Talk About A Shitty Commute

I step on the Uptown 6 train after work this morning to find a man taking a shit in the train car. Yes folks, the guy was taking a dump on the train and had the nerve to get mad at us for interrupting him while he was pooping. As if. We promptly left him to his shitting and moved into the next car. The rest of the ride was basically a comedy skit made up of a steady stream of commuters who got on the shitty car and made a bee-line to the now full next car. It reminded me of the chase scenes in Benny Hill. All we needed to hear was Boots Randolph's Yakety Sax over the loud speakers.

What I find curious is that a rider who got on later  blamed the MTA for their shitty service. As much as I have had my issues with the MTA, I can't blame them for this shitshow. You never know when someone is just going to pop a squat and drop a duece on the train. The dude did so after the train left the Brooklyn Bridge station.

I really feel sorry for the person who has to clean that shit up. My sympathies to you whomever you may be. That is definitely NOT in the job description.

FH

Here's a little travel music for your commutes. Enjoy ;)

A Piece of Advice On Dealing with Baby Mommas

If you brothers (or sisters) out there happen to have more than two baby mommas allow me to give you one piece of friendly advice: Have separate places where you take each baby momma. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE TAKE BOTH (OR ANY COMBINATION OF BABY MOMMAS IF MORE THAN TWO) TO THE SAME BAR. Sorry for the caps folks but I just wanted anyone reading this to realize that this was an important point. Why do I mention this? Well, we were faced with good old fashioned baby momma drama at the BSB.

It started before I arrived to work where baby daddy was at the bar with who I believe is baby momma #1. Now what had happened was, as they are shooting pool, baby momma #2 rolls up with the babies in the car. Comes into the bar and has words with both baby daddy and baby momma #1. Quite the predicament baby daddy finds himself in.

Baby momma #2 storms out with baby daddy in tow threatening a whole slew of things. Baby daddy was frozen in what to do. He decided to leave with baby momma #2. Now that might have been the right decision for him but not for us. For by making his decision to leave with baby momma #2, he left a seething baby momma #1 for us to deal with at the bar.

Now I can't blame the woman for being irate. But instead of logically focusing her rage on the rightfully parties, she chose to do against us. She vented attitude, insults, breaking a glass and when she was told to leave by my doorman she started to get physical by slapping his chest, arms and if she could probably his face. Before I go any further, allow me to shed some light on the issues doormen/bouncers face.

If this was a guy we were dealing with, things would have been resolved in a faster manner. As much as we try not to have situations get physical, it happens. If given on other choice, we would just physically remove a man from the premises. Not so with a woman. Under no circumstance do we try to touch a woman to have her leave the bar. Now my stand-by is to take a woman's purse and/or bag and take it outside the bar. No woman I know would ever leave her purse behind purposely. This is where this situation differed from others. If this woman was willing to get physical with a bouncer who's to say she would get worse if he grabbed her bag. Who knows if she has a weapon in it. Its easier to let time go by and have the person walk out on their own than to physically have to do so. I always shake my head when people like to insult us with "why don't you get a real job". People would shit in their pants if they had to deal with half the shit bar people deal with on a nightly basis. But I digress

After a period of time she makes her way to the front to order a drink. She's been cut off. She asks why and I patiently continue to tell her why. Finally the final straw came when she started insulting my bartender and tried to grab a glass to potentially throw at someone on my staff. We nudged her outside and closed the door on her with me standing in the front dealing with her incoherent ramblings and insults mixed in compliments on how cute I was. I don't know whether she was drunk, high or both but she was both laughable and pitiful. Finally after some more time of doing that, she stalked off into the night. Luckily we didn't see or hear from her again.

What a way to start a Saturday night. It wasn't even 8:30pm when she left. Nights like these make me want to just say fuck it. I'm done.

FH

The Stone Faced Señora on the Train

On comes this stone faced señora on the train, mean mugging each and every passenger (including your humble narrator). Now at 5am, the train is a very precarious blend of nightwalkers making their way home after a long night of work or play and those early rising daywalkers who are heading to work. And then there is the stone faced señora.

Now I can admit that I often find myself gritting my teeth at the racket on the train in the late/early hours. That's why I have my big headphones to block out undesirable noises. But back to my aggro amiga "Cara de Piedra Duran".

Like I said earlier, she stalks onto the train, mean mugs everyone and sits down with a look on her face as if she ate glass with nails smothered in battery acid and passed them while tearing her sphincter and surrounding hemmorhoids. Yeah, that's how she looked. But she gets worse.

