a farewell to (ar)M(s)

To my dear, sweet, wonderfully poo-brown M train,

I miss you already. You've only been gone a day, and I am bereft with grief. Now what train will I ride when I want to see nobody but twelve Hasidm? How will I know what's going on with the tattooed FedEx guy I see every single morning, hungover or not? (You know how I secretly think he's hot, even though we probably have absolutely nothing in common but a tracking numer.)

What will become of my friendship with Robert My Train Friend? (Ok, ok, in all fairness, that's a moot point, as I haven't seen this total stranger since he gave me $175 in gift cards and a Movado watch.) But if I changed my mind and wanted to find Robert of the M Train, how would that be possible?

And my other train friends, like Orange Backpack Guy, Sleeps With Mouth Open, and Big Fat Snorguling* Guy? What about them?

I know you think this is for the best, that you want to "explore new territory," and "have a more fulfilling life," but I refuse to accept this change. I was happy with you, even though you only came at 8:15, 8:35 and 8:45, and if I missed the 8:35, I was pretty much screwed. True love isn't because, it's despite.

So what if your stations were disgusting, plague-filled, rat-infested, pigeon-housing hell holes? They were my disgusting, plague-filled, rat-infested, pigeon-housing hell holes.

Go on. Live your new life. See what Sixth Avenue is like. Find out how the hipsters treat you in upper Brooklyn. I promise you, it won't be the same.

I will survive. But I'll be really crowded and unhappy about it.

Formerly yours,
Kate

p.s. if you ever decide to come back, I'll be here with open arms. And an unlimited metrocard.


*Snorguling = Snoring + Gurgling = Not Delicious