Saturday, June 24, 2006

Things I Hate #126: Don't talk to me during my morning commute

There are few moments in my day which I consider sacred; moments that I don't want to be disturbed. Oddly enough all of these three moments occur in the morning, within about an hour of each other:

1) thinking/singing in the shower
2) the first 10 minutes in the morning that I sit at work
3) my commute to work

I ordered the three based on the ease of preserving serenity. The first two can almost be fully determined by my actions alone. The shower is easy since no one has ever been in there with me, and if there was someone I would imagine that I probably wouldn't mind. As far as #2, please let me sit in peace when I get into work. Let me check my email and get myself sorted out before diving into work. But that being said peace and quiet at work can be managed by simply showing up early to work. But #3 that's a hard one.

But if there's one thing I can't stand it's unwanted people seeing me on the train in the morning commute to work and talking incessantly during my beloved music listening time. Furthermore some people insist on talking about work, often times the same people who think that work elevators make excellent impromptu meeting spots ("Things I Hate #125: Elevator Chatter," 3/8/06).

For the love of god, if you see me on a train with my headphones on or trying to get an extra 10minutes of sleep while standing up and slouched against the train door, please let me be. I look like a mess for a reason. It's all a part of the master plan. Don't disturb a genius....All of which brings me to my neighbor. My Indian neighbor unfortunately leaves for work the same time I do and takes the same train. It has come to the point that I sprint out my front door and take the stairs, if i think he's leaving for work at th sametime the elevator, in the hopes of avoiding contact.

Extreme? Maybe. Necessary? Well, I'll let you be the judge For some reason, the sight of a sleep-deprived Indian, who is quite dashing may I add, is a sign to this foolio desi neighbor that I want to spend the next 30 minutes of my lifetalking about the state of finance markets and receiving an update on his baby girl's growth. This, by the way, is the same baby who was told by satan-mother to call me "uncle," which you'll recall I mentioned last week. This is an evil evil family. Bakri chods. Any proper human knows that every minute wasted in the morning is equivalent to 2 minutes at night time.... much the same way that the joy of an extra 10 minutes of sleep in the morning is only matched by sleeping an hour earlier at night time. All time is not equal. Therefore 30 minute discussion with bakri chod neighbor is akin to wasting over 7.5 normal hours.

That being said, little do they know but I already have started taking my revenge on them. Let's just say that I'm very much aware of the fact that they take a walk along the waterfront every night with their baby stroller. I'm not saying anything but a certain someone (hint hint, nudge nudge) has spotted them within the firing range of his/my Super Soaker and has, as we say in the biz, "made it rain."

Creedence Clearwater Revival once asked "I wannaaa know, have you ever seen the rain," and the answer in this case is a resounding yes, it happens nightly in front of the 5th floor of a certain apartment building.

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