This is the time of the day where people are going to work all nice and chipper after a good night's rest and a piping hot cup of tea, while listening to the birds outside their window sing them a beautiful aria to start the day. In having done so, they are more than willing to have a lively and spirited conversation on the good old early morning Iron Horse. Well, my aggro amiga did not like it in the least. Though she didn't say anything to the ladies who were talking at a reasonable volume, she kept sucking her teeth (making a louder noise than the women) and covering her ears with her fists while rocking back and forth to block out the apparently offensive noise. Luckily for all involved, including myself, the conversing chicas got off on 68th Street and our stone faced señora went back to mean mugging yours truly. I thought she was going to go nuclear while riding my favorite filly Iron Horse #6.

Luckily for me, Medusa's power of turning flesh to stone did not have an effect on me. She eventually stomped off the train a few stops later to grace others with her sunshine of a personality. And I say that I'm a curmudgeon.

Sweet dreams buttercup unless you also scare those away as well with your mean mug. Talk about "Frau Blucher".

FH

In Chicago and Illinois Part I

One way to describe this trip is that size does matter. Granted that the reason we were going to Chicago was for G-Fest XX that celebrated everything that was Godzilla and Kaiju related. But before I go into that, I wanted to go back to he size thing. No, I'm not talking about THAT (this is a PG post folks). Allow me to elaborate.

We flew out of LaGuardia airport on the Delta Shuttle to Chi-Town and for these short flights they utilize smaller "shuttle" planes which hold roughly 70 passengers. Since I sat with my son, I didn't feel cramped in my seat (which I usually find myself feeling on most planes). It was at the bathroom where I felt the size crunch. Lets put it this way, I must have felt like the Big Show from the WWE feels in ordinary bathrooms. My head made contact with the ceiling of the bathroom while the door shut directly on my back. I just had enough wiggle room to use the facilities and to turn around to lock and open the door. Consider that I'm a decent sized man at 6'1" and 270lbs but even there I found myself compressed in the cramped commode. I made sure to use the bathroom on the plane just once. LOL.

After we arrived at O'Hare Airport, we took the shuttle bus from the airport to Enterprise Rent-A-Car where again I was met with a size challenge. My last rental from Enterprise was a Volkswagen Beetle which I drove from Monterrey to San Francisco in 2011. I absolutely loved it. Again I decided to go with a compact car and this time I was given the Fiat 500c. It is a nice little car. I have no complaints on how it drove. Very smooth on the road and easy to handle. The issue for me was that once I got in (and stopped banging my knees) there was not much headroom. Now, I wasn't bad as Bob Parr aka Mr. Incredible in his little car but again as with the bathroom on the plane, there wasn't much wiggle room. It was a useful little car while I rented it but I couldn't think of owning one for myself.

After getting lost for a while in and around Rosemont, Illinois and finally finding the hotel, we checked into our room. We decided to relax for a bit before the double feature at The Pickwick Theater in Park Ridge, Illinois. Now why was I surprised when I turned the TV on and saw that they were playing a Japanese monster movie. I should have known better. Actually, the convention had a whole slate of movies, documentaries and interviews from prior conventions playing throughout the convention on channel 2. It was a very nice touch. On to the theater we went.

Park Ridge was about five miles or so from our hotel and we found ourselves in a small town which that "Main Street" feel you tend to see in the movies. There was a outdoor festival going on called A Taste of Park Ridge where a band played and food was served in a nice park next to the City Hall. I have to say that I felt a little jealous of this. you just don't see events like these in the Bronx. It reminded me of the old 14th Street Fair in Astoria from my youth and the feasts that are still done on Ditmars Blvd. before I get lost on memory lane, let me get back to Park Ridge.

We parked and stopped off at the Pickwick Restaurant which is located next to the theater. I felt as if I not only left NYC but I also went back in time. The restaurant evoked the feel of 1950's and 1960's diner. The only thing missing was the personal jukeboxes on the tables. The service was super friendly and you can tell that the same clientele went to the restaurant often since the staff referred to the majority of the customers by their first name.

Taken by RUSSELL B. PHILLIPS courtesy of http://www.anatomicallycorrect.org/alltheworldsastage.htm

Now as you can see above, the exterior the Pickwick is an old school theater. The theater looked like it was ripped out from a book of old Chicago-area movie houses. It was old school down to the machine that spit out the ticket stubs, the prices for a regular movie (see below) AND the small concession area. We were definitely NOT in New York City folks.

Luckily for me that's where the old school feel ended. The theater of the Pickwick that was showing the movies had been recently renovated. They installed a huge digital screen and these massive cushioned rocking theater seats. I was definitely happy about that. I was dreading having to spend the better part of 7-hours seated in cramped theater seats.

Oh, and the movies we saw? Well the double feature had Gamera vs. Gyaos and The X From Outer Space (which surprisingly is a Criterion Collection movie) and at the midnight showing was Pacific Rim which you need to see ASAP if you're an fan of action flicks.

