Naked on the Subway (Part 3)

While riding the Path train, trying to avoid eye contact, my mind was a jumble of thoughts. Where am I going to get dressed? What the hell am I going to do? Why didn’t I just get dressed at the laughing Chinese Lady’s shop? Why can’t I get up on time? Why? Why? Why?

I was suddenly interrupted by this guy. He was staring. Hard. It wasn’t a quick peek and look away. It was a mouth watering, I-haven’t-been-laid-in-6-months-and-I-want-to-get-to-know-you-naked-girl-

on-the-train type of stare.

It made me uncomfortable, and I didn’t know what to do, so I stared back. When in doubt, be confrontational. I finally said, “Is there a problem?” He said, “What’s the matter? You didn’t have time to get dressed this morning?” I said, “Haven’t you ever heard of dress down day?” And then I ran off the train.

I ran up the steps and down the block only to think that things looked different. I knew it was early but it just seemed... and then I realized I got off at the wrong stop. That crazy stalker/starer had rattled me so much that I got off at 23rd street, and my job was on 34th. With no money for a cab, I jumped onto the 9-train.

My eyes search the train for coworkers so frenetically that I look like an epileptic patient. I’m so close to work that it’s almost inevitable I’ll run into someone. Hottie Boss is going to kill me.

The people in NJ had been staring, gawking, whistling and waving, but my beloved New Yorkers barely blink. I’m naked on the subway, and someone else is really a man dressed as

a woman, and someone else is crazy talking to himself about peanut butter, while a blind man, who appears to be able to see, begs for change. I’m with my people. I’m home.

I pop out of the train a block from work. I run into the Manhattan Mini-Mall because I know there’s a set of bathrooms on the top floor. I have 3 minutes. I would get dressed in the elevator, but it’s made of glass. This karma bullshit sucks, when it happens in reverse to you.

I’m running towards the bathroom when two maintenance guys call out, “Excuse me, the mall is closed.” I turn around, with only a moment to spare, and plead like my life depends on it. I stare straight in their eyes, and say, “Listen. I. Need. To. Use. Your. Bathroom. Now!” I punctuate each word by looking at my body hoping they understand. One guy moves into action. He quickly unlocks the bathroom for me. I run in, throw my suit on and run out. Please let me get to work on time!

I sit down in the meeting with a second to spare. Hottie Boss looks over at me and smiles. It was all worth it for that smile, and the confirmation that I’m in the clear with him for the time being. I’ll still get to do whatever I want.

And the next day, as I’m buying my usual salad at lunch from the top floor of the food court at the Manhattan Mini Mall, a guy walks over to me and hands me a note. I don’t recognize him at first, but it’s one of the guys who had let me into the bathroom the day before. The note says, “Dear YOU” in capitals, “We would love to take you out. Love, Joey and Vinny.” It’s hard not to laugh to myself. Maybe there is something to this getting up early in the morning thing after all.

Naked on the Subway (Part 2)

I arrived at the dry cleaners, and the Chinese woman who owned the place knew me by last name. She said, “I’ll be right back.” I was thinking about how I would phrase my request of, “Can I use your back room,"or “Do you have somewhere I can get dressed,” when she brought out 10 suits. She started to give them to me when I said, “No, I’ll just take the blue one.” She laughed and said, “You get dressed here.”

It really annoyed me. Can we discuss the level I had taken this non-morning person thing? I’m one of those rare breed non-morning people who, not only can’t wake up in the morning, but when forced to be up early, I can’t speak. Or I can speak, but it’s with great difficulty, that’s for sure. I mean, who really wants to talk in the morning?

Maybe if I hadn’t had so much to drink the night before, and didn’t have a hangover, things would’ve went differently. Maybe, if in the past I had been able to handle a morning question like, “Would you like some orange juice,” without wanting to commit murder, things would’ve went differently. Maybe if I got more sleep in general, but shoulda, coulda, woulda for some damn reason the Chinese woman telling me, “You get dressed here,” pissed me off. I thought it was rather presumptuous of her to tell me I was getting dressed there.

And that laugh. Ha ha ha ha. It wasn’t a full laugh. It wasn’t a sneer. It was an, “I’m happy and don’t need coffee or anything in the morning, I just wake up," type of laugh. Maybe she

laughed, because she was nervous. Or maybe she actually had a sense of humor. Maybe she was laughing because I was obviously naked and needed a place to get dressed, and how the hell did this happen?

