When Politicians Promote Peace, Everybody Loses

Last week, as many of you know, the UN was celebrating its 60th anniversary. At the same time, the fashion world was celebrating Fashion Week for like the 16th time this calendar year. With all the self-congratulatory mental masturbation going on you'd think it was the Third of the Month. But no. See, the Third of the Month, while all about loving yourself, doesn't involve pissing me off.

So, I needed to walk to the subway last week to get a new Metrocard, so I decided to take the 6 down to Hunter College. Being the lazy git that I am, I decided that, rather than walk the 4 blocks in the muggy heat, I'd take the M66. After all, I could see the bus down the street, between Park and Lex. So I waited. And waited. And waited. I got through Donna Summer's "I Got Your Love" and Madonna's "Holiday" before the bus managed to cross Lexington. And why? Because apparently all of Midtown was rerouted to the Upper East Side because a few diplomats need to be able to not be assassinated.

But that's not it. I had to watch three very able-bodied young women walk all the way from the back of the bus to get out the front, instead of the back, prohibiting the woman in the walker from exiting in a timely fashion and further delaying our embarkment just long enough for another train to arrive and forty more people try to pile on to go the four blocks that I was too lazy to walk. Fortunately I had Maroon 5 and Electric Six to keep me company (God bless my iPod).

It would have been ok, except that when the bus finally got to 1st Ave, this other woman (herinto refered to as "the ho") suddenly realized, after about four thousand people exitted, that she wanted to get off. This ho managed to yell "back door!" without dropping either her cell phone (presumably it was her conversation that had kept her too distracted to see the entire bus had vacated) or her nail polish, quite a feat. A feat that managed to allow just enough cars in front of the bus that it got held up through THREE LIGHTS before it got to York and was able to let the rest of the people off.

It took me twenty minutes, TWENTY MINTUES, to travel four blocks. And I was neither given a free ticket to Fashion Week nor compensated for putting up with the traffic, save for the pleasure of getting to hear a diplomat's punk-ass kid double park his SUV outside of my apartment, crappy-ass ghetto music loud enough to shake my couch, so he could get a kebap. Well, I can forgive him that because we got some damn good kebaps in our building....