This is a story about a young boozebag named Skip. This past Friday, Skip decided to hit the sauce on the early side. He indulged in his first martini around 6pm. Throughout Skips boozebag career, this schedule almost always results in some sort of situation later on in the evening. This past Friday was no exception.
Since Skip's first cocktail, he had met up with his fellow boozebags and properly ripped it up for several hours. It was a bud/jager kind of night. It is now 3am and the crew of boozers has started to go their separate ways. Foolishly refusing a ride back to his neighborhood several miles away, Skip ordered another drink special.
Skip and his pal Moe were the only ones left standing. Moe suggested that they hit up Kellogg's Diner.
Kellogg's Diner, (located on the corner of Metropolitan Ave and Union Ave in Williamsburg, Brooklyn) is your standard shitty diner. Open 24/7, at anytime you can get anything from a corn muffin to a broiled 2lb. lobster.
Apparently, Skip started with the french onion soup along with some gravy fries and possibly some sort of chicken sandwich. Some serious late night Hard Grubbin was taking place.
When finished, Skip stumbled to the infamous G train which is located right in front of the diner.(#1 on below map) Riding the G train is always an emotional roller coaster for young Skip. Over the years, he has love and lost on the G train. Laughed and cried on the G train. Lived and yes even died on the G train. Little did he know, it would be the G train that will begin this weekends incident or journey if you will.
Amazingly, Skips ride on the G train was uneventful. Reaching his transfer to the E train (#2) and just 4 stops from his house, Skip decided to rest his eyes for just a moment. When Skip opened his eyes, he was very confused. The E train had stopped and he did not know where he was. He got out of the station and realized he was at the last stop on the E line. Jamaica Queens.(#3) He looked at his watch and it was 7:30am. Feeling as if he were hit by the E train, Skip mumbles, "Dear God". He is trying to figure out how long he had been on the E. It was several hours since he left the diner. He figured he must have been back and forth from the World Trade Center site(#4) to Jamaica (#5) at least 3 times. "I must get home" Skip whispers and makes his way to the inbound E train. The train begins to move and Skip decides to rest his weary eyes for just a minute. When he opens his eyes this time, he looks out the E train window and realizes he is in Times Square, midtown Manhattan. (#6) Skip mumbles, "What? No.". He sees a sign for the familiar and usually kind R train and makes his way through the station. It is a long walk through many tunnels and up and down stair cases to get to the R train from the E train. It felt like 5 miles for young Skipper as he audibly moaned in agony and marched through the early morning crowds.
Skip finally made it to the R train which will take him directly to his house. Relieved, Skip settles into a seat and decides to rest his pained eyes, just for a minute. When he opens his eyes this time, the train is between stations. Skip hears the conductor announce something that is barely audible. "Next stop Elmhurst ave." Skip mumbles, "Elmhur...? Mutha FUCK". Elmhurst ave (#7) is 4 stops past Skips house. With no money for a taxi, he has to leave the station and get on the other side to wait for an inbound R train. After waiting for what seemed like 2 hours, the inbound R finally arrived and Skip boarded trying desperately to keep his eyes open.
Saturday. 8:18am. 46th Street at last.(#8) He made it. Unrobbed and apparently unmolested. Not wanting to even think about the scope of his journey, Skip crashed on his couch with sweet relief. Resting up for the next inevitable situation.