I started to feel a little uneasy. The train was at the station, it's doors open, and every single car I walked past was empty. It's unusual to be the only person anywhere in New York, so I chalked my nervous feelings up to that. I'm just not used to being alone, I told myself. I found the middle car, the one that always has a conductor in it, and I sat down. I felt safer knowing there was a conductor just a few feet away from me, even if we were separated by a steel door. Just as the train was about to pull out, a man slipped through the closing doors. Despite the twenty degree weather, he was wearing sandals, jeans and a t-shirt. Instead of sitting down, he started pacing back and forth through the car, shaking his hands at his sides as if flinging water from them, shaking his head back and forth as if saying an adamant 'no'. And then he stopped, right in front of me.

"Excuse me, miss. Can you tell me how to get to Manhattan?" He was terribly underweight, his skin jaundiced, his cheeks pocked and hollow, his teeth - those that were left - rotting. His eyes looked like lit flames in his skull. He was standing too close to me. He was clearly very, very agitated.

I looked him right in his eyes because I'd recently read that you're less likely to be raped if you make eye contact with your assailant. Apparently, if they think you'll be able to pick them out of a line-up, they won't bother with you. But I wondered if that was the right protocol for possible knife-wielding maniacs.

"Just stay on this train. This is a Manhattan bound train." I said, trying to sound casual.

"Thank you, Ma'am. Would you happen to have a tobacco product? A cigarette? I prefer menthol. Menthol cigarettes."

"No, I'm sorry. I don't smoke."

"That's all right, miss. Thank you." And then he resumed his furious pacing.

Thirty seconds later he was standing in front of me again.

"Excuse me, Miss. Can you tell me how to get to Manhattan?"

I paused. I looked in his eyes. He seemed to have no recollection of having just asked me that exact question.

"This is a Manhattan bound train. You're on the right track."

"Thank you, Ma'am. Would you happen to have a tobacco product? A cigarette? I prefer menthol. Menthol cigarettes."

Seriously? Did we not just go over this?

"I'm sorry. I don't smoke."

"That's all right, miss. Thank you." And he resumed pacing.

Thirty seconds later: "Excuse me, Miss. Can you tell me how to get to Manhattan?"

OH MY GOD.

"You're headed there now."

"Thank you, Ma'am. Would you happen to have a tobacco product? A cigarette? I prefer menthol. Menthol cigarettes."

At this point, I was smothering a laugh. "I'm sorry. I don't smoke."
"That's all right, miss. Thank you."

When we hit the first stop I got off, walked over to the next car and got back on. Not because I was scared, but because I didn't think I'd be able to give him straight answers anymore.

"Do you happen to have a tobacco product? A cigarette?"

"No, sorry. The little green men stole them."

"Can you tell me how to get to Manhattan?"

"Manhattan? Didn't you hear? IT FELL IN THE HUDSON AND EVERYONE DROWNED."