Being trapped on the subway for very nearly three hours led to my attempting a daring escape at the first opportunity, mostly due to the fact that my bladder was going to explode. After a hodge podge of train jumping (bus to the F to the A to the G to the A to a bus again to a small covered wagon up Nostrand Avenue), this meant I landed somewhere in Bed-Stuy. (I think?)
My only potty opportunity was a McDonald's.
I bought a single cheeseburger and consumed it (so as to be an actual "customer" - New York restaurants really don't like letting people use their potties) and then made my way to the bathroom where I was confronted by a skinny little manager type who informed me that I wasn't allowed to use the bathroom. When I asked why, he said "Cos I closed this side of the restaurant."
I then politely informed him that I was just going to urinate on his floor and did he mind?
Just then, as if on cue, a chorus of older Caribbean women who'd been sitting in the restaurant to escape the 98 degree heat began to shout at the manager in a colorful patois:
"WATCHOO MEAN YOU DOAN WAN DEE LADY TO YOOS YUR BA' TROOM? DEE LADY SHE GOT TO PEE, YA ASSHOLE! HOW YOU LIKE IF DEE MON HE NO LET YOU PEE IN YUR BA' TROOM? DAT NOT RIGHT, MON!At which point, backed up by my
It was awesome.