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Yell Into The 1 Train

An anonymous Bwog staffer has found the best place to yell, and s/he wants to share these findings with you.

When I first came to New York, I was terrified by the subway. I got on, it immediately started shaking violently, and I legit wondered why anyone would take public transit here.

But for all its shortcomings – and there are a Litany of ’em – it runs pretty well, and it gets you from point A to point B with few problems.

It’s speedy, loud… and when arriving at the platform, the perfect vessel into which I can moan, mutter, and grumble about my daily anxieties.

Shouting into the wind generated by the giant metal box barreling down rat-infested tracks at 160.934 kilometers per hour is cathartic. For one thing, given all that noise, no one can hear me scream. (Or they see me and just think I’m pissed at the MTA. “Relatable!”) It’s anonymous, since no one in a city of eight million other people cares about me or my problems. Plus, that $2.75 (or a real solid box jump) is a better deal than what any therapist in this city would give me.

So, if I may make a suggestion for this new term, use the breeze to vent. If you want to yell, yell. If you want to bitch about that NSOP “friend” you’re going on an obligatory outing with, you’ve got ample time to get out the real bad stuff. Maybe if enough of us do it, we might be able to make this a tradition instead of that stupid “primal scream” thing.

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  • Anonymous says:

    @Anonymous please don’t burden the 1 train with your problems, it has enough going on as it is

  • Anonymous says:

    @Anonymous The apprentice thought that this seemed the best plan, and that very afternoon went to a meadow outside the town, dug a deep hole, then knelt and whispered to it three times over, “The Emperor Trojan has goat’s ears.” And as he said so a great burden seemed to roll off him, and he shoveled the earth carefully back and ran lightly home.

    Weeks passed away, and there sprang up in the hole an elder tree which had three stems, all as straight as poplars. Some shepherds, tending their flocks near by, noticed the tree growing there, and one of them cut down a stem to make flutes of; but, directly he began to play, the flute would do nothing but sing: “The Emperor Trojan has goat’s ears.” Of course, it was not long before the whole town knew of this wonderful flute and what it said; and, at last, the news reached the emperor in his palace.

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