By the time we left the theater at 2:20am and got back to the hotel it was close to 3am. We took ourselves to bed knowing that we needed to be up early for the registration of the G-Fest XX Convention. Little that I know I would be even more tired after day two. :)

FH

Why

Things that happen in daily life often make you ask the question: "Why?" Now add a situation like the recent bombing of the Boston Marathon and the subsequent chaos that followed during the days after and the question "Why?" looms even larger.

For example, why did two young brothers allegedly do what they did. Why would these brothers lash out in a mode of terror when it seemed to many that knew them that they were enjoying the best of what the American Dream was providing them. These were two young men with apparent goals and aspirations  So the question "Why?" continues to loom large. We have yet to hear their side. With the death of the older brother, that question cannot be answered by him not can it be answered by the younger brother since he is on the lam.

Why the Boston Marathon. What statement did placing those bombs there want to be said. Why the senseless injuries, maimings, dismemberments, and deaths to two adults in the approaching the prime of their lives and a young boy of 8-years of age who never got the chance to live his life. Add to that the 26-year old police officer who was killed in the line of duty on the campus of M.I.T. Another person senselessly killed.

As a father of two children I empathize with all of the parents involved. One never wants to hear about one of your children being hurt, maimed, dismembered or killed. The thought is unimaginable. The feelings that these parents are experiencing is something that I hope to never feel. Those families will never be the same.

On the other side you have the father of the two suspects who feels as if his sons are innocent. How can a parent not empathize with his pain. Who wants to wake up to the news that their two sons are capable of undertaking such atrocities. No one wants to believe that of their babies. No matter how old they (and we) are, they will always be babies to us. Not only that but regardless of guilt, no parent wants to hear via TV that their son was killed by a combination of bullet fire and being run over by their fleeing younger son.

That family is torn asunder with relatives taking to the air talking about innocence, guilt, shame, embarrassment  astonishment and forgiveness among the many emotions that are being displayed. Taking different sides that undoubtedly will destroy familial bonds. That family will never be the same.
The family of missing the Brown University student whose name was mentioned on a police scanner since going missing in March went from jubiliation of their missing relative being found to unimaginable horror that he would be capable of these crimes to despondency that he was not the person being chased and was still missing. That family will not be the same.

The towns that are currently on lockdown will also never be the same. Any sound during the night reminiscent of gunfire will trigger memories of last night's events. A increase in the number of law enforcement at any time will bring back memories. Anyone who would resemble all of those involved will bring back memories. Those lives will never be the same.

In the end, all parties involved will all have different questions that will all start with one word: Why. Its a question that we may never get an answer to.

May everyone in the greater Boston area be safe and may this situation come to a swift end and hopefully without anymore injury and loss of life.

FH

Ivory Coast Email Scam

For those of you who have read this blog before you know that I find email scams to be rather amusing. I really find it amazing that people will actually fall for some of the things that are sent to their email from strangers in places that they will probably never visit. I am amazed how people believe that they can make millions by just answering an email. I guess if you're in dire straits anything can seem realistic. But man, people need to think. Here's an example of another email scam that recently ended up in my spam folder. Read on:

ASSALAMU'ALAYKUM !!!!!

VERY URGENT FROM THE HOSPITAL

PLEASE DO CONTACT ME THROUGH THIS MY PRIVATE EMAIL: Mariammuhammaddd@yahoo.co.th

I am Mrs. Mariam Muhammad, a widow to late Muhammad Hashim former owner of Petroleum & Gas Company here in Ivory Cost West Africa. I am 63 years old, suffering from long time Cancer of the breast. From all indications my condition is really deteriorating and it's quite obvious that I won't live more than 2 months according to my doctors.

This is because the cancer stage has gotten to a very bad stage. I don't want you to pity me, but I need your assistance and trust. My late husband died early last year from Heart attack, and during the period of our Marriage we couldn't produce any child. I found your e-mail address in the web directory, and I have decided to contact you, but if for any reason you find this mail offensive, please you can ignore it and please accept my apology.

Before my late husband died he deposited the sum of One million, Three Hundred Thousand United States dollars (USD$1.3 Million) in a Bank some years ago, that’s all I have left now, I have wholeheartedly decided to donate the entirety of this fund to any devoted Believer or organization and to achieve this, I need an individual that will utilize this funds adherent for these purposes.

