Living in Brooklyn, I now have to regularly ride the subway to and from work. It is reason #1753 I enjoy New York over Sunnyvale. In Sunnyvale, I had no choice but to drive to work. Driving to work entails traffic, buying gas, flipping off other drivers, finding parking, and getting parking tickets after you park illegally because you got pissed off when you couldn't find parking. On the other hand, the biggest challenge riding the subway is figuring out what you want to read on the way. I've already knocked out about five books since the move, and countless New Yorkers. The problem is that the new book I'm currently reading is a thick hardback, which makes it impractical to carry on the subway. I never buy or read hardbacks, for the very reason they are hardbacks: They are hard to read, and hurt my back. And they are usually expensive. However, the hardbook i'm reading now was a gift, and thus i've made an exception. But because i'm unable to travel with it, as it is a lot of pages and very heavy, because i'm smarter than you and only read books with lots of pages that are very heavy, i've had to find a new daily companion. For the sake of finances, i've chosen the New York Post. It only costs a quarter, and is in a book layout, making it easy to read. The issue is that reading the NY Post makes you look stupid, as it is about a step above the National Enquirer as far as journalistic quality and integrity is concerned. Half the paper is dedicated to celebrity sightings in New York's restaurants. I'm uncomfortable with this, as my image is of extreme importance to me, particularly on a subway. My first instinct was to switch to the NY Times, but that brought about two problems. Firstly, the NY Times is a dollar, which puts it just beyond my reach. Secondly, and this is a problem I've had with regular newspapers since I was a kid, how the fuck are you supposed to read a regular-sized newspaper? There is nothing I hate more than being into a story on the front page, and then having to turn to C12 to finish the story, particularly on a subway. And holding something that big in a confined space like a subway is nearly impossible, especially since half the time you are standing and have to use one arm to hold on to a nearby pole (subway pole, not a man's throbbing erection, just to clarify). Am I alone on this? Why aren't all newspapers shaped like the NY Post .. or better yet, a magazine? Why are they still shaped like they were when the lead story was about the military loss at Alamo? In any event, this is why I don't read the NY Times, or even the USA Today. To recap this dilemma which you all certainly find disconcerting: I prefer the NY Post, but it makes me look stupid. The NY Times makes me look successful, but I can't hold it (apparantly successful people know how to hold newspapers better than the losers). As such, i've devised two possible solutions.
One option is to print out a masking cover to the NY Post. Something to put over it to make it look like a different paper (this is the vinatge Playboy scene in bad movies .. A boy at the library actually has a Playboy within the library book it looks like he is studying.) I could print out a cover page for a fictional newspaper, say, The Economist Genius Edition. Once designed, I could place this cover to hide the cover of the NY Post, and look smart. That takes a lot of work, and a printing press, so I'm guessing I won't get to that anytime soon. My second option is to carry around a copy of Albert Camus' "The Plague", that I let hang out of my jacket pocket just enough for everyone to notice it. I'll slip the NY Post inside my jacket, and let it fall when nobody is looking. That way, it looks like I am picking up a random copy that was just laying on the ground. Then, when I flip through it, I will snicker a lot, in that way smart people snicker when they are reading something well beneath them. I will pretend I am just taking a moment to flip through the literature of the heathens .. Just to see what is going on in their world. Towards the end of my ride, I will throw the Post back on the floor, shake my head in disgust at the unintelligent filth I just read, and pull out my Camus. When I reach my stop, I'll make a quick comment, like "Oh, Camus, how I hate to put you down, but I must!" and walk off the train.
Problem solved.
And yes, these really are the things I think about during an average day.