I hauled over 6,000 pennies to the bank in a backpack last week. Six thousand pennies is about as heavy as a three large bowling balls and the severed head of Dick Clark. (I’m sorry. Too soon?) My back is still recovering, but I suppose it wouldn’t have been as bad had I not been a total moron.
First, I took the train the wrong way, because I was living in my own happy little universe. Don’t judge me. It’s cool here, and it’s full of Mai Tais.
So I had to get off the the train and go back the other way, but when I crossed the street and went down the stairs, there was no MetroCard machine. Just a homeless guy sleeping on the steps. No matter how many dollar bills I shoved up his nose, he wouldn’t give me a MetroCard, which is total bullshit.
So I had to cross the street again to the station I had just come out of to get a card, then back across the street so I could go the other way.
When I finally got there, I was pretty sure I’d peed myself, because I was soaking wet, and not in a happy fun-time way. Guys, when you sweat so much that it’s entirely possible you peed your pants without realizing it, it’s too damn hot. I’m just glad none of you were within 10 feet of my crotch that afternoon. Some might call this TMI, but I have no concept of shame.
But it was totally worth it, because now I don’t have a plastic alien head full of pennies, and Devon and I can stop unloading responsibility for it on each other.