Eject the Pervert!

Ejecting the Pervert from NYC bus!  A funny tale of bravery and bedlam!  #funny @SoThenStories.com

So then…my sister glares at the stranger with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns, telepathically conveying, “Someone’s getting’ thrown from this bus – and it ain’t gonna be me, buddy!”

Let me back up.

My darling sister Dawn is visiting me in New York City for the first time, along with her husband.

We’re all in our 20’s and I’m so excited to show off the city I’ve called home a couple years now.

I take them to:

Stunning museums!
Fabulous Broadway shows!
International restaurants!
Cool dance clubs!
And world-renowned landmarks!

And for ever after, when people ask her about her first trip to Manhattan, does she share those wondrous sights, sounds, and experiences?

Nope.

She shares this story:

Dawn, her husband, and I take the subway from midtown Manhattan all the way downtown to Battery Park for a huge 4th of July festival.

All day and night, New Yorkers make their way down to the harbor to see the ships and fireworks.

It’s a blast!

But then the event’s over. And all those hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers want to go home UPTOWN right now.

Like RIGHT NOW.

Naturally the mass transit system can’t handle ALL of us at once, so we walk in big massive sweaty throngs from subway entrance to subway entrance, hoping to find one that’s open. But they’re all packed from overcrowding.

Finding a taxi is laughable and traffic ain’t moving anyway.

We consider waiting it out, but late night in Battery Park’s a bit sketchy.

The crack ho’s and meth heads are puzzled why their ‘hood’s mobbed with anxious Uptown preppies. “Get out the way, preppies. You’re harshing our mellow.”

So we trudge onward, desperate for any mode of transportation.

FINALLY we see a bus. It is full. We board anyway.

Every inch of space is taken with tired cranky people in various degrees of inebriation.

In the mayhem, the three of us are separated as we stand in the aisle squeezed amongst tons of other people.

As the bus inches its way uptown, we hear some murmuring, annoyed tsking, and a couple “Hey!s” from the right side of the bus.

My sister’s on that side of the bus — but her husband’s in the back and I’m on the far left, so we can’t really see what’s happening.

We find out later from my sister that there’s a man who is…how do I say…slightly tipsy? intoxicated? – ok, SMASHED OUT OF HIS EVER-LIVIN’ MIND!

Apparently, this big tall guy decides to lean into the women standing next to him – and I mean LEEEEEAN into them.

He wants to share his Rocket Pocket and NO ONE is buying. As soon as he leans his pelvicular area into some girl or woman, they push him away, but he just gets gropey elsewhere.

Passengers complain to the bus driver, who says, “I’m not allowed to leave my seat – can someone back there help out!?”

Lots of mumbling, but no action.

Bus keeps moving; the drunk guy keeps leaning his Joy Junk into the women near him. People are telling him to cut it out but he just shouts belligerently. He’s bobbing and swaying – and lunges in my direction.

My sister Dawn – my sweet petite darling sister who wouldn’t hurt a fly says, “That’s it, buddy, you’re OUTTA here!”

He laughs. She shouts, “Off the bus!” He turns away. She calls to the driver, “Stop the bus! This guy’s gettin’ off.”

The guy curses and moves away from her, squeezing into the crowd in front of him.

MY SISTER FOLLOWS HIM.

She keeps telling him, “Off the bus. Off the bus, buddy.”

He resists. She follows and starts tapping him on the shoulder! He’s at least a foot taller than her! It’s like David poking Goliath.

She’s nudging him toward the exit. He resists and curses.

She perseveres.

Her husband and I are in shock – we’re separated from her by about 30 people in each direction. We can’t even reach her to help her!

She keeps prodding him closer and closer to the exit. People try to squeeze out of the way to give them a tiny path to stumble through.

Now he’s in that little step well next to the doors, but hanging on for dear life. He does NOT want to exit the bus.

The driver stops the bus and pushes the door’s auto-open button. My sister keeps nudging the guy, pushing him politely but firmly in the back, saying, “You need to get off the bus now, go home – go home, guy” – and finally shoves him out the door!

THE BUS ERUPTS INTO HUGE CHEERS!

The driver quickly pushes the auto-close button, drives up a couple blocks, stops the bus, stands up and says,

“Men! You oughta be ashamed of yourselves! I legally can’t leave my seat or lay hands on any passenger! I can’t believe you let that tiny little girl throw that drunk pervert off the bus! You should’ve helped her!” Then he turns to my sister and says, “Good job, young lady. I thank you – we all do!”

And the bus claps and cheers for my sister again – and all the men look a bit sheepish – and honestly, the ones who were close enough to that section of the bus could have helped a bit –

But hey, hell hath no fury like my sister when someone’s shoving their unwelcome boy toy willy-nilly into a crowd!

And ya know what? That’s a helluva better First-Trip-to-New-York story than some dusty ol’ museum recap!

Go Dawn! Girl Power for the Win!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Do you agree the stories of what went wrong are often more memorable than what went right? Any tales of bravery to share?)

SHOCK, AWE & OUTRAGE! Hilarious Mini-Melodrama on My Subway!

Shock, Awe & Outrage! A Hilarious Mini-Melodrama Enacted on My Local Subway!  #funny #subway #NYC #NewYork #humor

So then…I grab a seat, wedging myself between two other passengers on the subway car, as we barrel toward midtown Manhattan.

