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Dear Riders of the L Train around 1145pm last night:

I'm fucking sorry I didn't want to ride my bike home last night. I feel terrible that I brought it on to the train and somehow accosted you with my miscreant behavior.
I'm really fucking apologetic that you had to move so that I could get off the train. Thanks for just moving an inch despite my stature, despite the helmet hanging from heavy bag, despite the fact that I was moving a fucking bike off the train. It wasn't RUSH HOUR.

There was one decent human being in the whole ride who noticed that after carrying my bike up the stairs (there was still another flight to come) that I was struggling through the emergency exit and so he held the door for me. He's stand up.

While I'm talking about bike misadventures, I'd like to also thank the really fucking classy horse and carriage driver who I stopped to ask for directions. Thanks, guy! For not at all stealthily peering into my crotchal regions as I dismounted my bike. Good job, you prick.

In conclusion, thanks everyone for being awesome. Your faces are ugly when you're scowling, and I'm sorry for that too, you stupid schmucks.

Love,

Whitney