No-Lube Tube

I find the time change utterly depressing. The sun sets at like 2:15 P.M. in New York and I can't tell you what a bummer it is to leave work and not get a little Vitamin D boost from the sun.

I was trudging to the subway this morning at 6 a.m. to go to the gym. The time-change depression was nearly unshakeable. I was even more crabby than usual because it was 6 a.m., I hadn't eaten, and all I had to look forward to was an hour of cardio and a pokey ride on the M14 bus.

The F train is screwed beyond all belief through the end of November, and there are signs all over our station alerting you that, in order to get to or from Manhattan between Friday and Sunday night, you will likely have to take some combination of every line in the friggin' city to do so. It's nearly driven me to madness already.

On one of the not-so-helpful MTA signs a rider had made a little drawing of a man's face saying "Not again!" Someone had written beside it: "Welcome to NYC transit, where we fuck you without Vaseline."

For some reason, it made me smile. We're all in this ass-fucking together, I guess.