Station on a summer Friday because the place is crawling with
meatheads, jackasses, guys who wear clam-diggers, chicks in flats,
guys with accents and other assorted trash all ready for a weekend of
pretentious debauchery. First of all, Penn Station might be the
hottest place in the entire city, air just doesn't move down.
Secondly there and I feel like the ceilings are collapsing on me, it's
like being stuck in an endless loop of Being John Malkovich. Thirdly
you have to deal with that idiotic Bingo Board to figure out which
track to go to, there are 14 different trains leaving in an hot span
which means there are practically 200,000 people on that big hall all
waiting to sprint to the tracks the second their train-track is
announced. Watching the frenzy is like being able to see the inner
workings of the brain of a guy with Tourette's
But the worst part are the people... Every a-hole standing there is
wearing aviator glasses, preppy shorts and a collard shirt. Why
anybody would actually do this willingly every-week is beyond me
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