Well, I'm officially a potential terrorist now. Walking from Herald Square to Penn Station I got stopped by a probably-very-nice-person-when-off-duty-but-well-armed-and-surrounded-by-hundreds-of-his-friends-who-probably-liked-picking-on-geeks-like-me-in-high-school police officer. He asked to see my train ticket. Which, I don't think is really kosher, legally speaking, what with the right to privacy and anonymity and what not, but anyway. Quite rude, he was. And ignorant. Didn't really know anything about the train tickets. Could have shown him a coupon to Nathan's and he wouldn't have known the difference. Not to mention the fact that I have been walking down that street for almost 4 years. And today I'm a freakin' suicide bomber. Dorky, pale, knock-kneed lil me. It is to laugh.
At least he was working. I wish I could get a job where I could stand around with a few hundred of my football buddies [hypothetically speaking of course, if football were say, in some alternate universe, interesting in any way... and I had more than a handful of friends...], eating donuts [really, I saw them], laughin' and jokin' and, um, packin'.