The Grand Central Crossfade

A stream of consciousness morality tale about mixing substances. Based on true events.

I forgot my AirPods and now I have to listen to my commute home. My senses are uncomfortably heightened. Grand Central feels weird. There are always cops hanging out by the Ukrainian place, and they seemed like they were stoned today. Maybe it’s just me…but is there more of a police presence at Grand Central?

I did an asshole thing. It’s understandable, under the circumstances, but I didn’t put my coat and bag up because I didn’t want to sit next to someone on the train. Then some guy sighed heavily at me. Whatever, I’m in the second car, he’ll find something.

I thought I heard other people cracking open their beers, but I don’t have visual evidence. How much do I trust my ears? How much can a man truly trust his ears without the assurance of his eyes?

I take my beer out of the paper bag the Ukrainians forcefully offered me in front of the high cops. Everyone is looking at me. But they’re doing it without looking at me. Everyone is listening to me. Are we not allowed beers on the train because of Santa Con?

Ticket guy is here. Beer break.

The beer is a celebratory beer. It was my last class at Kimball Studio, at least for now. I’m kind of hanging up the actor shoes. For awhile. We’ll see what happens on the other side of the midlife crisis.

I guzzled a bottle of smart water walking from the Ukrainian place to the train. I’m very serious about hydration.

Two boiled verenekies, mushroom and sauerkraut topped with sour cream and onions. The other two are for my wife. I’m trynna win Husband of the Year over here.

All right so why were the Ukrainians and the stoned cops being so weird about me putting the beer in my bag? She gave me the paper bag, I put the beer in it, I put the beer, in its bag, in my bag. For the train.

So why are you giving me another paper bag (in front of the stoned cops) when I go to pick up my 4 verenekies (two of which are for my wife) for the beer that you already gave me a paper bag for?!

I crack open the beer and savor the sound. This guy has a little more gargle to it.

Shit, my beer can is having a mild explosion on my pants.

Because it got shook up in my bag.

And everyone knew it was gonna get shook up in my bag cuz they were looking at me when I put the beer, in its bag, in my bag. So they made sure I got another bag and some napkins. How kind of them.

I was all paranoid for no reason. The stoned cops told me it was okay to drink beer on the train tonight.

Also,

Thanks.