Story time with Em..

If you know me personally, you know I'm a bit troubled in the story department. I believe I have these fantastic stories, yet I tell them in such a horrible fashion. I even took three semesters of storytelling in college, and while I can tell a fictional children's story like the best of them, I cannot tell a real to life, series of events, type of story to save my life. But alas, today I will try my darnedest. Please forgive me ahead of time.

During my recent trip to New York City (didn't see the extensive pictures and play by play? Well by all means please check it out) we decided to cut corners and never once rode in a taxi. Instead we rode in the fantastic New York City subway, on buses, and yes, my least favorite but also most scenic, by foot. I did travel with a true New Yorker after all, and sadly she did not believe in the Carrie Bradshaw approach to NYC travel.

I didn't mind riding the subway so much. In fact, it was kind of amusing most of the time, as I got to do one of my favorite personal pastimes and hobbies, people watch. I like to consider myself an observer, and I can't help but watch the people and events around me. During one of our lovely subway rides, my beloved Cameron and I sat speechless, too exhausted from our day of travel around the city. The trains doors open and in walks a rather tall Ukrainian woman and her rather small two, maybe three year old son. The two hugged the center pole as the train jolted forward.

Across from this mother and son duo sat a middle aged woman with her head resting against the glass train window, her eyes shut from the exhaustion of her day. The small and cute two year old boy? He begins to bark, yes, bark at the sleeping woman. I immediately turn to Cameron, a grin upon my face, wearing the expression of, "What the heck?" "I think he's trying to wake her," Cameron responds. Right, with a bark.

The boy then turns his attention to the pole that has been holding him up for the short minutes he's been on the train (that and the strong grip his mother has on the hood of his coat.) He eyes his new friend with curiosity, rubbing his cheek on the germ infested beam. Then his intensity on the shiny, silver, and seemingly disgusting pole grows. He isn't going to do what I think he's going to do, is he? No he won't, will he?

Cameron and I look at each other, knowing good and well what the other person is thinking. Then, the unthinkable happens. This young child sticks out his tongue and licks that New York City subway train pole. A rupture of laughter erupts from our bellies, a dark glare of protection from his mother follows soon after.

Thank you kid for our laughter that day, we probably needed it. But gross.