The adventures of an Asshole on a Friday night…

Who would have ever thought the $3.50 metro rail ticket pictured above would have led to an amazing yet bizarre night of people watching. Well, I guess I should not have been surprised with the people I see downtown waiting for public transportation. I normally do not utilize public transportation, but this past Friday evening I made a questionable decision to take the train that runs along Main Street in Buffalo to get to my destination of choice.

I am a single father and am divorced; life as I once knew it has long departed. It is safe to say that I am in a transitional phase of my life where I am still trying to find myself and what I want to do for entertainment when I am not with my son. Gone are the partying days of old, where I was out drinking to ungodly hours of the night, as well as the days where I was participating in athletics. I am not that same person as I was before; the rigorous grind that has been my life has altered who I am.

My first thought for this particular Friday evening was to go to the Albright Knox Art Museum and see what works of art I can enjoy and or mock in their new exhibit that was recently put on display, but that was ruled out because they close at 5:00. Their hours are terrible; they are open from 10-5 on Tuesday through Sunday, and from 10-10 on the first Friday of each month. The traditional stereotypical work days for people are from 9-5 Monday through Friday, so what do they do? Close when most people get out of work, so they cannot come to the museum… To me that makes absolutely no sense. Chalk that up as another reason for me to continue my ongoing hatred with the art community.  

With the idea of the art gallery shelved, G and I went back to the drawing board. I suggested going to a German style restaurant that recently opened up, but there was one issue. It is near the First Niagara Center and Bruce Springsteen was playing there on this Friday night and the show was a near sellout. I am still am confused by how a man who sounds constipated while singing can pack an arena; I am not a Springsteen fan as you can probably tell by my last statement. Regardless of my thoughts on The Boss, traffic and parking would be a nightmare because in that area because of the concert. Struggling to find anything else that sounded remotely interesting to do, we decided to go to that restaurant near the arena because I kind of had my heart set on it, but would I would meet her at her apartment, park there and take the train down to avoid traffic and parking issues.  

Taking the train downtown did not seem like such a bad idea in the beginning, until the time came where I entered the train. Whatever look that was on my face prior to getting on the train was replaced by a confused look of astonishment and disgust once the ride began. Here is a rundown of what was I had witnessed on this particular Friday night.

To start my adventure, there was a few people in their late 40’s through early 60’s, who standing directly in front of the seats we had taken, that appeared to be elitist yuppies… the artsy, wine swilling type whom I despise with a passion. I immediately wanted to stab them with a dull butter knife. I should have known where this night was heading from this moment.

As we were in our seats waiting for the doors to close and depart the station, a skinny little white teenager, in his best black gangster’s accent called out, “Yo come on” (I wish I knew how to phonetically write out his words in ebonics) to a group of obnoxious female teenagers (both black and white) who apparently did not pay to ride the train. The ruckus they were causing apparently attracted the attention of the transit officers who questioned them on the way to the next station. I actually found some pleasure in watching them get escorted off of the train and hearing an officer say “Am I talking to you? No... So, shut up” to one of the teenagers that he was not talking to at the moment, but insisted in putting in her two cents. This made the delay they caused at the station well worth it. Had the morons just got on, sat down, and kept the conversation at a reasonable volume, they probably would not have gotten caught. 

 After the teenage idiots were disposed of, we proceeded on our way and picked up people who were on their way to the Springsteen convert. I think it was their Springsteen concert tee-shirts and “The Boss” signs that gave it away, but I am not sure. They were trying to get onto the train with open containers (alcohol) the conductor was announcing on the loud speaker that open containers were not allowed on the train multiple times, because they had the “Who me?” look of bewilderment on their face. Some of them obviously did not want to part ways with their beverage because they decided to get off of the train and wither walk to the venue or wait for another train. Here is a thought; if you can afford a concert ticket that cost in excess of $100 you can afford another drink inside the venue. 

The Canadian, who was overly enthusiastic to announce the fact that he was from Toronto on the train, became a target of my pointing and laughing once we had gotten off of the train. The way he walked was comical, he was throwing his hips around the way a female runway model might… It even drew G to attempt to pull out her phone so she could video it. Unfortunately she was unsuccessful, that footage would have been great in this account of the evening. Some of the Springsteenconcert goers seemed to have channeled their inner New Jersey, because there were some strange creatures on the loose.