But in the morning, I can’t think straight. I can’t think of all these logical reasons. The laugh was part of my anger. If she had said without laughing, “I know how hard it is to get up in the morning and then to get dressed on top of it is too much. Here, come in the back and you get dressed here.” That type of understanding would’ve made all the difference.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, “You get dressed here. Ha ha ha ha.” So I showed her by walking right out and potentially losing the only place I had to get dressed in. I said, “No, I’m taking that suit for later,” which made no sense. Displaced anger is a real bitch.

As I walked down Washington Avenue, people seemed to notice me. A police man waved, a construction worker whistled, and I got a few up-and-down look overs from men and women walking by, but somehow I thought this was totally normal. I had convinced myself that nobody really noticed anything amiss.

I walked fast to the Barnes and Noble that was right next to the Path train. My plan was to get dressed in there. As I got closer, I realized it was closed. I’d never been by there that early to know that it doesn’t open before 8. Shit! I’m going to have to ride the Path train naked. How is this my life?

TO BE CONTINUED...

Naked on the Subway (Part 1)

IT'S ONE YEAR SINCE I STARTED CLIMB TO NOWHERE. THANK YOU TO ALL OF MY FOLLOWERS. YOU'RE THE BEST! IN THE SPIRIT OF FUN I'M REPOSTING THE STORY THAT STARTED IT ALL!

Right now, I’m naked on the subway. I’m afraid to sit in fear of showing my crotch. Is this my life? Really? The 9 train is moving fast, but my heart is racing faster. I’m. Naked. On. The. Subway. What? My mind flies in every direction.

I wish there was some crazy hook up story of random hot anonymous stranger sex, but instead it’s a story of laziness. I’m not a morning person, and I’ve never wanted to be one. Let’s face it, morning people are annoying. But this was one day when I wished I had that sunny can-do attitude that my morning counterparts seem to pull off effortlessly. I can be sunny, just not before 10 a.m.

I was living in Hoboken and working in Manhattan. The entire commute was 30 minutes

door-to-door. I was a sales rep selling something else this time, and I went to work late everyday. I had the best boss, a total hottie, who made a great deal with me. Hottie Boss said, “Do well and you can do whatever you want.” I love that phrase, “Do whatever you want.” It has a wonderful ring to it. My sales were always at the top which allowed me to sleep in everyday. Fantastic, I know.

Hottie Boss called me into his office the day before my naked trip to work and stressed that I needed to be on time for work tomorrow. This meant being in the office by 8 o’clock in the morning. I said, “No problem,” but he gave me a look and said, "I'm serious.

There’s a big meeting, and you can’t be late.” All of a sudden I’m not allowed to be late? What kind of job is this? No wink, no smile, no pat on my ass- what’s going on?

I needed to pick up my suits at the dry cleaners, and then all I had to do was get up on time. Simple. I got into the elevator to go home, when I ran into a few friends, who invited me to grab drinks with them. Luckily, there was time for drinks and picking up the suits. But then I stumbled back to my apartment drunk around 11 p.m. As I was falling asleep, I remembered the suits. How could I forget? Alcohol is evil. I guess I’d have to wake up even earlier than I was supposed to and do it in the morning.

Of course, I overslept. It was almost 7:15, when I remembered all my suits were at the dry cleaners. I had nothing else to wear. I needed those suits. The only way I could get to work on time was to get dressed at the dry cleaners. I threw on my bra, panties and my very short raincoat. Some thought it was a blazer, but it was just a really, really short coat.

I threw on pantyhose. Can anything be more uncomfortable or ugly? Pantyhose should never be on your legs. They should only be worn over your face to rob someone, but the company I worked at was very conservative, so I threw on pantyhose.

I had on a bra, panties, pantyhose, 4-inch heels and my “blazer” raincoat. At another time- definitely not in the morning- with a garter and maybe a pair of handcuffs, this could’ve been the beginning of a fun fantasy sex romp. No such luck. I needed to get to work on time. I didn’t want to let Hottie Boss down.

I ran to the dry cleaners as fast as I could. And it was there that my non-morning person attitude got me into trouble.

TO BE CONTINUED...