1: For the sick, less-privileged
2: For the Widows and the motherless babies e.t.c
3: Orphanage or Charity Home

Presently, I'm in a hospital in Ivory Coast, where I have been undergoing treatment for esophageal cancer. I want someone, who is God-fearing to use this money for the propagating the good news of God, orphanages and widows, I await your quick response to this mail as this is my last wish to see this funds transferred before my death. I want you to contact my servant with this information below:

Servant Fouad Khalifa Address: Rue De La Yamoussoukro L/G 152 Macory Abidjan, Cote D'Ivoire Tel +225-66404825 Email: Fouadkhalifar@yahoo.co.th

He will give you the documents of the fund and will direct you to a well known lawyer that i have appointed, the lawyer will assist you to change the documents of the money to your name to enable the bank transfer the money to you. This is the favor i need when you have gotten the money:-

(1) Give 20% of the money to my servant Fouad Khalifa as he has been there for me throughout my illness and i have promised to support him in life. I want you to take him along with you to your country and establish him as your son. The lawyer's name is Barrister Pedro Jose. And Let Fouad Khalifa sends you his International Passport to be sure of who you are dealing with. Fouad Khalifa is so little, therefore guide him.

I hope God gives you the wisdom to touch many lives that is my main concerned. 30% of this money will be for your time and effort, while 50% goes to charities that will appreciate your assistance for this project. The doctor has stopped me from receiving and making calls due to my health condition.

Yours Sister in Islam.
Mrs. Mariam Muhammad
Allah Hafiz.
As Salam Alaikum!

As you can see this one is rather polished compared to others I have gotten. The spelling is correct and has very few grammatical errors. It kind of makes your heart go out to Mrs. Mariam Muhammad. Kind of.

Come on people. Don't fall for these scams. You know better than that.

FH

Detour MTA Style

Before I go into my story, I have to admit. I really haven't had much to complain about in terms of the MTA. Even with the upcoming fare hike, I thought the way they handled Hurricane Sandy was amazing. Service on my lines have been virtually flawless. But something has really been infecting people as of late. No, not the flu but the push people into the tracks bug has been rampant as of late. Now before we make assumptions, I don't know that this morning's issue was due to a pushing. But I was told that the delay on the Lexington Avenue line was due to someone being trapped under the train at 23rd Street. Knowing that, I can proceed.

I get to the Bleecker Street 6 train station at 5:14am with time to catch the 5:16am train and notice that a 4 train is pulling out slowly. On the PA system I hear do to a police investigation, there is no local service between 42nd Street Grand Central and Brooklyn Bridge in both directions. I quickly exit and walk to Prince Street to catch the N to 14th Street Union Square.

I wait at Prince for about 10 minutes and after a few minutes on the train I get to Union Square. I notice the LED time schedules all say "Delay" for the Lexington Avenue trains. That got my "Spidey-sense" a-tingling but continued down to the platform where a 4 train was in the local track with its doors open and everyone walking off the train. Apparently the train was stuck there until further notice. Now mind you, I just finished working a 9-hour shift at the bar with a bad day of sleep before (Momma-San is sick with the flu) so I was already beat up. But as in typical Sisco fashion, here I go on one of my epic early morning trips.

Out the train station I go Westward toward 14th and 7th to catch the 2 train to the Bronx. I always hesitate to catch the 2 train home especially late night/early morning. Why? Two reasons. One is that there is an unusual amount of jackassery that's happens on that line late night. The second reason only make the first one worst. The 2 train runs local late nights and going from 14th Street to Pelham Parkway (where I was planning to go) makes for a loooooooong ride. To avoid being caught in a sweepytime moment of my own, I got a cup of coffee to stay awake while on the train. Good news, the 2 train was pulling in as I was waking down to the platform. Bad news, it was indeed going local and that got even worse in the Bronx. Good news, there was no jackassery. Bad news, for some reason, the 2 train instead of going to 241st Street and Wakefield as it normally does. It detoured from East 180th up the 5 train line. So imagine how I felt when I heard at East 180th that the next stop was Morris Park and not Bronx Park East. So much for an easy remaining ride. Off the train we went to wait for a 2 train shuttle to take us to Wakefield. 15 minutes later we were finally moving North. By this time, I had to use the bathroom and dipped into the Rainbow Diner. After I bought another cup of coffee and used the facilities I walked to the Bx39 bus stop.

At this point it was 6:54am and the bus was due to arrive at 6:59am. Guess what happened next. The bus arrived on time? Yeah right. You didn't think I was so lucky for a bus to actually be on time. Silly of you to think so. Well, it was on time. The 7:09am bus was on time for its scheduled stop but the 6:59am bus was either super early or didn't show at all. Since the stop was empty, I'd wager that it was early. At least 5 minutes early. Truly unacceptable.

By the time this bus crawled down White Plains Road and I got home it was 7:45am. A full two and a half hours later from the time I left the bar. Mind you, my trip optimally can take an hour from the point I catch the train to the moment I walk in the door. Alas, that was not to be in the cards for me.

And here I am 10 hours later on a 6 train heading back to work. Ay-yay-yay.

Later,
FH