As we continued to walk towards the restaurant through the concert goers, a man who gave a very strong impression that he was a homosexual, really “appreciated” my shirt. He was pointing at me and nearly brushing his hand up against my saying how nice my shirt was. I guess gay men like assholes as much as the ladies do. I had a wrinkly, striped button down on… not exactly what I would think would draw a compliment. Does my aura give that vibe that I am an asshole? If that is the case, maybe gay men like assholes just as much as the ladies seem to.  

Once we had gotten to the restaurant, we had taken a seat on the outdoor, heated patio, because it was prime real estate for watching concert goers on the way to the arena. Shortly after sitting down, a drunkard was staggering down the street. He was staggering so badly that I predicted would fall at some point while crossing the street. I was disappointed when he managed to cross the street and step onto the curb without falling, but this was not his last appearance of the night. We will get into his reappearance later. Another personal favorite from the people watching was what looked like a mother and daughter combination. The mother was dressed like 80s hair band groupie, with her teased hair, black tank top, black skirt, tights and heels. That must have been her “go to” sexy look in the 80’s… I wonder if she gets jealous of the male attention her younger, more attractive daughter gets. On top of this, scalpers were approaching us to see it we wanted tickets. They were only looking to get $20 a ticket for seats in the lower level ten minutes after the show was scheduled to start… This tells me that anyone that pays $100 and up for concert tickets is an idiot.

Going forward, the waitress had dropped us off some menus and took our drink orders. I had already seen this establishments menu because a coworker had brought me a copy back to work after going there. The menu I received from the waitress looked nothing like the one I had seen, it turns out with the close proximity to the arena, and they have a condensed menu for nights when there are events being held at the arena. I noticed what I had wanted was not on this reduced menu, which I was disappointed with, but was fine ordering something else. The waitress comes back to take our order, and it turned out that my selection from the condensed menu was sold out. I go to my next option which was some form of Ruben sandwich made with pastrami. Strike two… They were also out of whatever bread that they used for this sandwich. I really was not interested in anything else that was on this menu, so I had asked the waitress if she could and she was able do the Ruben on a Pretzel roll which I remembered that they used on other things on their full menu. Problem solved. G thought was hitting on me throughout the night. I was trying to argue with her that she was angling for a larger tip. Whatever the case, that’s a discussion for another time.

After finishing dinner, it was time to head back to get the train back. As we were approaching the arena, we saw our drunkard friend, still stumbling and trying to cross another street. This time, he face planted trying to step up onto the curb… It was a glorious sight. I felt redeemed after my failed prediction of him falling from earlier. Upon reaching the arena, I see a bizarre looking bicycle… I was actually shocked that it did not have a Moped engine hooked up to it. This thing looked as if it was some distant cousin of Pee Wee Herman’s bicycle or an offspring of it that has a genetic mutation as you’ll see in the picture below.

Finally we get on the train for the completion of the round trip ticket. It was around 9:30 and all I was hoping for was a quite ride back. Well, we know with this type of evening that was not going to happen. At one of the stops that we had come to, three obese teenage girls who were either high, drunk or a combination of the two joined us on the train. Let me tell you that they were a real treat. You could barely tell that one of them was a female. Two of them started kissing each other and the sight of that was almost vomit inducing. Thankfully we exited the train before I actually reached the point of being physically sick.

You would think that me aggravation of the evening would have ended with my exiting the train. Nope! It was topped off by a group of three “Glee” wannabe, theater type that was exiting a train that had come from the opposite direction. The most annoying of the group was a guy who was clad in red pants, a white blazer and to quote American Psycho, “Oliver Peoples glasses.” This guy’s look was actually fitting in this situation because this was the type of Yuppie that Patrick Bateman would have buried an ax in, like Bateman did to Paul Allen in the book/movie. Paul Allen was played by Jared Leto in the movie, which I also cannot stand as some of you might know… It all comes full circle to conclude my night. 

Maybe I should have made the choice to stay in on this Friday evening. Should I have taken the lack of ideas of what to do or the obstacles that were facing the one idea that we did have as a sign to be lazy and stay on the couch? Who knows, at this point it is hind sight. Yes I may have been slightly aggravated at the train wrecks that had crossed our path on this Friday evening… But, look at the interesting story I am getting to share with you all because of it. I’ll take that trade off any day! Does anyone want to get together with me next Friday night?

Wait... How did I not mention that this all took place on a Friday the 13th? Now I get it!