It’s not too crowded, so everyone has a seat as we calmly pass the time reading, avoiding eye contact, or staring blankly at the subway ads for plastic surgery and STDs.

Just then, a woman in her 50’s enters from the back of the subway car and quietly hands a pen to each passenger with a little note attached. She looks very sad as she works her way down the row of passengers.

The note says, “I am deaf. Please help me by buying this pen for $1. If you don’t want the pen, I will come back to pick it up. Thank you.”

Some people dig in their pockets and purses for a buck; others simply hold the pen until she comes back around for it.

She’s about halfway through collecting dollars or pens, when a conductor enters the back of the subway car and loudly announces: “Ladies and gentlemen, do NOT give this woman any money.”

Gasp! My head snaps up. Other passengers look startled! How heartless!

Is this subway employee going to tell us solicitations are against regulations? This poor deaf lady’s just trying to raise a little money!

The passengers stare at the conductor.

He continues, in a very cynical, world-weary tone, “This woman is not deaf. She has never been deaf. I have seen her speak and hear just as well as you and I. Do NOT give her any money.”

GASP! Now we all stare at the lady.

She whirls around and shouts at him in a garbled tone, “Howm day-ra you! I AMMN duffh! I AMMN duffh!”

DOUBLE GASP! She IS deaf!

How dare he accuse her of faking it! Just listen to her! She talks just like deaf people talk in movies!! Omigod, this conductor is cruel!

We all glare at the merciless conductor.

The conductor stares straight at her and says:

“If you’re deaf, how did you hear me say that BEHIND you?”

GASP GASP GASP!!!!

OMIGOD! Touché, conductor, touché!

Now our heads all whip toward the woman! Half of us are still clutching pens or dollars – mesmerized as this melodrama unfolds.

It’s like Wimbledon up in here with our heads whipping back and forth between the two players throwin’ down on the court of public opinion!

She scowls at him with an odious expression, turns on her heel, and storms out of the subway car into the next one in a blaze of fury!

He shakes his head wearily, then slowly follows behind her to thwart her next attempt.

As the subway door closes behind them, we all look at each other in awe.

We’re not sure whether we should applaud or not. It was like a mini-drama played out right before our eyes – a live street performance with a roller coaster of emotions encompassing pity, shock, anger, dismay, outrage – and finally the revelation!

Subway Theatre presents:
The Deceitful “Deaf” Lady
and the Crusading Conductor

Shows at 10:30, 2:45 and 4:15 daily
Admission: $1 (or not)

Damn, I love New York: every place, a stage – every person, a character – live theatre at its most authentic!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Heard of any similar cons or scams? Any interesting New York stories? Do tell!)

MY Red Lace Panties on HER Head?

Hilarious Story about how MY Red Lace Panties Ended Up on HER Head!  #funny  #bra  #panties  #shopping  #fashion

So then…she says, “Maybe black lace? Or something colorful? Purple?”

“I don’t know – maybe,” I respond. “But I do need a whole new wardrobe of unmentionables. It’s been so long since I’ve been bra and panty shopping – mine are falling apart!”

“Yeah,” says Melissa. “But I hate bra shopping. Such a pain.”

We’re in our 20s with fairly slim figures, but shopping for bras or swimsuits are always the worst excursions, regardless of your age or size. Too many options — and it’s a hassle to keep squeezing into tight garments for the right fit.

We walk the few short blocks from our Park Avenue office to the Lord & Taylor department store on Fifth Avenue and 39th. It’s a lovely store and soon we are knee-deep (tits-deep?) in bras of every shape, color, and size.

Melissa only needs a couple items, but my shopping bag is packed with several bras and even more panties. I’m stunned by the total cost. Why is it — the less the fabric, the higher the price?

We have just enough time to zip into the pizza place on the corner before returning to the office.

We order our slices and sodas at the counter, then join the throngs crammed together into the little tables and chairs. I pop up a couple times for napkins and soda refills.

When we’re done, I reach beneath the table for my Lord & Taylor shopping bag.

It’s gone.

Gone.

We look everywhere but it’s clearly been nicked while we were eating.

How infuriating!

Not only did I spend a sizeable chunk of this week’s pay on the aforementioned unmentionables – but I wasted an hour trying on a million bras to find the exact right fit in a variety of styles and colors.

“I can’t believe I didn’t even notice anyone stealing my shopping bag! How could I not see someone walking off with it?” I ask.

Melissa says, “It’s New York! We’re all squished in here — plus there are bag ladies coming in and out of this place all the time. One of them probably just picked it up and added it to her other bags and kept walking.”

A bag lady?

This distresses me even more. At least a professional thief-junkie would return the undergarments to the store with the receipt — and get cash back for some crack or smack.

But a bag lady would probably just wear the expensive bras on the outside of her flak jacket – and my new red lace panties on her head.

From that point forward, as I’m walking in the city, I’m on high alert look-out for my bras and panties in case I see any of them gracing the outerwear of the city’s bag ladies – with price tags still attached.

I picture myself doling out dollars amongst the street dwellers, seeking intel: “Psst hey, have you seen anyone sporting a scoop neckline lavender lace bra with reinforced straps? How about zebra design panties with a black side bow? No? OK, keep your eyes open, doll. I’m on a mission here.”

— Darcy Perdu

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(Do you detest bra/panty/swimsuit shopping as much as I do? Ever have something stolen right out from under you? Any New York City stories?  I love to read your comments!)